Page 92 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
His shoulders rise and fall as he stares at his gear in indecision.
“Hey, guys?” I ask as I walk over to them. “What would you say if I told you I wanted my own private show here?”
Bowie’s eyebrows arch, and he nods to let me know he gets what I’m saying and will play along with my ruse. “You know this is a PG calendar, right, McCoy?” He chuckles and lifts his chin to the guys in an unspoken directive. If Grady has been keeping us sleeping together on the down-low, I just screwed that up for him.
“I’ll take my chances, but you never know what might come over me when Malone puts on those turnouts. They’ve been known to make female hormones get a little hot and bothered.”
“I think that’s our cue to vacate the premises,” Dixon says. “Are you going to be okay with her here, Malone? I mean, do you need backup in case she can’t control herself and jumps you on the spot?”
“I assure you, this is one fire I know how to put out.” Grady chuckles and picks up his gear to head to the changing room.
The guys gather their stuff and begin to file out of the studio. Bowie hangs back, waiting for the guys to clear before turning to me. “Thanks for coming. I was worried how he was going to do with this . . . but I know he’ll be fine now that you’re here.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he just shakes his head as if to tell me nothing more needs to be said before patting my shoulder and walking out.
“Marcy Holden.” I look over to where the photographer has her hand outstretched and curiosity etched in the lines of her face.
“Dylan McCoy. Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand.
“Is there something no one’s telling me here?” she asks in a hushed tone.
I wage a mental war between giving away private information on Grady and then realize this is a small town. If Marcy is shooting photos for the calendar to benefit the widows’ fund, she knows what happened. And if she knows what happened, I can draw the conclusion that she’s aware another firefighter was injured, so I give enough information not to feel like I am betraying and emasculating Grady. “He’s the one who was injured in the fire.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen and the sound comes out in a gasp of shock. “How did I not put two and two together? That’s what I get for being new in town. I’m sorry. Is there something I’m not supposed to do or—?”
“Where do you want me?”
I’m not sure how long Grady has been standing there, but we both turn to face him at the same time, worried he overheard us. I stare at him, my mouth waters, and the murmured hum of approval Marcy emits beneath her breath is equivalent to the sucker punch of lust that hits me when I see him in his turnouts.
His everyday service uniform is hot. His Class A’s are sexy. But this, his yellow turnouts with reflective tape, red suspenders, and no shirt on underneath are everything and then some.
Perfection with a little bit of grit thrown in.
Any woman who says a firefighter in his gear isn’t sexy is lying because damn . . . that’s the only word I can form.
Grady’s standing before us with his red suspenders on one shoulder, the other hooked but hanging down. The turnout pants hang low on his hips so every perfect ab is on display.
It takes me a second to snap out of the lust clouding my thoughts and realize we are both ogling him in a way that will either help his insecurities or exacerbate them.
“Right. Yes. How do I want you?” Marcy asks with a shake of her head as she walks toward him, recovered and suddenly all business. She places a hand on his shoulder to direct him. It’s an innocent touch, but I see Grady steel himself for it and walk sideways to keep his back away from her line of vision. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“No.” His voice is stunted and eyes flick to mine.
“Okay, so I’m thinking . . .” She steps back and angles her head to the side as she stares at him before walking over and grabbing a yellow turnout coat and then holding it out to him. “I’m thinking you hold this over your shoulder. We’ll start there. Your definition is going to play well with this lighting.”
“Sure. Yeah.” Grady moves toward where she directs him in front of the backdrop. His body is stiff, his smile forced. The fluidity to his movements, which is usually so natural, is all but gone.
Over the next thirty minutes, Marcy photographs him while I sit silently in the corner. She struggles to get a photo that reflects the man we see the minute the camera is off him and his body is not being stared at.
Will this ever change for him? Will he ever grow comfortable in this new skin he’s been given and this new chance at life?”
“Okay, shake your shoulders out, Grady. You’re looking stiff.”
Grady shoots her a look with a kind smile, but I see so much behind those eyes. I wish I could do anything to take his discord away. To take his insecurity away. To show him how gorgeous he is, even with his scars.
“I had Brody in here earlier,” Marcy says quietly. “He’s the sweetest little boy. He talked a lot about you, you know? I didn’t put two and two together until you went to get changed.”
Grady’s shoulders fall some, but his head lifts. A genuine smile slides softly onto his lips despite the sadness in his eyes. “He’s a good kid.”
