The Firefighter's Dilemma
by Mariah Ankenman

Copyright © 2023 by Mariah Ankenman. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

“I call dibs on first shower!” Kincaid shouted.

“Dude, no. You had dibs last time,” Ward complained.

Stephanie Díaz chuckled to herself as she watched her fellow firefighters fight over who got to wash off the ash and smoke smell first. Sometimes it paid to be one of the only female firefighters in the company.

Not all the time, of course. She’d had to fight and claw her way to prove she belonged here.

A lot of men still didn’t think women could be first responders. What a bunch of sexist bullshit. She was just as good—no, she was better at her job than most of the men she worked with.

On days like today, when they were all hot, dirty, and sweaty from putting out a fire and there were only five shower stalls to eight firefighters, she was glad there was a separate bathroom. Technically it was for her and the one other female firefighter their station employed. It used to be the chief’s office and private bathroom, but when the station hired her and Vanessa Torres, Chief Jeffords moved to one of the empty storage rooms so the women could have privacy.

She breezed by the men, who were still arguing, silently thanking departmental scheduling that she and Torres rarely got put on shift together. A lovely hot shower all to herself. Pure heaven.

“I didn’t realize you were keeper of the shower chart, Ward,” Kincaid said.

Stephanie shook her head, commenting as she passed, “You better let Ward go first, Kincaid. If you don’t, he might get bored waiting and try to make dinner. Then we’ll be crouching over the porcelain throne all night.”

Ward scowled, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at her. “That was one time, Díaz. And it wasn’t my fault we got food poisoning—the eggs were bad.”

She scoffed. Everyone knew Ward couldn’t cook for shit. “They weren’t even fully cooked. The yolks were runny.”

“They were over easy,” he protested.

“They were gross.”

“They were, man,” Kincaid agreed. “Super gross.”

“Fine.” Ward threw his hands up in surrender. “When it’s my turn to cook, I’ll just bring in takeout from now on. Happy, everyone?”

“Dude, unclench and go shower,” O’Neil said. “I’ll start dinner and take second cleanup.”

“Thanks, man.” Ward slapped his fellow firefighter on the shoulder, glaring at her and Kincaid before heading toward the station’s small locker room.

Stephanie made her way to the women’s locker room. As she started to open the door, she felt a hand on her arm. Pausing, she glanced up to see Ward. He grinned. That smile made half the women in Denver drop their panties—according to the firehouse bragging—but not her. Her panties were firmly intact.

Working in the firefighter field, she stood side by side with a lot of very muscular, very attractive men. But they were all simply coworkers. Mixing work and pleasure was never a good idea, especially for her. Been there, done that, got the trashed reputation to prove it. She didn’t want anyone here thinking she’d slept her way into a job. She had worked her damn ass off to get where she was, and she deserved respect.

After her transfer four years ago, she had vowed never to get involved with another firefighter again. So what if Eli Ward looked like one of those surfers on that lifeguard show her mom used to watch? All blond hair and sky blue eyes, with a body kept in excellent shape by the demanding physical aspects of the job. And okay, he was funny, too, when he wasn’t being an ass.

But he was her friend and coworker.

End of story.

Rule number one in the “surviving in a male-dominated career” Díaz handbook: No dating or sleeping with coworkers. She couldn’t go through the rigmarole again—the gossip, the name-calling, the not-so-subtle jeers from her “friends.” After all this time, the memories still left a sour taste in her mouth.

“What, Ward?” She mentally chastised herself for being so abrupt with him. Not his fault her mind had wandered to the darkened corners of her memory.

He dropped her arm and took a step back. “Jeez, no need to bite my head off, Díaz.”

She sighed, the high of the call fading as exhaustion set in. “Sorry.” She rubbed her hand over her eyes. “I’m just a little beat.”

“Hey.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You did great out there. Kicked that fire’s ass.”

“Fires don’t have asses.” And she had done great. They all had. Ward included, though she’d rather eat his runny eggs than admit that fact.

“Always literal, Díaz.” He chuckled. “That’s why you’re so funny.”

She shoved his shoulder, unable to hide a smile. This was why they were friends. He always knew how to pull her out of a funk.

“Shut up and tell me whatever it is you wanted to say. And quickly, before Kincaid takes all the hot water.”

“Chief wants the two of us in his office after we clean up.”

His matter-of-fact declaration woke her up a little. “Huh, did he say why?”

Ward shook his head. “Nope. Just that he has something he wants to talk to both of us about.”

Weird, but what the chief wanted, the chief got. “Okay, thanks.”

She turned and headed into the small office/locker room, shutting the door behind her. Chief had added some old lockers and left a few chairs in there. There was only one shower, but since she and Vanessa rarely were on shift together, it worked. As she stripped, hanging up her jacket and pants and tossing her dirty T-shirt and jeans in the hamper, her heart started to pound. What could the chief want? If it were just a meeting with her, she’d assume he wanted to talk about a schedule shift or some volunteer opportunities he would ask her to head up.

Or maybe—her heartbeat kicked up with hope—something about a promotion.

She’d been working her butt off for years. Always reaching toward her goal: to be the youngest female fire chief in Denver. Every time a man in her life told her it was an impossible dream—and a shit ton had said it over the years—it just drove her to succeed. As a woman, she had to work twice as hard as her male coworkers. As a Latine woman, she felt she had to work twice as hard as her white female coworkers, which meant Stephanie was working four times as hard as everyone around her for less recognition. And she’d be damned if she let anyone’s doubt in her abilities get in her way.

Her parents had worked so hard to give her every opportunity growing up. They cheered her on when she got her degree in fire science. They supported her move to Denver when things went haywire at her old station. She would get that chief position one day.

She hadn’t been able to achieve her goal before they passed, but she knew, wherever they were, they were still watching, still cheering her on. She wouldn’t let them down.

She stepped into the small bathroom, turning on the shower in the small upright stall and stepping inside. The water pressure wasn’t great, since the guys were showering in the locker room next door, but it was hot and clean.

She grabbed the bar of soap from the dish and lathered up, washing away the soot and grime from a hard hour of fighting a blazing inferno that almost destroyed an entire building. Thankfully, the place had been abandoned, so there were no casualties. The only people who’d been injured were the drunk jackasses who thought it would be a good idea to set off illegal fireworks in an empty strip mall. And those jerks deserved all the fines and penalties coming their way. If the fire had spread to the stores still in operation just a block away, they could have killed someone.

Assholes.

It wasn’t even July yet. Where were these dicks getting fireworks? And why Americans celebrated their independence by blowing shit up, she’d never understand. She hoped the chief didn’t want to talk to her and Ward about working the Fourth of July fireworks display this year. She’d done it the last four years, and she deserved a damn break from what firefighters liked to call the worst night of the year.

She frowned at the thought. It couldn’t be that, because the Fourth of July schedule had been set months ago. If someone needed a sub, they would have come to her directly. So what could it be?

Grabbing the shampoo, she squirted a generous amount into her hair. The white suds covered her dark strands as the smell of clean, minty soap replaced the smell of smoke. Normally she didn’t go for scented things, but she kept a bottle of mint shampoo at the station. It was the only thing that could knock out the overpowering smell of fire remnants. Damn smell clung to hair and skin like nothing else. She’d tried every scent she could think of to get rid of it: rose, lilac, lavender, sunflower. All they did was make her smell like a flower garden…on fire.

It wasn’t until Ward tossed her a bottle of mint shampoo and said in his cocksure voice, “Try it now, thank me later, dude,” that she’d finally been able to get rid of the smell. She had thanked him, reluctantly and in a mumbled voice, because she hated it when he was right. Now she smelled like a stick of gum after a call, but she’d take it. No one liked being a walking reminder of fiery destruction—even the chief smelled of mint after attending a call. She wondered if that’s who Ward got the tip from.

Her nerves shot up again, thinking about the chief. Her body tensed with the need to rush to his office and find out what the hell he could want to see her and Ward about. They weren’t in trouble, were they? No. Chief wasn’t coy about letting the team know when they screwed up. If she had done something wrong, he would have brought her in immediately after they returned from the call. The thought did nothing to quell her anxiety. She was still anxious to hear what Chief Jeffords had to say.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

When she headed into the station’s small kitchen, she saw Ward leaning against the counter, his damp hair slicked back, dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a Denver Fire T-shirt. The same exact thing she and all their fellow firefighters were wearing.

Kincaid and Jamison were grabbing plates and silverware from the cabinets, and she assumed some of the guys were in the shower, since she didn’t see Turner anywhere. O’Neil stood at the stove, cooking something that smelled delicious, but her stomach was in such knots wondering what the chief could want, she doubted she’d be able to eat a bite of whatever dinner her coworker was preparing.

“Hey.” Ward straightened when he saw her enter the room. “Wanna grab a bite first?”

She shook her head, nudging her chin in the direction of the chief’s office. Ward nodded, a relieved expression crossing his face.

He made his way over to her as the rest of the men carried on with their duties.

“You ready?” he asked when he reached her side.

“Let’s do this thing.” She held up a fist, and he bumped it with his own.

Together, they made their way down the hall to the chief’s office. Ward reached out a hand to knock. A gruff “come in” sounded from inside the closed door. Stephanie took a moment to make sure her shirt was tucked in and no flyaway strand of hair had escaped her tightly coiled bun. Ward simply waited, having worked with her long enough to know she always liked to present her best foot forward to their superior officers, even if he did have a smirk on his face while he did it.

Wouldn’t hurt the pretty boy to check his own appearance. The T-shirt he was sporting was so wrinkled it looked like it’d been sitting in his gym bag for a week. Could the man take nothing seriously?

She curled her lip. “Wipe that look off your face and open the door.”

Ward just grinned bigger. “I don’t have a look.”

“You have a look.”

“Whatever you say, Díaz.”

Ward opened the door and motioned for her to go first.

She walked into the room, stopping in front of the chief’s desk, hands behind her back at attention. Ward, however, had a much more…relaxed attitude when it came to superiors.

“You wanted to see us, Jeffords?”

Would it kill the man to address their chief with his title? She knew they were like a family here, but the chief still deserved respect for the hard-won position he’d worked for. Never mind that he always told them to just call him Jeffords; she would never feel comfortable dropping the chief title when speaking to him.

“Yes.” Jeffords motioned to the two chairs facing his desk. “Have a seat, please.”

She sat on the edge of her chair, spine as straight as the firehouse pole. Ward, meanwhile, sprawled out in his chair, leaning back, legs spread wide as if the guy didn’t have a care in the world. Probably didn’t. She’d never met a person with fewer worries or cares than Eli Ward. She envied it as much as it annoyed her.

“As you know, the department is encouraged to participate in fundraising events throughout the year.”

Yes, and they were always so ridiculous. “Date with a Firefighter” auctions. The silly—but extremely popular—calendar they did each year. Standing at the People’s Fair every summer with fire hats held high for donations as people snapped pics with them. Ridiculous, but effective strategies to get money not only for the station but other charities around the Denver area.

“This year we’ve been chosen for a brand-new type of charity event.”

A tiny whisper of unease crept up the back of her neck. That sounded…ominous. “Sir?”

The chief cleared his throat. Shifted in his seat. A sinking feeling settled in her gut. Oh no. What outrageous schtick were they going to have to perform this year? She’d never understand why public services weren’t better funded. A lot of the smaller towns in Colorado didn’t even have paid firefighter positions. Their departments were all voluntary.

“I’ve been approached by a production company—”

“Production company?” Ward straightened in his chair. “Like TV?”

She scowled at his interruption but had to admit her curiosity was piqued, too. What the hell would a TV company have to do with funding and charity?

“I believe they said they were a local web show.” Chief shook his head. “Whatever the hell that means.”

The chief grabbed a paper on his desk and handed it over. Ward took it before she could. Leaning over his shoulder, she read the words on the page.

“A first responders’ reality competition?” She looked up, jaw dropping open with shock. Whatever she expected, it hadn’t been that. She didn’t even know a thing like that existed.

“Yes,” Chief confirmed. “The producer said she has what they call a million-views idea. They’re putting together teams from all the areas of first responders. Police, EMTs, firefighters, and a few others. The teams will compete in a series of challenges. Each group will get a donation to their place of employment as compensation, and their sponsors have agreed to award a twenty-thousand-dollar prize to the charity of the team’s choice if they win.”

Ward let out a low whistle. “Wow, big money.”

Indeed. Her mind raced to the Denver Youth Center. One of her fellow firefighters, O’Neil, had recently gotten engaged to the assistant director, and everyone at the station had been volunteering to help out around the center. 20k would certainly help fulfill some of the center’s ongoing needs. Plus, if the fire station got a donation of cash, too, that would be amazing. They always needed funds. And if she was the one to help facilitate that, it would look great on her record, maybe even help push her up the ladder.

The money and her career aside, the idea of crushing her challengers and showing the true value of the firefighters made her competitive spirit roar.

“Are we participating, sir?”

Chief nodded. “Yes, we’ve been invited, and I’ve selected you two to represent Station Forty-Two.”

She blinked as the chief’s words sank in. “Us? As in…”

“You and Ward, Díaz. The two of you will be taking a leave of absence for the filming of the show. Paid, of course. Two weeks in the Rocky Mountain National Park.”

“Sounds fun.” Ward grinned.

“Fun” wasn’t exactly the word she’d use, but she couldn’t argue that she wasn’t intrigued.

“There’s something else,” Chief said.

Her stomach tightened, the tone of his voice setting her nerves on edge.

“I know you both have ambitions of being chief one day.”

Her gaze cut to Ward. Everyone knew he was a firehouse legacy. His dad had been chief, and his dad before him, and so on. Ward made no effort to hide the fact that he planned to follow in his family’s footsteps. But if he thought nepotism would get him in over her, he had another think coming.

Stephanie didn’t plan on losing out to Ward. Friend or not.

“A spot has opened up on the lieutenant track.”

She saw Ward straighten out of the corner of her eye and held back a sigh. Sure, now he takes this seriously.

“I’ll be watching how you both perform in this competition. I know it’s a team effort, but these things always have individual events or items to win.” Jeffords gave them both a probing glance. “Make sure you’re at your best, because the outcome will influence who gets the promotion.”

“Yes, sir.” The words left her lips as determination filled her. “I’m positive Ward and I can lock down this competition, no sweat.”

And she would kick his ass, even if it was a team event. She’d show her boss—she’d show everyone—how capable she was.

Ward snorted. “Pretty sure we’re going to break a sweat, Díaz. I mean, I don’t know what deodorant you use, but mine claims twenty-four-hour protection, and the second I run more than a mile, BOOM! Sweat city. I will be a drenched mess when we kick the other teams’ asses.”

Could he not take anything seriously? She squeezed her fists and counted to five. The man was already working her nerves. This was going to be tricky. She’d have to get through two weeks of competition without strangling him.

She’d gone four years without maiming Eli Ward, though…no reason she couldn’t survive two measly little weeks.

“Don’t worry, Chief. We have this.”

In a show of solidarity, she held out her fist for Ward, who chuckled slightly before bumping it with his own.

“Yup, consider it already won.”

It was won. Ward liked winning just as much as she did. He just wasn’t as good at it as she was.

Worked out for her, since she planned to impress the socks off the chief and nab that promotion. She’d make sure she won this thing, got money for the Denver Youth Center, and proved herself to the chief. Stephanie Díaz was on a mission, and nothing and no one would get in her way.

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