Repeat after me. No touching the rookie. No kissing the rookie. No having sex with the rookie on your breakfast table.

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Casey and Bianca are amazing. I need more!

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His cute new rookie wasn’t in the bunk room, or the barn either. They split up to check the lounge and galley.

Casey found her in the gym, wearing considerably less than when they’d left her. Her uniform top was off, and her white tank top was damp, revealing a green, near-transparent sports bra. Her cheeks were flushed, a thin sheen of perspiration coated her skin, and she was on her knees, straining and panting.

“What are you doing?” Casey hissed.

How was he supposed stay chivalrous if his brain immediately snapped to images of bending her over the nearest bench?

She glanced up from her activity. “I’m scrubbing the floor.”

Casey commanded his cock to stop thinking about her. “Why are you scrubbing the floor?”

She stood up, dressed in a pair of very loose Firehouse 19 Physical Training shorts. “It doesn’t look like anyone has cleaned here in years. I mopped first, and now I’m scrubbing the floor with bleach.”

“It’s a gym. It’s supposed to be dirty.”

She shrugged, “I get that it’s a gym. However, the grime on the floor is going to gain a personality and start killing people. So a little bleach and some elbow grease will go a long way.”

She made a scrubbing motion with her hand that in no way reminded him of jerking off.

“You don’t have to do this,” he cut her off.

“It’s no problem. I’m a rookie, so I might as well clean. I hear it’s gonna be half my job for the first year. Besides, did you know the magazines I found stuck underneath one of the benches are old enough to vote?”

“They are?” That was news to Casey, who spent a considerable amount of time in the gym. He probably never looked at the floor.

“Yeah.” She bent down and grabbed a stack of magazines off the floor, and he did not notice her tank top, which must have been her undershirt, slide up her back. She had a little splay of stars tattooed on her right shoulder. “We have fitness magazines and Playboy. It’s time to toss them.”

“Oh.” He glanced at the top wrinkled Playboy where a blonde woman in shoulder pads plus high-cut swimsuit stared back at him. “What if the other guys were using them?”

Now he wished he’d said anything except that. Here he was trying not to equate scrubbing the floor and jerking off… by talking about jerking off.

“I usually wouldn’t get rid of anybody’s recreational material, but that is Christie Brinkley, and she’s a grandma now.”

“Okay, they have to go.” Casey didn’t want to dwell on that.

They both reached for the magazines and collided. Without thinking, he put his arms around her to steady her. Her body pressed flush against his, and he found himself staring into her light brown eyes. He needed to come up with a color for them. What browns were in the Crayola crayon box? Sepia, tumbleweed, burnt sienna, or was it raw sienna?

“I see you found her,” Royce said from the door.

“I can explain.” Casey jumped a good foot away from Bianca.

She nodded enthusiastically, unfazed. “We were both reaching for the Playboys and—”

“You’re not making this better,” Casey grumbled.

Royce cleared his throat, “Lieutenant told me there’s a storm rolling in, so I suggest we let her get showered in case we end up on generator power.”

“He means we cut off the hot water and the air conditioning to conserve power to the trucks,” Casey explained. “Our generator’s pretty old so we turn off everything else.”

“Unless you like your showers cold,” Royce commented, obviously enjoying making Casey feel like he’d got his hand caught in the firefighter-sex-cookie-jar again.

“Other people need a cold shower,” Casey muttered under his breath.

“Then I guess I’d better go do that.” She walked past them and turned back when they started following her. “I can shower by myself.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant says we have to come with you.” Royce said, nudging Casey after her.

“He did?” Casey hadn’t expected that. Their captain had taken the day off, and this shift’s lieutenant wasn’t known for his attention to detail.

“We don’t have women’s showers, so we’re supposed to close the bathroom while she’s in there and monitor the door to preserve her privacy,” Royce said. “Especially after this week.”

“What happened this week?”

“Nothing,” Casey barked.

She smiled again, shrugged, and went into the locker room.

“Are you going to stop doing that?” Casey pointed at Royce’s shit eating grin.

“Doing what?” Royce asked innocently.

“Acting like, I’m gonna lose control of myself and bang her the second I’m alone with her?”

“You’re not the one I’m worried about. I’m taken, and you already know the problems of touching her. It’s best the other guys, stop by here while she’s showering.”

Casey completely agreed with this plan. If he was having trouble as the usual resident nice guy, the other guys didn’t need to know her skin would be getting slick and wet, perfect for…