Big Daddy Firemen (Big Cedar Daddies Book 2)

Back in the town of Big Cedar, Daisy McMillan paced nervously back and forth before her large desk and the bank of computer monitors that sat atop it. Their bright screens illuminated the immediate space before them, causing Daisy’s shadow to follow along on the wall behind her, keeping pace with her constant movement.

She still had her dispatcher’s headset on, one ear covered, the other exposed, and the attached mic in front of her lips. After five long minutes of pacing, Daisy stopped long enough to wipe the wetness from her cheeks as she sniffled. She hadn’t even realized she was crying, and felt foolish for doing so. As an emergency dispatcher, after all, she’d fielded hundreds of calls in the line of duty. Granted, in the small, rural community nestled in the forested mountains of Southeastern Oklahoma, the calls were generally not too traumatic.

A lot of them involved stranded tourists. Many involved alcohol. Almost all of them had happy endings. Every now and then they didn’t, and those were always tough. Tough, but thankfully rare.

Right now, though, the emotions she felt weren’t from an unhappy ending. They were from worrying about one.

Would Cane, Austin, and Walker be alright?

They’d been in tough situations before. They’d been nicked and bruised, but any injuries sustained had always been minor. Even when battling the fiercest forest fires, they’d come out relatively unscathed, all things considered.

Yet each time Daisy worried.

And the worry forced her to confront her feelings for the three.

It was ridiculous, she thought. I can’t be in love with all three of them. It’s just a silly crush. Or, rather, silly crushes.

She sighed and left the office, walking into the main portion of the firehouse. It felt so lonely and lifeless without the three firemen who lived there.

And lived was the correct term.

The guys didn’t have another home. It was fine, they’d explained, because the community of Big Cedar needed firemen who could be ready at all times. With so much forest around them, it was paramount that someone remained vigilant, just in case a fire started.

When they went out, they even kept their personal phones patched through to the network. They remained constantly at the ready. If they needed time off, they had a backup crew of volunteers who monitored things while they were away. Or the department in the nearest town kept an eye on things.

Other than those times, though, they were always around. Without them, the firehouse just seemed boring.

The scent of coffee still filled the air. As she walked through the large, open room, past the sitting area and the TV and into the kitchen portion, she saw that there were three half-full mugs atop the counter, though they’d long grown cold.

She grabbed a clean mug of her own, a coffee pod, and put them in place to brew a cup. As she waited, her mind drifted back to earlier that morning.

Her worried frown was replaced with a smile. The guys had looked so freaking hot working out! That was one of her favorite parts of the workday. Five days a week she got the yummiest of views: the three firefighters with their shirts off, sweat glistening on their knotty, jagged muscles. Even as big and veiny as their arms were—and as protruding as their chests and shoulders were—her favorite part was actually those triceps. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to experience one—or all of them one at a time—on top of her, those triceps bulging as they held themselves up. She’d love to run her fingers over them as one of the guys kissed a trail up her neck and to her hungry lips.

Mmm.

Yeah, she really liked that view she had. It was one of the benefits of the job, even better than the insurance and paid time off. The hardest part about it was not closing the door of her office and finger-banging herself into oblivion.

She kept it professional, though.

Now, there were times when she went home and finger-banged herself after the workday was over, but a girl could only hold out so long.

Forget about being with them, Daisy. It’ll never happen. They’re hot firefighters. You’re the Plain Jane. They don’t want you. And even if they did, what are you going to do: end up with all three? Dream on.

She sighed wistfully as the coffee maker hissed one final time, spitting the last of her brew into the cup.

She picked the mug up, blew on it, and leaned against the counter. Suddenly, a crackling from her office reached her ears and she pushed off the counter, eager to make it quickly to the scanner. The headset she wore only linked her to incoming emergency calls, so she needed to reach her office fast if she wanted to hear what was being said over the radio. She forgot about that full mug she held, though, and a few drops of hot coffee sloshed over the sides and splashed onto her hand.

“Ouch!” she cried.

It didn’t slow her down, however. She needed to make sure the guys were safe!

She hurried into her office, put the mug down, and plopped into her rolling chair as she turned up the scanner.

“You think someone’s in there?” a voice crackled.

She recognized the voice as belonging to Quinn Hardin, the sheriff of Big Cedar. He was out there, helping fight the blast. Some of the other men from town had gone, too, along with a department from a nearby town.

Surely that increased the guys’ odds of living through this thing, right?

Daisy wrung her hands and tried not to let her mind wander down such a dark path. She instead focused on the scanner.

“Roger that.” Walker’s voice crackled, along with a burst of static. “At least we think. Making entry now.”

Daisy stood and covered her mouth as her body was wracked by a cold shudder. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she’d heard enough to assume that the guys—or at least Walker—were entering some sort of structure.

She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer.

“Come back to me,” she said after a moment, her voice barely audible. “Come back, guys.”