“I see,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of bitter coffee.
“So, you fought with someone?” Harris asked, his eyes betraying the question he didn’t voice: Is there someone you’re interested in?
Dom breathed out. “It was inconsequential.”
Definitely the understatement of the century.
“Should I reshuffle the roster?” Harris asked.
“Gods, no.” Dom scowled. “I can deal with it.”
Harris watched him, as though he was mentally checking off the alphas on their team, trying to figure out who Dom had butted heads with. “This doesn’t have to do with our disagreement, does it?” Harris asked casually, rising to refill his mug. “Two years back, on the new hire.”
Dom kept his swearing to himself. In all their years of being captain and deputy, they’d only disagreed on team additions once. “Like I said, it’s minor. Nothing you need to bother with.”
Harris looked at him askance. Dom focused on his coffee.
They passed the next half hour in silence, Dom filling his mind with the familiar sounds of the station—trucks pulling in and out, alarms sounding, voices ringing through the garage.
York showed up, slinging his arm around Alec’s neck. Brad and Nate chatted on their way to the locker room. Gareth arrived smelling like an omega, looking a lot happier than he’d been in years. Good for him.
Dom was about to leave the kitchen to do something productive, when Sinclair stepped through the doorway and froze.
Cinnamon wafted through the air. Dom remembered the sound of Sinclair’s groan against his lips, he remembered Sinclair shaking so hard with the force of his climax that, if Dom had released him, Sinclair might’ve fallen onto the ground.
That memory made Dom’s throat go dry.
Their gazes met. Sinclair narrowed his eyes, but a light flush crept up his throat. Was he... embarrassed?
The last time Dom had seen him, Sinclair had been furious. But Dom’s conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave anyone to fend for themselves. Especially someone he’d shared an intimate moment with.
Maybe Dom shouldn’t have coddled him—that was what he would’ve done for an omega. Sinclair wasn’t one.
But it had felt right, damn it.
Dom really, really hated the little voice that told him to protect Jesse Sinclair.
He brought his mug to the sink, rinsing it. Somewhere behind, Harris said, “Oh, Jesse. Didn’t hear you step in. You haven’t had breakfast?”
“No,” Sinclair rumbled. A paper bag rustled. He drew something out of there, the foil crinkling as he folded it back from his food.
“That looks tasty,” Harris said.
“I got it from downtown. Cheese, sausage, and scrambled egg.”
Dom put his mug away, turning. All he’d intended was to say hi to Sinclair like a regular deputy should. Then he would head into the garage.
Except Sinclair had wrapped his lips around a burrito that was—hell, it was roughly the size of Dom’s cock.
Dom met his eyes, his greeting lodged in his throat. So he looked back at the burrito. No, bad move. He didn’t need to picture Sinclair sucking him off.
Except the same thought seemed to have crossed Sinclair’s mind. He unwrapped his mouth from that blunt length, leaving it glistening.
Then he met Dom’s stare, his jaw set in a defiant jut.
A thought flashed through Dom’s mind—what it would feel like to rub himself all over Sinclair’s face? To shove his bulge against Sinclair’s lips, and make him submit?
Desire coursed through his veins; his body remembered that night.
Ever so deliberately, Sinclair opened his mouth, biting all the way through the burrito. Then he chewed on it, and swallowed.
Dom’s balls tightened. Maybe that had been a threat, but his body didn’t care.
To the side, Harris coughed like he was trying to stifle a laugh.
Damn it! Dom glared at his old friend. Harris only gave him a knowing look in return.
We’re not recruiting a lover for you, Harris had said back then. Look how that had turned out.
Before Dom could say a word, Valen poked his head into the kitchen. “Is Harris in here? Oh!”
Valen grinned and hurried around Dom, making a beeline for the A Team captain. Then he caught Harris in a quick kiss, squeezing his ass. “I’m stepping down from station duties,” Valen said against Harris’ lips. “I love that this is our handover ritual.”
Harris laughed. “You just grabbed my ass. That’s a handover?”
Valen smiled. “What, should I call it a handshake?”
He grabbed Harris’ ass and tried to shake it. Dom rolled his eyes. “Gods, Valen,” Dom muttered. “Don’t do that in public.”
They’d been teammates years back, before Valen had transferred to the C Team—really so Valen and Harris could take turns spending time with their family.
Valen only grinned, kissing Harris again. “I’m just giving my alpha something to look forward to when he gets home.”
“Any more of that, and my teeth will rot,” Dom answered.
When he glanced away, he found Sinclair still watching Valen and Harris, an odd look on his face.
Sinclair had witnessed the intimacy of their team captains—he’d been with the station for a couple years. But this was the first time Dom was seeing his reaction to it. Was that... wistfulness? Or disbelief?
Sinclair tore his gaze away, meeting Dom’s stare. Then he dropped his attention to his burrito, biting furiously into it.
Everything that Harris and Valen were—Dom and Sinclair were not.
And Dom felt it, suddenly, the joy on the other end of the kitchen. The joy that neither Sinclair nor himself had. The joy that he wouldn’t allow himself to have, because it put his heart at so much risk.
When he met Sinclair’s eyes again, he found curiosity there. Wariness. As though Sinclair was wondering about the two of them.
That’s never going to happen.
Dom stepped out of the kitchen, his pulse thudding too hard.
9
Jesse Loses His Temper
As the higher powers would have it, Jesse was stuck alone with Dom on this call.
It usually didn’t happen. Most calls, there was at least one other firefighter with them, or Jesse
