Flirting With Danger Read Online Free PDF Page B

Sunday to clear his head, she’d still been the first image
     he saw when he’d woken this morning. And Jasmine had been the name on his lips, not
     Mac.
    They’d barely finished the regular equipment cleaning and functional checks before
     the station alarm sounded. Pump One, the truck to which both he and Jasmine had been
     assigned for this shift rotation, was the one responding to the emergency. He raced
     to put on his turnout gear but was the last to reach the truck. As Dave was rostered
     to drive, he climbed into the rear of the cab, beside Jasmine.
    She glared at him.
    Right. He got the message. They needed to talk, but this was not the time, especially
     with Dave looking in his rearview mirror at them. He gave her a nod and took his seat.
    “All right, guys?”
    He nodded. “All right, Dave. Let’s go.”
    He didn’t miss the fact that Dave’s eyes had narrowed, nor that it took him a fraction
     longer than necessary to withdraw his gaze and start the truck. That was all he needed,
     for Dave and the others to get wind of the fact that something had happened between
     him and Jasmine. He went cold just thinking about it.
    The thing was, he didn’t do serious relationships. He certainly didn’t do commitment,
     and his workmates were all well aware of that fact. They were a team; they were supposed
     to watch out for one another’s safety, and they wouldn’t want him anywhere near Jasmine
     in anything other than a work capacity. They’d be justified too—he’d feel the same
     way if there were someone else in his position—and he also knew that if he did anything
     to hurt her, he would lose their respect. That was the very last thing he wanted.
    His friend Joe had taught him that if you didn’t have the respect of your fellow firefighters,
     you had nothing. Respect for one another was vital to the successful operation of
     a firefighting crew, crucial to the confidence they needed in everyone’s abilities.
    The crew was like a family. And after years of being alone, he’d liked the sound of
     what Joe described and wanted to be part of it. He’d yearned to have the security
     of a family without the emotional investment that came with a biological connection.
     He’d believed that in the fire service he’d found the safe place that a family should
     be, without the risk of having his heart ripped out.
    Then Joe’s death on the job had torn him apart. He’d put Joe on the pedestal his father
     had vacated, and losing his friendship had taught Aaron that biology wasn’t the key
     to heartbreak; it was love.
    He’d loved his father. They’d been a normal, happy family. Then, one day, his father
     had decided he couldn’t tolerate domesticity any longer and had taken off. For good.
    He’d loved his mother, but she, unable to cope with the loss of her husband, had withdrawn
     from him. Withdrawn physically, because she’d shut herself away with a bottle, and
     withdrawn emotionally, because she’d had no more love to give him. By the time she’d
     died, he’d effectively lost her anyway. There’d been nothing left of the mother he
     remembered from his childhood.
    Losing Joe had been his third strike, and he’d finally learned that the only way to
     avoid the unimaginable pain of losing someone he loved was to avoid putting himself
     in a vulnerable position in the first place. It was obvious, really. So now, he didn’t
     give anyone the opportunity to leave him. He was always the one to do the leaving.
    “Aaron? Are you with us?”
    “Sorry, John. Yes, I’m listening.” Damn, he couldn’t allow his rambling thoughts to
     interfere with his job. He had to put everything other than work out of his mind or
     he would be a danger to himself and others. “What have we got?”
    “Accident on a construction site,” John, the crew leader, responded. “Worker stuck
     between studs on the sixth floor of a building. No lift operating as of yet. Sounds
     like we’ll need to put the