Part 9 (1/2)

The Captain was standing in front of Engine number two, the one I drove when the tones dropped. His face was nearly purple with anger.

”Captain?” I asked as I came close enough that I didn't have to yell.

”This is completely unacceptable. I've told you numerous times that this is not a place to jack around. You're getting written up for this!” The Captain snarled, pointing towards something on the front of the engine.

I walked around, and my temper finally got the better of me. ”The kids of the first grade elementary cla.s.ses made that. What did you want me to do, throw it away?”

The Captain was taken aback by the vehemence in my voice.

The thing that was so 'unacceptable' was a thank you poster from the children of the local elementary school for teaching them fire safety. Which had saved a little boy's life in the apartment fire I'd worked the night I'd left dinner early with my friends, around a month ago.

”That's not protocol. You cannot have that on the truck. Seconds count when it comes to getting to the scene of a fire or a call. We don't have time to take this s.h.i.+t off the window.” The Captain tried to save face.

What he was doing was making himself look like a complete a.s.s. Wanting to show him how stupid he sounded, I walked over to the front of the engine where the Thank you poster hung from the Engine's front. It was held in place in between the gla.s.s of the winds.h.i.+eld and the winds.h.i.+eld wiper.

With a small tug, the poster came free, and I held it up for the Captain's inspection. ”I have to come this way to drive the engine, Captain.”

The Captain had nothing to say to that, especially in front of the entire fire department, as well as some police officers that were stationed right next door.

I wasn't feeling vindicated though. All I had to do was make it two more weeks, and I'd bring this incident up with the head of the Fire Department. This wasn't going to fly anymore. I'd been dealing with the Captain's s.h.i.+t for entirely way too long. It was either going to be me, or the Captain.

By eight thirty, I was on my way to Baylee's, and extremely happy to be away from that place. Sometimes the firehouse reminded me of a soap opera set, and I was glad that I could get some time to myself to ride and clear my head before it was time to meet Baylee for dinner.

When I pulled into her driveway thirty minutes later, I walked up to the front porch and rang her doorbell. When no one came to the door, I started to pull out my phone, but I decided to check in the backyard since she'd said she was going to get some work done in her garden.

With one glance over the fence, I saw her, a.s.s in the air, as she picked what looked like weeds out of the middle of her garden.

Giving a low whistle with my teeth to warn her, I unfastened the latch on the gate and stepped inside.

”Sebastian!” She exclaimed when she saw me entering through the gate.

I returned her smile and walked up until my elbows were leaning against the gate that surrounded the garden and surveyed the spread. ”This has really begun to grow. They were tiny little plants when I was here last.”

Her smile widened. ”I've always had a garden. This one isn't half bad. Next year I think I'll extend it to run the length of the yard. I'll just have to figure out a system that allows the pool water to drain when I need to, but keep it away from the plants. Chlorine will kill it.”

I nodded. Watching her work instead of talking.

Today she was wearing blue jean shorts that looked like they used to be jeans, a black t-s.h.i.+rt that said Bulldog Pride on it, and a pair of tennis shoes that looked like they'd been worn for years. Her legs looked magnificent. And I wanted them wrapped around my waist, or over her head, in the worst way.

”Are you ready to go?” I asked her, looking pointedly at the dirt staining her hands and arms.

She snickered, but got up, washed her hands with the water hose and a bottle of soap that was sitting beside the hose. Once done, she gestured, and I followed her inside.

She kicked off her dirty tennis shoes just inside the door, disappeared down the hallway, and came back shortly after in jeans and a pair of cowboy boots. His smile widened when I finally read the s.h.i.+rt she was wearing. 'Sorry, I only ride boys with tattoos.'

”Nice s.h.i.+rt, Baylee.” I chuckled.

She smiled wide and tossed a plastic bag towards me. ”I got you a s.h.i.+rt, too.”

I opened the black bag, dropped it out on the couch once I grasped the t-s.h.i.+rt, and held it up for inspection. ”If you can read this, the b.i.t.c.h fell off.” I read aloud. ”I've always wanted one of these.”

I laid the t-s.h.i.+rt over the couch, lifted the cap off my head, grasped the collar of the s.h.i.+rt at the back of my neck, and pulled it over my head. Baylee's inhalation had me glancing at her face, and she watched rapturously as I inadvertently flexed, and then shrugged back into the s.h.i.+rt she bought me.

”How's it look?” I asked as I re-settled my hat back in place.

She looked at me for a few moments and nodded in appreciation. ”Hot.”

”Where do you want to go eat?” I asked as we both walked towards the front door.

Once out on the front porch, Baylee locked the door with her key, and turned to face the driveway warily.

”This scares me s.h.i.+tless.” She said eyeing the bike.

I knew it scared her. ”We don't have to take it. It's completely up to you.”

”I know we don't. But I want to.” She breathed as she walked slowly toward my bike.

Motorcycles weren't for everyone. It would be hard not to share one of the biggest parts of myself with Baylee, but I also wouldn't push her. It was entirely up to her if she got on my bike or not.

”Let's do it.” She said before swinging her leg over the side of my Harley.

She looked over her shoulder at me, and my breath hitched at the beauty.

Her mid back length hair was in soft curls, haloing her face. The small of her back was showing, and I could just make out the tiniest bit of pink where her jeans gaped slightly on her back. She wasn't wearing any makeup, which I liked, and her mouth was curved in to a knowing smile as she saw the direction of my stare.

”I want to eat at Hooters.” She announced.

”Really?” I asked, as I took the black helmet with the pink skull on the side into my hands. I'd picked it up at The Harley Shop on my way home yesterday evening, knowing when I'd seen it that it would be perfect for her. I'd also gotten her a leather jacket, just in case.

”Here. Let's get this on.” I instructed as I placed the helmet on her head.

”Where's yours?” She asked as she fastened the strap underneath her chin.

”I don't wear one.” I said as I reached into my saddle bag and produced the leather jacket.

She squealed in delight, and I helped her into it as well. Then she sobered when she remembered what I'd just said.

”Why don't you wear a helmet?” She asked with great concern.

”I just don't. Never have. I don't like the way it feels.” I told her as I swung my leg over the bike and settled in front of her.

”You really won't like the way it feels when you have your head smashed open or your brain swelling because you didn't wear your helmet.” She snapped, making me realize that she didn't like the fact that I didn't wear a helmet.

”You're worried about me?” I asked as I stuck the key into the ignition.

I waited for her answer as I reached behind me to the back of Baylee's thighs and pulled her in snug to my back. Once in the desired position, I took both of her reluctant arms and wrapped them around my torso tight.

”Yes, I don't want you hurt. I really wish you'd wear a helmet.” She pleaded.

I hated helmets, but if it made her happy, I'd go get one as soon as I could. ”I will as soon as I see a place to get one.” I conceded.