“I guess we’re slow-dancing,” I said.

“I guess we are,” the rookie said, like it was a dare.

I never backed down from a dare.

I reached up around his shoulders and settled against him. Once again, I was aware of how naked I was under my dress. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I stared at the knot of his tie.

I felt dazed. All I could focus on, really, was how strange I felt. I’d slow-danced before, but this was entirely different at the cellular level. I was achingly aware of every part of my body that was touching his—the weight of my arms on his shoulders, the warmth of his palms on my hips, the nearness of his freshly shaved neck, the scent of his deodorant.

The way nothing separated us but fabric.

“If we’re going to pretend to date, Christabel, you should probably stop calling me ‘rookie.’”

I tried to focus. “What else would I call you?”

“How about my name?”

Finally, I met his eyes. “What is your name?”

He pulled back to give me a frown. “You know my name,” he said.

“Callaghan,” I said.

“My first name.”

I studied his face for a minute. Then I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing.”

He flared his nostrils. “Try.”

This was good. This was helping me focus. Now my brain had a task—and that task was teasing him. “Felix,” I said, mentally trying it out on him.

“Seriously?”

“Frank!” I tried. “Melvin.”

“Melvin?”

He actually looked a little perturbed. This was fun. “Reginald,” I offered. “Maximilian. Jebediah.”

He set his jaw with a kind of grudging respect for my obnoxiousness. “Jebediah Callaghan.”

I was delighted by his irritation. “It has a ring to it.”

He let out a good sigh. “It’s Owen. My first name is Owen.”

“You want me to call you Owen?” I asked, like it was the craziest idea ever.

“Yeah, actually,” he said. “I kind of do.”

I gave him a serious nod. “Okay, Oscar,” I said. “I respect that.”

He didn’t let himself correct me.

Triumphantly, I rested my head on Owen’s shoulder—and that’s when I saw his whole family watching us.

“All that worry for nothing,” I said then. “Your mom is fine.”

“She’s always fine on the surface,” Owen said. “I’ll get an earful later, though.”

In truth, I was glad to have him to hold on to. I felt a little woozy.

“Hey,” I said then. “Is there any chance those virgin daiquiris I just shotgunned weren’t totally virgin?”

Owen stretched up to take a look at the bar. “That’s my cousin Alex bartending at a party full of Irish, so, yeah, actually, there’s a pretty good chance.”

But the wooziness wasn’t alcohol. I knew that.

It was Owen. I was drunk on Owen. His name, his tie, the ironed, slim-fit dress shirt clinging to his pecs. His kindness. His hands on my hips.

The song was ending.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you want to get some air?”

I nodded, and he led me off the floor.

Word about us had spread like a gas fire. As we made our way back across the room, Owen got high fives and cheek slaps from his cousins, and comment after comment, like, “Nice work, buddy,” and “Better lock that up,” plus plenty of teasing, like, “Your fly’s unzipped.”

We had the exit in our sights when I caught the edge of my platform shoe and my leg went out from under me. I twisted and fell, but Owen caught me right before my knee hit. I started to say, “Thanks,” and scramble back up, but his arms locked, and he held me right there in place, my eyes even with his belt buckle.

I got my feet under me, and I was just about to push up and say, “What the hell, man?” when I heard Owen say, “Hello, Captain Murphy.”

Then I heard Murphy’s voice, like a nod. “Rookie.”

I froze.

Then, after a second—and presumably after taking in the sight of my head at Owen’s crotch, the captain went on. “Looks like you’re having a fine evening.”

“Yes, sir.”

“See you next shift.”

“Yes, sir.”

A beat, and then I felt myself hoisted up, clutched against Owen’s chest, and hustled straight into a coat closet.

The door clonked closed behind us.

“What the hell?” I said, as Owen released me, blinking my eyes in the blackness.

He sounded amazed that I would ask. “That was the captain.”

I knew that already. “I thought he RSVP’d no.”

“He did RSVP no.”

“But now we’re stuck in a closet.”

“You’re stuck,” Owen pointed out.

It was so dark, we were nothing but voices. Owen was tapping around the doorframe for a switch. “We could be in here for hours,” I said.

His voice was a little teasing. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I was mad, and the teasing made me madder. “I’m serious.”

“We’ll figure this out.”

“How?” I demanded. “You said we wouldn’t get caught!”

“We won’t!”

“Hello!” I said. “The captain just saw us!”

“But there’s no way he recognized you.”

“Why?”

“Trust me,” Owen said. “You look nothing—at all—like you do at the station.”

Was that an insult or a compliment? I frowned. “I’m recognizable, though. I’m not in a clown suit.”

“Whatever he saw out there, it wasn’t Hanwell the firefighter.”

“What did he see?”

“He saw me holding a sexy drunk girl who was all legs and hair.”

“I’m not drunk!” I blinked. “Or sexy!” Did he just call me sexy?

“That’s my point. That girl out there was the opposite of you.”

Guess not. “Thanks.”

Owen had already shifted into problem-solving mode. “There are a million ways to get you out of here. We just have to take a second to think it through.”

I didn’t want to have to solve this problem. “What was I thinking coming here?” I demanded into the darkness. “This was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”

“You were helping me out,” Owen said.

But I was just getting started. “I knew this place would be lousy with firefighters. Even if the captain wasn’t coming, there was no way we weren’t going to get caught somehow, by somebody. I knew that, but I came anyway. My captain in Austin specifically told me not to do this. Of all the ten thousand things I was not supposed to do, this—right here—was number one! But here I am, like a chump. Sabotaging everything I’ve ever worked for. I’ve never even been kissed, and now I’m going to get fired for sleeping with a rookie!”

The rookie held very still. “Wait. You’ve never been kissed?”

I gave an angry sigh. Tried to think of a way to backtrack. Then gave up. “Not properly.”