Oh hey, Cap. Guess what? Your daughter, Dr. Lauren, did my yearly physical in September. Even fondled my balls in the name of my health. Truthfully, I’ve been jacking off to thoughts of her every time I’ve taken a shower since. So, thanks for inviting me to Thanksgiving.
Instead, I stick out my hand and take Lauren’s, shaking it like we’ve never met. “Nice to meet you, Lauren.”
Her forehead crinkles. I’m not sure if she can tell I’m putting on a front, or if she genuinely thinks I don’t remember her at all—but she takes my hand and returns the sentiment.
“You too. Garrett, was it?”
Hell, maybe she doesn’t remember me. I can’t believe I’ve yet to consider that a possibility. She probably sees dozens of patients a day, and it’s been over two months since my appointment. Maybe I don’t even stand out at all. I mean, I would understand. Obviously. But it’d also result in a serious credibility hit to the fantasy roll I’ve been using in the name of working out my sexual frustration.
Believability isn’t really high up on the porn totem pole, I know, but for reality-based daydreams, I generally prefer it.
“Uh, yeah,” I respond, clearing the confusion out of my throat. “Garrett. That is, in fact, my name.”
I sound like a fucking moron.
Cap looks over his shoulder at me, his eyebrows drawn and concern in his eyes. It’s not like me to stutter. At all. For all he knows, I’m having a stroke.
And quite frankly, I’d probably be willing to take his belief all the way to the hospital if it kept him from knowing what’s really going on in my mind.
Really, truly dirty, inappropriate thoughts about his youngest daughter and the things I’d like to do with her given thirty minutes and an empty room of any kind.
It’s insane. I know. But there is just something about this gorgeous woman that sends my brain fucking reeling.
Lauren’s eyes narrow on my face, and strangely, despite the very intimate things I know I’m thinking about her, it brings a certain sense of calm over my anxiety like a drape. She knows me.
She knows exactly who I am, even after the two months of time that have passed. And I think she knows there was something between us in that exam room. Some special chemistry that bore remembering—something that’s made me think about her over and over again.
Something that made her go along with not telling her father that we’ve met before, even though it was a stupid knee-jerk reaction that I did it in the first place. The two of us have nothing to hide, but now it’s too late to turn back.
“What the hell’s the matter with you, Alexander?” Cap booms, startling both Lauren and me out of the weird trance seeing each other again put us into.
I chuckle a little. “I’m not sure, sir. But I think it might be how beautiful your daughter is.”
Cap laughs, and Lauren’s eyes widen as I smile.
It’s funny because it’s the truth. I said exactly what I was feeling, but I know my relationship with the Cap, and I knew he’d take what I said with enough innocence that I wouldn’t have to smooth anything over.
Though, deep down, there is nothing innocent about my words.
“Hands off, Alexander. Because, for as beautiful as my Laurie is, she’s twice as smart. And she sure as shit knows to stay away from a guy like you.”
I laugh.
Shit-talk is the love language of the firehouse. So, it might seem like I need to be offended, but I know better. If Cap really didn’t respect me, he wouldn’t bother going to the trouble of insulting me.
“Fair enough, sir.” I smirk. “I’ll count my lucky stars she’s letting me occupy the same room.”
Lauren’s eyes bug out again, and the Cap laughs.
“Damn straight.”
I really don’t know what it is about her that makes me act like this—bold, flirtatious, bordering on pushy. The last time I dated, I was eighteen, and even then, I wasn’t like this.
It’s like someone sticks a couple defibrillator paddles to my chest every time I’m in the same room with her.
“Come on, Alexander. Let’s get a seat at the table.” He turns me toward the dining room and glances back over his shoulder at his daughter to ask, “We about ready, Laurie?”
I’m not sure I like the idea of heading for the table and taking a seat while Lauren serves us like some sort of peasant maiden, but I’m equally sure I’ve shown enough interest in her for the time being. I’d prefer not to get shoved off the roof of our next fire by the Cap.
“It’s ready,” she responds, her voice devoid of irritation. “I’m just pulling the rolls out of the oven.”
“Great, baby,” Cap says. “If you need any help carrying stuff, let me know. I’ll send the shitheads in.”