His mom and sister always told him he had a transparent face. Couldn’t keep a secret no matter how hard he tried.
Now, he guessed Jenny’d agree. She must’ve read his thoughts because her eyes opened wider. She ducked her head, which made her hair slide down in wings on each side of her face.
Scott felt so hot, pretty soon his damp clothes would dry from the heat of his skin.
“Who’s your girlfriend, Softy?” the lieutenant asked as the guys walked over to join him and Jenny.
“Gonna introduce us?” John-Boy chimed in.
Now, there was a surefire way of dousing a hard-on. He was relieved, but also pissed at them for breaking the moment.
“Sure. Jenny, meet Little Man Mancuso, John-Boy Boyd, and you’ll remember the lieutenant, Bulldog Spievak.” He was pushing it, using their nicknames rather than given names.
John-Boy stepped forward first, hand outstretched. “Johnson Boyd, Jenny. Real pleased to meet you.” And real reluctant to let go of her hand.
“Tony Mancuso.” Damned if Little Man didn’t actually raise her hand to his lips.
“And I sure remember you,” the lieutenant said, almost drooling like his namesake. “You just call me Bulldog, honey. For my big brown eyes.”
Jenny laughed with apparent delight. “It’s so great to meet all of you. I’d love to get your thoughts about Scott’s—” She broke off, darted him a mischievous glance. “Sorry, I mean Softy’s winning Mr. February.”
“A fluke,” John-Boy said, grinning.
“Nah,” Little Man chipped in. “It says a lot for our fire hall.”
“How do you figure?” Jenny cocked her head.
Little Man winked. “We send our ugliest guy, and he creams the competition. Hell, if we’d all competed, we’d have booked up the whole calendar.”
Jenny chuckled. “Good point. I know I’d buy that calendar.”
Scott groaned. Damn, she was flirting with them. All of them except him.
Then she tilted her head and studied Little Man with a considering look. “The question is, can you all dance as well as Scott?”
“Better,” John-Boy answered promptly. “Speaking for myself, that is. You let me take you to the Roxy one Friday night and I’ll show you.”
Steaming, Scott jerked his head, caught John-Boy’s eye and shot him a look that said “mine.” Besides, wasn’t the other firefighter already dating someone?
John-Boy tossed him a cocky grin. It told Scott he’d just been fooling around. Winding Scott up, to see if he’d stake his claim.
And he had. On a girl he’d barely met.
Jenny was studying the guys, all of them more than a foot taller than her. How could a girl who looked like a tiny doll have complete control over four giant firefighters?
Her gaze settled on Scott. “How’d you get so wet?” she asked. That gaze took its time, taking in the damp cotton that hugged his chest, then traveling down to where the cloth clung to his package. A package that was growing again under her scrutiny.
“The pisser hasn’t learned how to control his hose?” she teased.
The other guys exploded in laughter.
“Nah,” Scott said. “It’s the rest of them. You know how kids love splashing everyone in sight? Well, some kids never grow up.”
That was how all these hazing rituals struck him. Childish. He’d come here to do a man’s job, and he got treated like the new kid in elementary school.
And right now he was sick of all the attention she and the guys were paying each other. After all, she’d come to see him, Mr. February, hadn’t she? “You wanted an interview?” he reminded her.
“Mmm.” She opened that same pink backpack she’d been carrying Friday night and brought out a tape recorder. “Anyone mind if I turn this on? It’s way easier—and more accurate—than scribbling thousands of notes.”
No one objected so she pushed a button and then set the machine in the top of her open bag. “Okay, tell me how Scott came to enter the calendar competition in the first place, and how the rest of you felt about it.”
Damn, why’d she have to keep including the others?
Little Man was already talking. “We made him do it.”
She glanced at Scott. “True?”
Scott nodded. “Joe Probie. What can I say? They’ll make me do anything.” Mostly, stuff that was humiliating. He knew he was supposed to suck it up and smile, so he tried to find a grin.
“Have to,” the lieutenant said. “It’s part of our job.”
“To hassle the newbie?” Jenny looked skeptical.
“Gotta know if he’s with us. Part of the team.”
“It’s about trust,” John-Boy put in.
“Uh…” Jenny’s fine black brows had drawn together. “Can you expand on that?”
Yeah, could they? Scott would love to know the answer himself. Was this just about torture, or was there some actual logic behind it?
The other guys glanced around at each other, then shrugged. “That’s pretty much it,” Little Man said. “We all go through it.”
“So,” she said, “having been treated like crap yourselves when you first started out, you’re compelled to carry on that fine old tradition when the next probationer comes along?”
Scott grinned for real this time. She sure had a way with words.
The lieutenant gave a snort of laughter. “You got it.” Then he straightened his face. “Plus all that stuff we said about being a team. Gotta test the new guy before we can trust him.”
Jenny was quiet for a few seconds and then she said, “When you go into a fire, it’s not each man for himself. The four of you are a team. Each of you has to know he can count on the other guys, no matter how tough it gets. No one’s going to break, because if someone does, it puts the other guys in danger.”
She’d nailed it.
Scott knew all this stuff; it had been drummed into his head during training, but she was tying it into the shit the guys had shoveled his way since he joined Fire Hall 11. The way she put it, the razzing almost made sense. The guys were testing to make sure he was strong enough to be part of their team.
The other three were nodding.
“Hmm,” Jenny mused. “And I guess it doesn’t get much tougher than having to carry the honor of your company up on stage in that calendar competition.”
Scott’s lips twitched.
The lieutenant made a fist and whacked him in the chest. Hard. “And then old Softy hadda go and do that girlie dance.”
“Whatever it takes to win,” Scott said evenly. “Whether you’re beating a fire or a bunch of other competitors.”
“I’m with Scott,” Jenny said. “He did you guys proud. You might think that dance was girlie, but I can tell you, every woman in the audience thought he was the sexiest guy on stage.” She shot him a sultry look. “He could’ve taken any one of them home on Friday night.”
Okay, so maybe she was exaggerating, but he’d felt it. The power. The aura of pure sex steaming back and forth between him and the audience. And then with those girls who came backstage.
He could’ve had any of them, and he’d chosen her.