easing out of her muscles.
“Yeah. Sean rescued me, not that I needed rescuing.”
“Of course not,” Hope said, patting her hand.
“Sean, huh?” The speculative look that Tatum passed across the table didn’t do much to settle Lola’s nerves.
“Nope, don’t go there.”
Easing back in her chair, her friend crossed her arms over her chest and raised a single eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because the last thing I need is to encourage Sean. He’s been trying to get me into bed for months.”
“And remind me, why have you resisted?” Tatum asked. “He’s hot, has a reputation for knowing exactly what he’s doing in the bedroom, and you haven’t exactly been burning up the sheets lately.”
“Or ever,” Willow Warwick tacked on in her soft way. That didn’t quite kill Lola’s twinge of embarrassment and annoyance—at herself. Her friends weren’t wrong.
“We’re not suggesting you become the Sweetheart slut, honey,” Lexi said. “But there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun now and again. A girl has needs.”
Yeah, right. That was easy for them to say. They all had amazing husbands who were perfectly capable of meeting every one of their needs. They didn’t remember how difficult it was to be single.
Lola looked around the table at the women staring earnestly back at her. Lexi she’d known almost all her life—their dads had been friends forever. Tatum had moved to Sweetheart several years ago. Lola had known Hope and Willow before, but they’d never been real friends.
Not until she’d moved back after college and opened her studio on Main Street, right down from Lexi’s, Willow’s and Tatum’s shops and the newspaper office where Hope worked. In the past few years, they’d become so close that it felt like these women had always been a part of her life.
They knew everything, which sometimes was a curse more than a blessing.
Tatum’s eyebrows beetled, her gaze swept across the table and, making a quick decision, she signaled their waitress for another round.
“No,” Lola protested when she appeared with their drinks.
But Tatum ignored her. “Trust me, you’re gonna need this,” she said, holding out the second shot to her. “Because I’m about to lay something on you.”
Lola stared at the glass for a couple of seconds, looked up into Tatum’s steady gaze and decided what the hell. She tossed it back, the fire of it flaming in her belly.
“When’s the last time you got laid? No, don’t answer that because I already know. It’s been months. Probably closer to a year. You need sex. To take the edge off. Especially with Erik back in town.”
Tatum aimed a pointed look at her. “Trust me when I say I understand how difficult it is to resist falling back into bed with someone you have history with.”
God, that was the last thing she needed right now. Even the thought of sleeping with Erik again sent heat straight through her. The problem was, the reaction was immediately chased by an icy cold that burned almost as much as the whiskey.
“Sean’s been dancing around you for months. And here’s the thing. He’s safe. Everyone knows he doesn’t do permanent.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that you fuck his brains out and take the edge off so you’re not a lit fuse on a firework ready to explode every time you run into Erik. You know Erik’s going to be working at the fire station—you’re bound to see him. You can’t avoid him altogether.”
She could sure try. And maybe it was the two shots of whiskey talking—on top of the two beers she’d had before her friends decided she needed the hard stuff—but the idea of jumping Sean didn’t sound completely asinine.
In fact, it sounded...perfect. Damn, she needed to get laid. Ever since running into Erik yesterday, her body had been a riot of reactions and nerves. And God knew that option wasn’t any option at all.
She was not sleeping with Erik again. Period.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t attracted to Sean. She was. Who wouldn’t be? He was fit, funny and sexy as hell. She just wasn’t interested in anything deep with a guy who ran into burning buildings for a living.
If she was honest and up front with him about what this was, and what it wasn’t...
The fire that had rolled into her belly along with the shots started to spread a pleasant warmth through her body.
Slowly Lola said, “Sean’s working tonight.” A plan began to form in her head. Lola had always been a woman of action. Once she made up her mind, she rarely saw any reason to delay executing.
Tatum’s eyebrows shot up and a wicked smile twisted her mouth.
Hope said, “You’ve had a couple drinks, Lola. Are you sure you want to do this now?”
She shook her head, the room moving a little. “Why not? I mean, I don’t necessarily need the liquid courage, but it can’t hurt. Especially for what I’ve got in mind.”
Pushing her chair back, Lola barely heard the loud scrape of legs against the wooden floor. “One of you ladies mind dropping me at the station?”
“You’re sure?” Willow asked, staring up at her.
Lola nodded. “I need to do this.” She needed to exorcise thoughts of Erik from her head—and memories of him from her body. The girls were right. She needed to take the edge off before she did something really stupid. It was going to be a long few weeks if she didn’t.
Hope drove her to the front of the station. She offered to walk inside with her, but Lola refused. The station had been her second home all her life. She was comfortable there. Comfortable with the guys.
Although, it was late, creeping toward midnight, so most likely everyone would be catching some sleep.
The heat of the day had faded, and the pleasant breeze actually made her a little chilly. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Lola hugged herself. She tipped her head backward, taking in the brilliant stars shining through the black canvas of sky.
The world spun. Oh, maybe tipping her head back wasn’t such a good idea.
She slipped into the station, registering that the engine sat silent, doors open and waiting, behind the huge rolling glass door. All the lights were out, except the few they kept burning around the clock.
Lola tiptoed down the hall toward the honeycomb of rooms the guys used on shift. She’d been here a million times, even occasionally in the middle of the night, when she was younger and visiting her father. When she got older it was to see Colt or Erik.
Nope, she wasn’t thinking about him tonight. This was about exorcising Erik from her body and mind, not taking a stroll down memory lane.
Each shift was made up of four positions, each with a separate room, several beds filling the space so that every guy had his own whenever he was on. They all had lockers for their belongings. Despite the close quarters, she knew from personal experience that the rooms were surprisingly soundproof.
Which was a good thing, considering what she planned.
Lola paused outside Sean’s room. Butterflies twisted through her belly. Or maybe that was the whiskey.
Either way, now that she was here, she was determined to see this through.
Standing at the doorway, Lola began to strip, letting her clothes drop softly to the floor. She stopped at her bra and panties, her bravado only carrying her so far.
She could just see the outline of his long body beneath the thin sheet. Lola paused at the edge of the bed.
Should