Fanning the Biker's Flame - Piper Davenport Page 0,1

in front of me.

I rubbed my hands together, lifted a rib to my mouth and took a bite… just as the alarm sounded.

“Engine Twelve, residential fire, 5-1-5 Montgomery Street,” our dispatcher said over the intercom.

Shit. The Bowery had multiple apartments that could be at risk. We all pushed back from the table and made a run for our boots. We suited up and then it was go-time. I climbed into the truck after Rondle and tried to stamp down the excitement as we hauled ass to the site of the fire.

* * *

Posey

I stood outside my apartment building and covered my face with my hands. I’d lived there for less than three months, and I’d only moved in because of a really nasty break-up with my ex. An ex whose apartment I’d been living in for two years, so I had to find somewhere else, fast. I didn’t need this.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” my elderly neighbor, Sharon, crooned, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

The flashing red lights of the fire truck lit up the exterior brick and a small crowd of residents gathered around me. I was mortified.

“This wasn’t a 9-1-1 level emergency,” I breathed out.

“Your kitchen was on fire, dear heart,” Sharon reminded me.

“I was putting it out!” I cried, my face flaming.

“Better safe than sorry.”

Hailey Calloway waltzed into the crowd and gave me a scowl before turning to her friend and shaking her head. Hailey was twenty-two years old and her father owned the building. He’d given her the top floor apartment, four times the size of mine, and she was the epitome of what you’d call a rich bitch.

“I heard she tried to cook the box,” Hailey said nastily.

I turned away with a quiet groan. I didn’t try to cook the box, the instructions just didn’t mention you were supposed to take the food out of the box before putting it in the oven. I was never going to let my mother try to talk me into anything cooking related again.

“Who’s the resident?” a very severe fireman bellowed.

“Um…” I raised my hand. “I am.”

He walked over to me, another firefighter following. “Ma’am, you have some minor smoke damage to your wall, but nothing structural that I can see. You will need to replace your range, but otherwise, you were very lucky.”

I nodded, my gaze drawn to the young firefighter next to him. He was beautiful, but he was also smirking. Obviously judging me and judging me harshly. I scrunched up my nose and focused back on the man in charge.

“Next time, make sure you don’t cook the box,” he suggested.

“I didn’t mean—never mind. It doesn’t matter,” I grumbled, my face blazing again.

“Everything’s clear, folks. It’s safe to go back to your homes,” the young, ridiculously gorgeous, and Judgy McJudgerson, firefighter called out.

With my head hung down in shame, I escaped to my apartment and closed and locked the door. Just as my phone rang.

“Shit,” I breathed out, then answered the call. “Hi, Mr. Calloway.”

“What’s this about a fire?”

“It was a small accident in my kitchen,” I said. “Everything’s fine.”

“Hailey said it was much, much worse.”

“It really wasn’t,” I rushed out.

“Do I need to come down and look at the damage?”

“No,” I stressed. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

“Well, I’m going to be in town at the end of month. I’d like to see for myself.”

“I’m fine with that, Mr. Calloway. I’m sorry anyone bothered you.”

“I’ll see you then, Posey.”

“Okay,” I said, and hung up. Then I called my mom.

* * *

“Honey,” Mom spat out on a laugh. “You didn’t really put the box in the oven, did you?”

“Guilty.”

“I really have failed you as a mother.”

“Focus, Mama. I’m going to lose my apartment if I can’t figure out how to fix this damage. I have just over three weeks to get this kitchen back to status-quo.”

“Isn’t that something your landlord will take care of?”

I frowned. “I’m the one who nearly burned down his building, Mom, he shouldn’t have to take care of it.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe I didn’t raise you all that wrong. At least you take responsibility for your mistakes.”

I rolled my eyes. “I would think that was more important than being able to cook.”

“Well…”

“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.”

“It’s too bad you didn’t keep Carl around,” Mom said.

“Carl was a douche, Mama, and you know it.” I frowned. “And, let’s be honest, it took me far too long to cut him loose.”

“There is that,” she conceded. “I’ll give Sterling a call.”

“Who’s Sterling?”

“My friend from high school. He’s a contractor.