1
Ryland
“Who brought the pussy salad?”
Oz, one of the rookies, sniffed around the spread of food on the covered picnic table. He picked up the chief’s dish, his grubby paws peeling back the plastic wrap, and my stomach growled territorially.
My house. My food. Oz should know that by now, but he wasn’t one for respecting boundaries.
“Oh that’s Ryland’s!” My battalion chief, Benjamin Flynn, leaned back from flipping the burgers and hot dogs on the grill and pointed at me with the tongs. He smiled like he had got some secret I didn’t know about while wearing a snazzy hot pink “kiss the cook” apron. The big bow tied over his ass kept me from taking him too seriously. Usually I ribbed him about it, but I knew Big Ben was desperate to knock up his pretty wife, Lily. For all I knew, the apron was some kind of role-playing thing I didn’t need to know about.
“Bro–for real?” Oz snickered, picking up a frozen bean burger and smelling it.
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it.” It’s a good thing I sent Benjamin and Lily out with my credit card earlier to pick up the burgers and hot dogs. Otherwise, it would be kind of hard to feed the guys and girls at a BBQ when I’m a vegan.
“Those are for Ryland.” Benjamin smacked Oz in the back of the head.
“I hope there’s more than just Bs and Ds and some frou-frou salads.”
“There’s a drive-thru on your way to the firehouse, numbnuts.” I shifted my crutches to one hand and maneuvered around the picnic table to snatch the plastic bowl he’d been holding onto. There was no way I was going to let Oz eat more than one bite of the chief’s corn and tomato salad.
“I still don’t understand how you got injured running a marathon, but you’re invincible on the job.”
Shrugging, I placed the salad closer to where I planned to park my ass on the patio with a beer later. “Shit happens. I’m lucky I’m on crutches and don’t need surgery.” There was nothing worse for a runner than a debilitating leg cramp in the home stretch at mile twenty to take you down.
“Thank God for that, Ryland.” My chief clapped me on the back and discreetly moved the salad bowl back to the middle of the table. Damn, I’d have to watch out for that later. The chief refused to give up the recipe, so I had to hold summer BBQ’s like this to get some.
“I’ll be off the crutches in a week and doing rehab. Doc said I’ll be fine—full recovery.” No one was happier about that than me. Being a fireman was my career; I hadn’t sufficiently planned a good backup if this didn’t work out. I was second generation and proud of it. Dad had recently retired and taken my mom on her long-awaited second honeymoon to Hawaii. Someday I hoped to do the same with a pretty girl at my side.
“Hi, y’all.”
Speaking of pretty… I turned my head toward the voice, and my throat nearly closed at the sight of Summer Rose Feeny sneaking her way out onto the patio. She made my heart pound like a teenage track sprinter who didn’t know how to pace himself for the distance. A chorus of welcomes followed with her brother—my best friend—Ford joining us outside. Oz tossed him a beer and walked over to take a tray of something that looked suspiciously like cookies from Summer.
I couldn’t speak, but I could certainly stop Oz from moving in on my girl… and my food. I pushed one of my crutches out, catching Oz on the ankle as he brushed passed me.
“Shit!” Oz stumbled forward, and luckily Ford grabbed him before the cookies were sacrificed.
Elbowing my way through, I stood in front of Summer, resting my arms casually over my crutches. My knee didn’t hurt all that bad. The crutches were mostly for precaution, but I didn’t need everyone else knowing that, especially with Summer looking concerned and nibbling her bottom lip. My work clearance would come next week. Today I was being an opportunist.
“Hey, Summer.” I looked up into her clear grey eyes and watched pink infuse her cheeks.
“Hi, Ryland. I, um, I brought cookies. Chocolate chip.” She held the plate out cautiously in her capable hands, but my smile must have faltered because she frowned. I didn’t eat regular cookies, hadn’t had one in years.
“Cookies!” Oz had recovered and was now interrupting my moment with Summer.
“They’re vegan—carob chips. I found a great recipe online.” Summer shrugged her shoulders shyly, and I would have kissed her senseless if most of the department wasn’t there watching us.