All Fired Up (Green Valley Heroes #7)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

HUNTER

M y gaze tracks Madeline across the parking lot as she opens the door to a newer-model Camry and gets in. Fucking tryhard. She hasn’t changed at all since high school.

She’d answered all of Chief McClure’s questions he asked the group about fire safety, trying to be teacher’s pet once again. What, being valedictorian and going away to college on some fancy scholarship wasn’t enough for her? I’d assumed she’d gone on to work at NASA or something ridiculous, not come back here to Green Valley. Where’s she been hiding the last few years?

She has no business trying to be the best at fucking firefighting, too. Come on already. Why’s she even here? The girl’s so slight, she looks like she can barely lift a pencil.

Her car doesn’t leave the lot, so I assume she must be eating in her car like I am during our lunch break. Probably because no one wanted to sit with her inside. Because no one wants her here.

I don’t want her here.

The memory of her from all those years ago barrels into the forefront of my mind, her begging our economics teacher to pair her with anyone besides me for our end of term project. I push the thought away, along with the hot wash of shame that comes with it.

Is she going to pull the same shit here, too? Refuse to partner with me for those training exercises McClure was talking about? I’m not going through that again. What the girl needs is to be taken down a peg.

My gaze lands on the passenger side floorboard of my car and the bag filled with the fake roaches I’d pranked my brother with on April Fool’s Day. A smile spreads over my face as I set my sandwich down and retrieve the bag.

Chief McClure and Grizz set out all the turnout gear earlier that we’ll practice putting on after lunch, and they’d specifically placed hers at the end with the smallest sizes they had available. If a couple of these plastic bugs were to find their way into her boots...who would even know how they got there?

After scarfing down the rest of my sandwich, I casually make my way back inside, making a quick pit stop in the empty bay where our afternoon session will be, then to the small downstairs break room, where Harry is finishing up his lunch. I sink into the armchair over in the corner and pull out my phone, praying Harry doesn’t strike up a conversation. He can’t keep his mouth shut on a good day.

When our lunch break is over and we’re gathered in what the chief calls the apparatus bay, it takes everything in me to not look over at Madeline. Don’t want her suspecting anything.

“Our turnout gear is made with Nomex,” Chief McClure tells us, “which can withstand temperatures of up to sixteen hundred degrees. It can also only be cleaned by a special process, so don’t go sticking it in a regular washer or you might ruin it.”

Grizz takes the reins next. “You’ve got your coat and pants, your fire hood and helmet, your gloves, and your boots. The whole set weighs about forty-five pounds, and once you add on tools, lights, radios, et cetera, that extra weight goes up, so be prepared for that. Now I’m going to show you the correct way to put everything on, then you’ll practice.”

After his demonstration, we’re given the go-ahead to put ours on. I bide my time and savor the sweet sound of Madeline’s scream a few minutes later.

Everyone looks at her over in the corner of the bay where she’s run away, her light brown hair disheveled, her cheeks stained with a fierce blush. She points toward her boots. “There are roaches in there.”

Chief McClure frowns, probably ready to tear this bay apart to find where the offending insects are coming from, but I walk past him and give a put-upon sigh.

“Seriously?” I say to Madeline. “I’ll take care of it.”

I keep my grin to myself as I pick up the boots and walk out of the bay and around the side of the building to a grassy area. I empty the fake roaches into my palm and stick them in my pocket.

But when I turn around, I’m not alone. Whoa, how’d she sneak up on me like that without me hearing?

“What are you doing?” Madeline asks, suspicion in her voice.

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Did she see what I did?

“Did you put those bugs in your pocket?” she asks.

Well, shit. Still, I’m not fessing up.

Her gaze narrows, the deep brown of her eyes piercing me. “Were those fake? Did you plant them there?”

“What are you, Nancy Drew? Forget about it.”

I move past her, but she grabs at my forearm, her fingers soft and delicate. Not the hands of a potential firefighter.

I look down at her hand on my arm pointedly until she removes it in a hurry.

“Don’t mess with me,” she warns, and I nearly laugh.

“Or what?” I step closer, aware of the size difference between us. I’m not exactly looming over her, intimidating her with my size...But I’m also not not doing that.

She doesn’t answer, probably because she realizes she doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

“No one wants you on this team,” I tell her. “You realize that, right? No one wants a know-it-all whose only skill is to play teacher’s pet. That won’t help in a fire.”

Her nostrils flare. “You don’t know anything about me. And why are you here, anyway? On some kind of recon mission for the Iron Wraiths? You going to steal the fire engine for their chop shop?”

What does she know about that? “I’m not part of the Iron Wraiths,” I grit out.

“Right.” There’s clear disbelief in her tone. “Just the rest of your family is. But not you. That’d be ridiculous.”

I’m silent, unable to refute her words. They’re true. And also the exact reason I’m here.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says. “Why are you here?”

To be different from my family. To change how people see me. To maybe do something meaningful with my life for once.

Not that I’m telling her any of that.

“None of your business.”

I walk away, leaving her there, and return the boots inside, muttering, “All good now.”

When she joins us again, I half expect her to tattle on me, but she doesn’t. She only quietly puts on the rest of her gear, and I do the same.

McClure talks more about the turnout gear, but I can’t pay attention, waiting for Madeline to say something. To demand I empty my pockets. To ask for me to be kicked out of the program. Is she messing with me? Playing a trick of her own? Or is she really going to keep quiet?

No, I need to focus on what the chief is saying. It’s so much easier trying to remember things I hear than having to read about it later. How serious are these tests going to be that he mentioned earlier? Me and tests have never exactly got along. The letters always seem to move around on the page.

After we’re finished and remove our gear, we’re assigned lockers inside and given a tour of the building. I do my best to memorize the layout, especially if I’ll be here every weekend for the next couple of months. By the end, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic.

The only thing is, how long will it take before my family finds out I’m doing this? Word spreads fast in Green Valley, but at least they don’t have much contact with law-abiding citizens like the fire chief. He won’t be the one to tell them. Still, they’re going to find out eventually and I need to come up with a better reason for why I’m doing this, one that they’ll accept. One that’s not because I don’t want to be like them.

I linger inside the fire station after we’re dismissed for a bit, not wanting to run into Madeline in the parking lot. Not that I’m afraid of her or anything. I just don’t want her making some big scene by accusing me of anything in front of everyone. It was a harmless prank. She didn’t have to get her panties in a wad about it.

When I finally return to my car, there’s a note under the windshield wiper, and I pull it out, frowning.

Sorry about hitting your car. My bad!

Below it is an out of state number.

What the fuck? I parked in the corner specifically so no one would go near my car. And why was anyone else even over here? Who’s parking at the fire station?

The urge to flip out is strong, but I don’t. Two of the other guys are still chatting by their cars, plus Madeline is still over there.

Whatever. I don’t have time to worry about her right now. I need to figure out where this car hit me and what kind of damage we’re looking at.

I inspect every inch of my car, but can’t find anything. What am I missing? If the damage wasn’t obvious, why would someone even leave a note?

Pulling out my phone, I dial the number, but a recording picks up.

“Oh, hello there. If you’re hearing this message, you’ve made a woman feel unsafe and/or disrespected.”

There’s more, but my gaze is stuck on Madeline across the way, looking at me through her open window, a Cheshire cat grin on her face. Did she...

I crumple the note in my hand and she laughs, then gives me a little wave and drives off.

So she wants to play it like that?

Game on.