My Calling (4 page)

The old man leans over the desk, his hands firmly planted on the edge. I’m not sure how much of this nostril flexing I can handle. I should’ve forced Saylor to listen to me all those years ago. We could’ve continued on with Eddie’s legacy, working in his garage and I would’ve never had to go to paramedic school and take this stupid job. Saylor loved cars, she was always excited to watch her uncle work and never hesitated to ask exactly what he was doing. Her passion for mechanics died with him. I continued his work, rebuilding cars for rich people so that I could have time to watch over Saylor and not have to work for ‘the man’.

Interrupting him, I stand up and nod. “I got it. Stay safe, wait for backup, follow protocol. Right?”

He stands frozen, surprised by my actions, but he nods, a bit dumbfounded. “Right.”

I turn to exit his office but he says my name again and I look over my shoulder.

“Nice work today.”

He reaches over and holds out his hand. I stare at it then slowly then shake his hand. Now, this part of having a boss isn’t that bad but I’d still rather work for myself.

Saylor

Calvin’s fingers walk up and down my arm and I do my best not to jump out of my skin from the unwanted attention. The bar is crowded yet again but tonight, it’s just the two of us. His finger lingers on my bare shoulder, tracing the outline of my tattoo.

“You know, I’m sure one of the doctors in this place could get rid of this for you.”

I scrunch my nose and pull back my shoulder. “Why would I want that?”

“Come on, Saylor, it’s not a very professional look. I mean look at Beck, patients are scared of him because of his.”

I roll my eyes. “He covers his up during shift, just like I do. You only know he has them because you saw him change in the locker room… just why, exactly, were you watching him change in the locker room?” I cock my head to the side, proudly calling him out.

Calvin shakes his head, sitting up straight. “I wasn’t watching him! The man is huge, it’s kind of impossible to not notice his colorful ink.”

The image of the 1970 Buick GSX in cherry red on his skin comes to mind. I smile at the memory of my uncle and the way the car danced over Beck’s muscles. Calvin’s right, Beck is huge and it brings dirty thoughts to my mind of just how big he might be. I cover my mouth as a giggle slips out.

Calvin rolls his eyes. “Come on, Saylor. I wasn’t looking at him. I only have eyes for you, baby.”

He dips his head to my shoulder, his lips skimming over my skin and I quickly jump up. As I do, I bump into a broad body behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, my heart pumps in double time as I see it’s Beck and his hands are on my waist to keep me from falling over.

“Everything okay here?” he asks, his right eyebrow raised as he looks between myself and Calvin.

“Yeah, totally,” I answer, sounding way too upbeat, even for me. Stepping around him, I nod to the bar. “I was just going to grab a drink. Anyone need anything?”

Calvin shakes his head, slumping down in his chair as Beck takes a seat at our table. Beck asks me to order him a beer and I make my way to the bar, ordering two and returning to the boys who are sitting in silence.

“Here ‘ya go.” I set one glass in front of him then take a seat between Calvin and Beck, holding the other drink in my hand.

“Who’s that for?” Beck nods at my beer.

“Me,” I answer casually, bringing the glass to my lips. I almost gag as it runs down the back of my throat but if I want Beck to think I’m a bad girl, this is the first step. Plunking the glass back on the table, I wipe the foam off my lips and smile. “Bad enough for you?”

Beck shakes his head, clearly not amused. “You’re not a bad girl, Saylor, so don’t pretend to be one.”

A waitress walks by with a tray of shots and I stand up, grabbing one off her tray and throwing it back. The alcohol burns the back of my throat and I slam the shot glass on the table.

“I beg to differ,
Beck
,” I say, mocking his name and sitting back down. 

Calvin perks up, clearly interested now that the dynamic has changed. Beck glances at Calvin then at me but doesn’t say a word. I pick up my beer and chug it again, the only way I’m able to actually drink it.

Beck lowers his voice. “Come on, Say, that’s enough. You’re bad, okay?”

“You’re lying.” My head starts to feel hazy but I keep drinking. “Why do you care if I drink?”

Beck glances across the table at Calvin then back to me. “Let me take you home, Saylor.”

“Whoa! If anyone’s taking her home, it’s going to be me,” Calvin interjects.

At the exact same moment, Beck and I burst out in laughter at his comment. Calvin, clearly upset, pushes his chair back and leaves. I turn my attention back to Beck, lifting my eyebrows as I do.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us…” I walk my fingers up his colorful arm, trying Calvin’s technique.

Unlike in the past, Beck doesn’t shake me off or push me away. He watches my hand moving along his arm then slowly lifts his head so that our eyes meet.

“Saylor, you’re playing with fire…” His hooded eyes look different but with all the alcohol swimming in my system, I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is.

Leaning toward him, I smile and whisper, “I like fire.”

CHAPTER 6

Saylor

My fingers linger on Beck’s tattoos. His eyes give me a different story than his body language does. His shoulders are tight under my touch while his eyes look hungry for something any bad girl would easily be willing to give up. My stomach flip flops at the intensity in his gaze and I reach for the glass in front of me, taking a long drink of the pungent alcohol. What anyone finds good about drinking beer is beyond me, but I’ll keep it up if only to prove a point.

Beck’s eyes are drawing me in and I stand up quickly to break the trance. Bad idea because the room starts to spin and I grip the table to steady myself. Forcing a smile to my face, I take a couple steps backward as the Biebs flows through the speakers. A safe distance away from Beck, which also happens to be in the middle of the dance floor, I sway my hips to the music, not caring who is watching or how ‘bad’ I look. Today was a stressful day and being one in the rhythm is exactly what I need.

“Hey, sexy, love your moves,” a deep voice interrupts my mind clearing moment.

I open my eyes and see a doctor I recognize from the emergency room sliding his hands around my waist, pulling my body against his. I smile, slipping my hands around his neck. Maybe I need to take it a step further to fully decompress from today’s fiasco where Beck almost got us both killed. A new song plays and I shimmy a little closer to Dr. ER, his lips almost touch my neck when his body jerks away from mine. My brain is still foggy from the alcohol so it takes a few seconds to comprehend that Beck is standing behind the doctor, pulling him away from me.

“Sorry, bud, she’s with me,” Beck informs him. The doctor doesn’t put up a fight as he scurries away from the burly, bearded man before him. Beck holds out his hand to me, lifting his eyebrow. “Come on, Saylor.”

I take his hand but shake my head as I do. “If I’m with you then you’re with me and that means we dance.”

A low groan that stirs up my hormones comes from Beck and he shakes his head. “No way in hell. I don’t dance.”

The buzz I’ve got going on is giving me more confidence than normal and so, I pull my hand back, playfully shaking my head. “Then I guess you’re not with me.”

I turn my back to him, shaking my hips slowly, on the prowl for someone who will dance away my worries. It’s only a matter of seconds before Beck’s thick hands are on my hips and my body is pressed tightly against his.

His breath is warm on my neck, sending unneeded, yet completely wanted, shots of desire right between my legs. “Fine, Saylor, you win… this time.”

Thank God Beck’s hands are on my waist because my legs turn to jelly at his statement. My panties, already damp, are even more so now. I close my eyes, enjoying the close proximity of this man I barely know yet feel so drawn to. The next couple songs play but Beck doesn’t dance. He holds me close as I sway my hips, dancing for both of us. Once again, his body betrays him and I know he’s enjoying this as much as I am.

“How did you know I don’t cuss?” I ask through my rapid breathing.

Beck’s body tightens against mine as I interrupt the unspoken connection between us. “What are you talking about?” he whispers, his lips so close yet so far away from brushing against my ear as he speaks.

“You told the lady in the car that I don’t cuss, but I never told you that.”

Beck’s shoulders move up and down. “Never heard you cuss before.”

I spin around, feeling extra bold from my liquid courage. Our chests press together and I run my hand over the back of his thick head of hair. “So what? I might cuss, you just haven’t heard me yet.”

Beck’s body is rigid beneath my touch yet his eyes still show that longing we both want. “Fuck,” he whispers and I grip his neck tighter as my legs get weaker.

“Wh-what?” I squeak out.

“Say fuck and prove me wrong, badass.” He lifts his eyebrows, taunting me to curse.

“I… I…” I stutter, unable to even formulate a sentence, much less mutter that four-letter word. Flustered by the whole situation, and totally planning to blame the alcohol should this go badly, I close my eyes, press up on my tippy toes, and aim for Beck’s lips to touch mine...

Beck

Why am I in the middle of a dance floor, a fuckin’ dance floor for fuck’s sake? Why is my body reacting to her this way? Why am I even this close to her? My vow was to watch out for her for Eddie, not to dance with her when she’s three sheets to the wind. And
whoa!
Why the hell is Saylor leaning in for a kiss?

Still holding her tightly, I’ll tell myself it’s so she doesn’t fall over drunk, I lean my head out the line of fire from her lips. “Alright, badass, I think it’s time we get you home.”

Saylor’s bright blue eyes pop open, her lips forming an O and making me picture that face in another kind of situation. She tries to shrug me off, stumbling as she walks away from me and mumbling something about being fine and not needing my help.

I don’t respond as I wait for her to gather her belongings and stagger toward the parking lot. If there’s one thing that Saylor inherited from her uncle, it’s his stubbornness. She’s also a smart woman so I know she won’t get behind the wheel of her car and if she does, that’s why I’m here, to save her from herself, along with the other dangers lurking out there that she has no idea about.

Leaning against the brick wall, it’s moments like these that I wish I still smoked but like many things in my life, I gave it up for Saylor. The last guy she dated didn’t know what hit him when she started in on a rant about the side effects of secondhand smoke. I’ve heard the spiel more than once so I decided to ditch the habit before she caught me.

An exasperated sigh beside me has me turning to look into the face of a flustered Saylor. My lips twitch, wanting to smile which is something I’m not used to, but I keep my face as serious as possible. It’s a difficult task given the pinched-up face that Saylor is sporting that reminds me of when she was a bratty teenager in her uncle’s shop. However, her hands on her hips accentuating her voluptuous breasts that are about to topple out of her tank top remind me nothing at all of that girl asking a million questions as her uncle worked on a car.

“Fine, you can drive home,” she says as though she’s doing me some big favor.

I scoff and shake my head. This woman is unbelievable. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Saylor Warner is going to be the death of me. Luckily, she zips her lips as we get in my truck but as I pull away from the bar, Saylor starts singing along with the radio. Her voice stuns me as I haven’t ever heard her sing before but it’s nothing short of amazing.

“I didn’t know you could sing.” I glance at her out of the corner of my eyes.

Saylor’s eyes narrow. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Oh, yeah, that’s right. We’re strangers… and she just tried to pick me up at the bar. Not sure exactly how I feel about that… I decide not to push the topic, limits have already been breached tonight, so instead, I listen to Saylor outsing every artist on the radio. I pull into the parking lot of her apartment complex and shut off the engine. Her singing comes to a stop and she looks over at me.

“I didn’t give you my address.”

Shit.
“I checked your ID, figured you were too drunk to tell me.”

Saylor opens her mouth to object and I hold up my hand. “Let me walk you inside then I’ll leave you alone, okay?”

She huffs and hits the seat belt release button repeatedly but it won’t budge. My knuckles graze her thigh as I unhook her seat belt for her. Surprising me, Saylor takes a quick inhale and I look up at her to see her biting her bottom lip.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, leaning back against my truck door.

I nod. “Yeah, whatever. Which apartment is yours?”

“9D,” she says, jumping out of my truck and scurrying ahead of me up the ridiculous nine flights of stairs.

I have to jog up the first flight to catch Saylor, I never knew she was such a speedster. When we meet on the second level, I take her hand in mine to ensure she doesn’t stumble down the stairs after all the alcohol she consumed, which is probably more tonight than her entire lifetime.

Saylor pauses only to stare at our hands then take off at top speeds again, practically dragging me behind her. When we get to her front door, the one I’ve stared at more times than I can count, she pats her pockets as though there’s really any room for anything in there as tight as they are.

I hold up her keys, dangling them in front of her. Saylor grabs for them but I pull them away quickly, chuckling as I do. Sorting through the keyring, I find the only possible one that could be her apartment key and have the door open in seconds. Saylor slides past me, making a dash for the bathroom and my laughter dissipates as I hear her lunch coming back up. When I told Eddie I’d take care of Saylor, holding back her hair as she pukes was not what I had intended.