All Fired Up (Green Valley Heroes #7)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

MADELINE

H unter gives me a head nod, sipping coffee at one of the tables as I enter the break room area of the fire station. I smile back, more relaxed in his presence. For the first time, I’m not worried about what kind of prank he’ll pull on me.

We’d met three nights this week at the library, each time a little easier, a little less awkward. The last time he’d even let me quiz him for a few minutes, and I picked easy questions to boost his confidence. It’s strange how insecure he is when it comes to studying, considering how confident he is with everything else.

Then again, I suspect there’s something he’s not telling me. Or maybe even something he’s not fully aware of himself. I need more time observing him and doing some research before I bring it up, though. Also, I don’t want to push him away right as he finally seems receptive to studying for the written exam seriously. His success is my success, too.

I still can’t believe Chief McClure made that stipulation. He must be a secret evil genius.

Pausing in front of my locker, I joke to Hunter, “I’m not going to open this and silly snakes will pop out, right?”

Knowing him, it’d probably be more like a bunch of dildos, though.

He grins. “There’s only one way to find out.”

See, this is great. We’re being friendly with one another. This is all going to work out.

Heavy footfalls sound down the hall and stop in the entrance to the break room. “I don’t want any funny business today,” Chief McClure says, his gaze switching between us.

Hunter’s smile drops as he straightens in his chair. “Yes, sir.”

There’s no trace of sarcasm in his voice, only deference. He’s humbled himself a lot over the last week, being polite and respectful for the entirety of our Wednesday and Friday studying sessions. It seemed too good to be true, to be honest. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Well, even if his family are Iron Wraiths, I guess his momma instilled some kind of manners in him.

For the morning session, the department’s EMT, Sebastian, gives us a demonstration of the kind of work he does when called to a scene, and after lunch is our hands-on practical. Related tangentially to what our chapters in the textbook covered, Chief McClure first shows us how to hook a nozzle up to a hydrant and gives us each a turn to practice, then it’s time for a timed practical. The hose drag is one of the things on the Candidate Physical Ability Test, or CPAT as actual firefighters call it. It’s the first time we’re practicing an event that will be directly on the final. Even the ladder extensions we practiced the other week weren’t an exact replica of what we’ll be tested on.

Chief McClure demonstrates running forward seventy-five feet with the hose draped over his shoulder, then turns around a large drum and runs another twenty-five feet to a marked-off area on the ground. He drops to one knee, then pulls the hose hand over hand toward himself until fifty feet of the hose has crossed the threshold.

Silas is up first, and Chief McClure stops him before he can go, putting a forty-pound weighted vest on him designed to simulate the additional weight of the gear we’ll be wearing. Rodney’s next, then Hunter. It’s not until it’s Harry’s turn that I start to worry. Harry is probably the closest to me in terms of physical fitness, or lack thereof. Not that he’s out of shape, but he’s not as young and spry as the rest of the guys on the training team.

He does fine running to the spot, but struggles toward the end of the hose pull, his arms shaking as he finishes.

If his arms shake . . . what will it be like for me?

I’m up next, and as Chief McClure straps the weighted vest on me, I nearly slump down at the oppressiveness. At least it’s not as hot as the full gear.

The hose is heavier than I expected, but I don’t let it show on my face as I hold the nozzle tight to my chest and run forward, then around the drum that marks our turning point. Dropping into position at the designated spot, I pull at the hose, but not nearly as much comes forward as when Hunter pulled it. Not that I’m comparing myself to him. I can’t do that. I’m bound to come up short.

I try again, hand over hand, pulling, but it’s like pulling a mountain toward me. It’s two hundred feet of hose, I remind myself. Of course it’s going to be heavy. And it has to go around the curve of the drum, adding extra resistance. And this damn weighted vest is so freaking heavy...No, I can do this. I might not be as fast as everyone else, but I can do it. I only need to get fifty feet of the hose across.

I have to stop and shake my arms out at one point as the feeling goes out of them, but I grit my teeth and persevere, earning a head nod from Chief McClure as I take the vest off with numb fingers and hand it to him. Some of the guys give me commiserating looks as I pass them, and Harry even pats my shoulder.

My heart sinks. That was a pity pat. From the second-worst person on the team.

I join Hunter at the back of the group, who looks at me with a grave expression.

“Was it that bad?” I whisper, unable to help myself.

He sighs. “Well, it wasn’t good.”

Really? “I finished, though.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

That doesn’t sound promising.

We run through the exercise again, and this time is even harder since my shoulders and upper arms are sore. By sheer force of will, I finish, and vow to myself that I’ll become strong enough to do this by the final without my arms shaking. This is a ten-week course, with the written exam and CPAT on the eleventh week. We’re already on week four, which means I have about a month and a half to get in shape. That’s doable, right? Maybe? Hopefully?

When we’re dismissed for the day, Hunter pulls me to the side, probably to chew me out for taking twice as long to finish as him.

Yes, I’d counted.

“You know what I’m going to say.”

I cross my arms and stare at my sneakers. “Yeah, I know.”

“So we need to get you on a strength training program. Probably something aerobic, too.”

“I told you, I’ve got it covered.”

I’ll step up my workouts from twice a week to four times. And add some weights, I guess. I’m not really sure how that works but I’m sure there are a ton of tutorials online.

“Then I need to know what you’re doing,” he replies. “Remember, this affects me, too.”

I open my mouth to argue, then pause. If he kept insisting he could handle studying on his own when all evidence suggested otherwise, I’d be livid.

“I’m not trying to put you down, but you weren’t up to the level of everyone else today,” he says, his tone softer than I thought it could be. He almost sounds like he...cares.

“I don’t need a reminder,” I mutter, annoyed with him for stating the obvious. And because I almost wish he was surly about this. Defensive Hunter I can deal with. Compassionate Hunter...No, thank you.

“You need to get in shape.”

My lips purse with irritation. Again, he’s stating the obvious.

“I’m not calling you fat,” he amends. “You’re not fat.”

His gaze rakes over me, not lasciviously, more like he’s assessing me. But there’s also something in his eyes, like he’s...aware of me. Or maybe it’s me that’s aware of him.

Oh my God, I’m mental. What is wrong with me?

I look back down at my shoes so he can’t see how ridiculous my brain is being.

“Shit, I’m messing this up,” he mumbles. “I just...I want to help you. To return the favor.” He blows out a breath. “When the chief was going over that fire hydrant stuff earlier, I actually understood what he was talking about because we had gone over it at the library. So...yeah. I guess what I’m saying is...thanks.”

I glance up at him, but he’s looking away, an uncomfortable expression on his face. Like it was painful for him to admit that.

Fine. I should give him something.

“I’m doing a workout video at home twice a week.”

He blinks and looks back at me. “What is it?”

“That’s not important.”

“Madeline . . .”

There’s a jump in my belly at the way he growls my name. No, no. Wrong thing to focus on.

I mumble something unintelligible, hoping he leaves it alone, but of course he doesn’t, asking me to repeat myself.

I throw my hands up. What do I have to lose at this point? “It’s ‘Buns of Steel.’”

His brows knit together, but before he can say anything, I shove a finger in his face to cut him off. “Don’t go dismissing it before you try it. It’s challenging.”

At least for me. He’s probably already got buns of steel.

Not that I was watching him run today.

He considers me for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”

That’s all? “Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll do the ‘Buns of Steel’ video with you.”

I tug at my ear, sure I didn’t hear him right. “That wasn’t an invitation.”

“Well, I’m making it one.”

Now this is the Hunter I’m more familiar with. Barging his way into whatever he wants without a care for anyone else.

“You’re not doing the video with me.”

“I am.”

Oh, wait. Duh. I’m so stupid. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” I laugh, but stop fairly quickly when I realize he’s not laughing or grinning or giving his signature Hunter smirk. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m sore from today.”

“At the rate you should be training, you should be working out every day. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Shame washes over me for a second before I push it away. “Hey, I’ve been trying. It’s not my fault I’m not naturally as strong as the rest of you.”

“Then you need to train that much harder.”

Damn it. He’s right. Wasn’t I so resolved to get better after the practical earlier?

“Fine. We’ll go to my house.”

I give him my address and stalk inside to grab my purse, muttering under my breath the whole time about how insane this is. Is he really going to do the workout with me? Or just make fun of it the whole time? I’m the first to admit it’s pure eighties cheesiness. But when I’d found the VHS tape and a somehow still-working VCR player in a box of junk in the attic the other week, it had seemed serendipitous.

Hunter pulls in behind me in the driveway, and I curse myself for not calling Mom on the ride home to prepare her.

I stick my key in the front door lock, then pause and turn to face him. “Don’t get caught up in conversation with my mom,” I warn him. “She’ll talk your ear off all night.”

“You live with your mom?”

Glaring at him, a mixture of something like embarrassment and resentment bubbles in my stomach. It’s not what he thinks, though. I’m helping her out by living here, not the other way around.

I’m not getting into all that with him right now on the porch, though.

Especially within earshot of Mom.

“Yeah, so?”

He doesn’t take the bait I’m dangling in front of him for a fight, though. He just gives me a nonplussed look. “Don’t talk to your mom. Got it.”

“I’m not saying don’t talk to her. But don’t let her monopolize your time.”

“How about you put a paper bag over my head so she doesn’t even see me?”

I ignore his sarcasm and open the door.

Mom looks up from her spot on the couch and tilts her head in confusion. “Hi, honey. Who’s this?”

I’m antsy, wanting to go to my room already. “This is Hunter. He’s training with me at the firefighting program.”

She rises and joins us in the front entryway. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Madeline never brings anyone over. Can I get you anything to drink? To eat?”

“No, thank you, ma’am.”

Ugh, he actually sounds polite. How come he couldn’t have acted like that from the beginning?

“I’m sorry,” Mom says, “but I can’t place you. Do I know your folks? Did you go to school with Madeline?”

“We’re kind of on a tight schedule,” I interrupt, knowing we’ll be here all night otherwise. “We’ll be in my room. Please don’t bother us.”

I tug at Hunter’s arm, pausing at his amused look. Oh, shit. That probably sounded bad, didn’t it?

“Not that we’re doing anything weird,” I amend. Now that sounded suspicious. “We’re training together.”

Mom smiles warmly. “Okay, honey. I understand.”

I get out of there before I can stick my foot in my mouth any more and guide him to my room, restlessness coursing through me as I shut the door behind us. With him in here, the area seems smaller, like he’s sucking up all the square footage with his big frame. He looks around, studying my room, and I bite at my bottom lip, viewing it through his eyes.

Plain white walls. A purple comforter on the full-sized bed. The same basic white furniture I’ve had since my childhood. I’ve never had a reason to update it. It’s still functional. But looking at it now, it seems so...childish.

No one ever comes in here, though. And definitely not a guy. It’s only me and Mom in the house. Even when I was dating my ex, he never visited here over school breaks with me in college.

I clear my throat, getting Hunter’s attention. “Should we get started?”

We’re still both in athletic gear from the training, so there’s no reason to delay the inevitable. The sooner we’re finished, the sooner he stops judging my room.

“Do we need to warm up first?” he asks. “Or do we get straight to steeling our buns?”

“There’s a warm-up in the video,” I mumble, turning on the ancient VCR.

“Wow, super eighties.” He nods toward the grainy image on the screen. “Sorry I left my leg warmers at home.”

I pause the video. “I’m not doing this if you’re going to make fun of it the whole time.”

He holds his hands up and away from himself. “Sorry. I’m on my best behavior now.”

I mumble under my breath about what I think of his behavior, but don’t unpause it yet. “Are we actually doing this?”

“If it gets you to pass the fitness test, then yeah.”

“I can do it myself. You don’t have to be here.”

He moves closer, but I don’t retreat the way my instincts scream for me to.

“You scared?” he murmurs in a low voice, that stupid grin on his face.

Ugh. I thought we were past this. “No.” I jam my thumb on the play button, then realize he reverse-psychologized me. Damn it.

The way the TV is positioned means we can’t exercise side by side, so I slip behind him as the warm-up starts, but he quickly switches positions.

“Uh-uh,” he says, shaking his head. “The whole point of this is so I can see what kind of workout you’re doing.”

I’m conscious of him behind me as the warm-up takes us through squats, my neck prickling with awareness. I can’t believe I agreed to this. What choice do I have, though? It’s obvious I’m in desperate need of training. The hose pull is supposed to be one of the easier tests, and I clearly sucked at it.

I glance behind me, expecting to see Hunter squatting, too, but instead, he’s staring at my ass.

“What the hell?” I blurt out. “You’re supposed to be exercising, not ogling me.”

His gaze flicks up to meet mine, and he seems flustered for a moment before he composes himself. “I’m studying your form.”

Embarrassment washes over me. Duh. That was the whole point of this.

“Right. Sorry.”

How freaking stupid of me. Of course he wasn’t staring at my ass. Even if things are...friendlier between us the past week. He’s not interested in me like that.

My mind conjures up that moment last Saturday when he’d cornered me at the fire station and stared at my mouth. No, stop thinking about that. Besides, I wouldn’t even want him to be interested.

I blow out a breath of annoyance. Who am I trying to convince here? Myself?

At least he can’t see the redness in my cheeks from this angle. I need to get these stupid thoughts under control.

Before I make a complete idiot of myself.