Life Changer (Chicago First Responders Book 2) Read online

  His brow furrows, his lips twisting into a cute half-smile. “What you see is what you get with me.”

  “Just when I think I’ve got a read on you, you go and blow me away. Are you the knight in shining armor who came to my rescue when I was mugged or the guy who chases a homeless kid down and lets him go with a bed and meal arranged at a local shelter. Or, the cool single dad who gets set up with the woman he’s been watching online and barely blinks? And don’t even get me started on the awesomeness that is your son.”

  “Honestly, what you see is what you get. I’m a firefighter, a dad, and I guess your everyday average Joe,” he replies.

  “There’s nothing average about you. Believe me. Rhodes?”

  “Yeah?”

  “As long as you know that I’m looking forward to discovering everything else about you. I think I might make it my new mission.”

  “Have at it, baby. At least then we’d be even.”

  Rhodes pulls into the parking lot of the Showtime Entertainment Complex. I’d heard about this place when it first opened and always wanted to go.

  Rhodes laces his fingers with mine as we walk inside the venue, spotting Marco and Renee standing to the side waiting for us.

  Marco’s eyes drop to our joined hands, a grin covering his face by the time we reach them. “Hey, you two.”

  “Hey,” Rhodes replies, looking around. “This place is mind-blowing.”

  “Yeah. We came here a few months ago and had a blast.” Renee looks between the two of us. “And what better place to come for a double date?”

  Marco turns his warm gaze on his girlfriend. “Right. Let’s go. Our booking starts in ten minutes, which is enough time to get drinks and find our table.”

  “We’ll follow you guys.” The other couple move ahead of us and I step forward, stopping when Rhodes turns my way. I meet his eyes with curiosity.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”

  “For a first date that hasn’t even started yet, you’ve had a lot to think about.”

  I melt inside, and I let it all hang out, not hiding the fact I like his thoughtfulness, again asking myself how this man is single. “I’m good, honey.”

  He lifts his brow. “Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

  “Oh, yeah. Something to know about me—I’m a talker.”

  “Maybe Flynn can give me some pointers,” he muses.

  I struggle not to laugh as I roll my eyes. “And he’s got ex-husband jokes.”

  “He’s a bigger man than I would be.”

  “Oh really?

  “Yep. If it was me meeting the guy wanting to date my wife—knowing what a catch she is—I’d totally be a jerk.”

  My lips twitch, trying to imagine a scenario in which Rhodes Anderson would ever be an asshole. “Is that so?”

  “Hell, I want to be a possessive jerk now to the three guys I’ve already caught checking out your ass.”

  I lean in, tipping my face to his and smirking at him. “What I wanna know is why the guy I want to be ogling me isn’t doing that instead of watching others do it?”

  His brows lift, his eyes flashing with surprise. I like keeping him on his toes. Sometimes my frank honesty can be refreshing, sometimes not so much. I’m happy in this instance, Rhodes gets me.

  Rhodes quickly recovers and closes the remaining distance between us until our chests are almost touching. His spare hand is now resting on my hip, the heat of his touch making a tremble course through my body.

  “How about we make a deal, just for tonight?”

  “Okay . . .” I murmur. I might get into trouble here, but I find myself willing to do anything he might ask of me.

  “Let’s live in the moment? No pressure. No expectations. Just you, me, Marco, and Renee, hanging out with friends and enjoying ourselves. Drinks, food, and good old-fashioned fun where I will—more than likely—beat the pants off you at whatever game we play.”

  “Is that so? You think you can beat me?”

  His eyes turn molten. “Depends what we’re playing . . .”

  And damn if that doesn’t warm me from the inside.

  “C’mon, love birds. You coming or what?” Marco calls out.

  Rhodes rubs his hands together. “Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun.”

  “Well, after you teased me back at my house, I say you might be right. It’s only fair.” I shoot him an amused glance and let him go before walking away with an extra spring in my step and swaying my hips knowing he’s watching.

  The rumbling growl coming from the man behind me makes me smile.

  A chirpy, mid-twenties, hipster-looking dude approaches the four of us with a huge grin on his face. “Hey, ladies and gents. My name is Trent, and I’ll be your trusty, talented, and sometimes funny ax coach for the next hour or so.” Trent goes over the safety precautions before launching into an explanation of how the game works. “The goal is for an individual to beat their competing player or for a team to get to a certain number of points first. There are three rounds of five throws per person, but even if a winner is declared after the second round, we’ll still go ahead with the third, because who doesn’t wanna throw axes at a bullseye for fun, am I right? Although, you two boys look like you’ve chucked more than a few axes in your time.”

  We all laugh and nod our heads. Trent’s upbeat attitude is infectious, and it has me itching to give it a go.

  “Right, so I’ll be off to the side observing and I won’t intrude or step in unless someone asks or I have to. But first, let me demonstrate how to hold and throw this auspicious little wood chopper.” He grabs an ax from the holder and twirls it in his hands before holding it up in front of him. “Dominant hand on top, the other one below, then all you gotta do is face the target . . .” He turns around and steps to the edge of the throwing lane, looking back over his shoulder at us. “Then you lift it over your head like this, and it’s a case of rocking your hips forward and sticking your butt out, using your body to catapult the ax forward, and hopefully lodging the blade in the target.”

  God, he makes it sound and look easy. Lucky I’ve never been afraid to make a fool out of myself in the name of having fun.

  Marco and Renee stand back and let us go before them.

  The first ax I pitch down the lane spins end over end before hitting the target with the metal butt. It drops to the floor like a lead balloon and I huff out a frustrated breath. “This is a lot harder than it looks.”

  Rhodes appears beside me, shooting me a hot-as-hell smirk. “If it helps, I did the same thing my first time?”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course, you did. And let me guess—you’re about to tell me you are classed as an expert-level ax-thrower now?”

  He chuckles behind me as I walk toward the target and bend over, taking my time to reach out and slowly pick up the ax. A quick check over my shoulder confirms what I’d expected to see—Rhodes’s eyes pinned to my butt. Maybe distracting him is the key to winning this damn game. And if that doesn’t work, at least we’ll have fun flirting while he kicks my ass. With a little wiggle of said derriere, I straighten and make my way back to my date, dragging my gaze up his body without shame and flattening my hand on his shoulder when I reach his side. “You're up, honey. Maybe you can show me how good you are at this game.”

  His attention drops to my lips then up again and damn, just the heat in his eyes has my body sparking to life. How does he manage to do that to me with just a look? I keep wanting to grab his face and kiss the hell out of him.

  “What game is this again?” he asks, his deep, hoarse tone making my knees weak.

  “Why, ax-throwing, of course,” I say innocently as I flex my fingers against his shirt. “It is our first date, after all. And unlike some people, I’d never tease anyone without knowing I was prepared to follow through. That would be kinda cruel, don’t ya think?

  Rhodes shakes his head slowly, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Oh, we’re playing now, sweet c
heeks.”

  My brows jump up and I grin. “Sweet cheeks?” I lean in, bringing my face so close that his heavy breath washes over my skin. “But how will you ever find out how sweet my cheeks can be if you don’t win . . .?” I blow him an air kiss and walk to the table where Marco and Renee are standing.

  Renee is beaming, and Marco’s head is dropped, but there’s no missing his smirk. “You right there, brother?” he calls out to my date, grabbing an ax from the rack outside the throwing area.

  “Yeah . . .” Rhodes answers rough and low before clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder at us girls, his eyes locking on mine. “If we didn't need to win before, we need to now. I’m finding myself somewhat . . . motivated.”

  I can’t help but snicker.

  “Now I need to know,” Renee says, leaning onto the table and turning her body toward me. “Because I was already thinking of making this interesting. I mean, girls versus boys seems fair. Unless you want to pair up with Rhodes. it is a date, after all.”

  “Oh no. It definitely needs to be a battle of the sexes.”

  “Awesome. At least then I can have a little fun with Marco. They may be the boss men at work but believe me. You’ve gotta make sure things are equal at home.” Renee waggles her eyebrows.

  “I can hear you, princess,” Marco says, not looking back.

  She winks at me. “I know, Lieutenant. Why do you think I said it?”

  Rhodes grips the handle, one hand slightly higher than the other, planting his left foot in front of his right in the ‘expert’ stance our games ax coach showed us. Then he lifts the ax and throws it at the target, a sigh escaping my lips as I admire his flexing arm muscles

  “Girl . . .” Renee says, holding her fist out in front of me and bumping her knuckles with mine. “You get your eye candy, and I get mine. This double date thing is the best. Idea. Ever.”

  Between rounds two and three—with the score being one win apiece, girls vs boys—Marco and Renee head over to ‘Food Truck Alley’ on the far side of the warehouse to get us some snacks, leaving Rhodes and I alone with newly fetched drinks in hand.

  “Having fun?” he asks.

  My mind is a little distracted by his leg brushing against mine. So far, this game of ours has morphed into a challenge to see who can drive their date crazier. Accidental touches, soft hands resting on arms, shoulders, hips, the small of my back—anything and everything decently possible to distract one another.

  And by god is Rhodes good at the art of distraction.

  “Yeah, I am. It helps that Renee’s damn good at this ax-throwing thing. Otherwise, it would’ve been a thrashing by now.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You seem to be getting better.”

  I snort at his massive overstatement. “If by getting better you mean hitting the target once in that last round.”

  “Definitely better,” he says, his lips curving up into a wicked grin.

  “At least I don’t mind being beaten when I like the view of my opponent.”

  Rhodes chuckles. “I’ll make sure to tell Marco you think so.”

  Rolling my eyes, I giggle and nudge him with my elbow. “Take a compliment, Rhodes.”

  “I’ll take anything from you, sweet cheeks.”

  “How about dinner this week then? I still owe you that thank-you meal, and I’d love to cook for you.”

  His gaze goes soft. “And a restaurant full of other diners?”

  I lean in and drop my voice to a whisper. “You see, the perks of being the boss is that I can delegate and use the kitchen I have for filming in for private guests.”

  Rhodes’s brow arches. “You entertain a lot of private guests?”

  “Not so far. Only Harvey and my parents, and now, hopefully, you . . .”

  “I’d be honored then,” he replies, reaching over and placing his hand in mine. “My shifts probably don’t fit in well with you this week though. I’m working tomorrow, then Tuesday and Wednesday I’m off. Thursday—work, and Friday and Saturday I’m free.”

  I purse my lips. “Why wouldn’t they work for me? I have staff. My kitchen runs like a well-oiled machine. I’ll let my restaurant manager, Suzy, know that I’ll be there but not be there. I’ve been looking forward to feeding you since we first met.”

  His brows jump up. “You have?”

  “Oh yeah. I use my food to express myself.”

  Rhodes leans in, his leg pressing firmly against the length of mine now. “I think you’re expressing yourself just fine so far. It helps that you uploaded a new video today with ‘How to Win Your Date Over One Meal at a Time.’”

  I wink at him, my smile widening. “Glad you liked it. Let’s say dinner next Monday, that would be your day off, right?”

  The smile he gifts me is so big it’s blinding. “I’d love to.”

  “Now. . .” My lips twitch. “We haven’t discussed what the prize is when I beat you at this game.”

  Rhodes’s eyes roam my face, pausing on my lips before lifting to mine. He shoots me a slow-growing smirk. “Winner’s choice,” he murmurs, and the rough rasp of his tone has my thighs clenching together out of instinct alone.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “I’ve got my eyes on the prize, sweet cheeks,” he says, not looking away from me—even when Marco and Renee slide a couple’s platter of bar snacks on the table in front of us.

  Rhodes proves his point by stepping up for his final throw, and with his eyes locked on mine, he heaves the ax over his shoulder, scoring a bullseye and making my heart race and soar simultaneously.

  After a great evening, we bid farewell to Marco and Renee. And with Rhodes’s hand in mine—something I find he likes to do a lot—we make our way into the parking lot.

  When we reach his car, he unlocks the doors and lets me go. Then without a word, he’s facing me and slowly pressing my back against the car.

  I slide my arms around his waist and rest my palms on his shoulder blades. “You finally going to claim your prize?” I whisper, sounding like a wanton woman ready to mount her man. It’s not like I’d say no, but nothing between us feels the slightest bit casual. And at this stage in both of our lives, I’d hazard a guess that after waiting this long, Rhodes isn’t about to screw around just to get laid. Lord knows it’s not worth adding sex onto my already full plate unless it comes with all the benefits of a committed relationship as well.

  He braces his forearm on the door above my head, bringing every inch of his hard body flush against mine. He’s toned, but he’s also got shape. Fit, but without angles that’ll poke an eye out.

  “If I had my way, I would’ve been kissing you all night. Every time you licked your lips or smirked at me, I wanted to sink my teeth in and steal a taste.”

  As if punctuating his point—or simply taking his time to play with his winnings—he runs his palm up my side, grazing the side of my bust, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His hand slides to my neck before cradling my jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing the edge of my mouth.

  A whimper escapes my lips, and his eyes flash molten and hot, ready to burn me alive.

  Holy God. Bucket needed in the parking lot. A woman is about to spontaneously combust here.

  We stay there staring, our breaths shallow and fast, our hearts racing in sync with the other, our bodies touching chest to thigh and every delicious inch throbbing incessantly between us. It’s like time stands still. The world is revolving around us, yet we’re still here stuck in an augmented reality, waiting for that final push to take what we want.

  “Please,” I whisper, and his resistance snaps. He gives me his weight, his hands clutching my head, holding me in place, tilt my chin up. Locking our eyes together, he ever so slowly lowers his mouth toward mine—the wait to feel his lips on mine so exquisitely painful. I can’t take it anymore, and I grip the back of his head at the same time I surge forward, and we crash together in a tangle of mouths and lips and tongues and teeth.

  It’s not soft and slow. It’
s hard and fast, desperate, and completely honest. I want to dance in the rain and offer thanks to the universe above. There’s no pretense, no pretending. This isn’t a precursor to get me into bed. This is the pent-up passion that has been building all night—if not all week.

  My nails bite into his scalp as he rolls his hips against mine and groans as he plunges deeper, his tongue exploring my mouth, tasting me and making me moan. It’s seven at night, and we’re making out against his car—in a parking lot, no less—and it’s still as hot as it was when I used to do it as a teenager.

  As far as memorable first kisses go, this has jumped straight to the top of the list. Bar none.

  Desperately needing air, I suck in a breath when Rhodes tears his lips from mine. “Damn, sweet cheeks. You can kiss.”

  “Believe me, you’re the master of anticipation. You made me nearly jump you.”

  “I like to delay gratification. What can I say?”

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. I may like to win, but if that’s my reward for losing, I’m winning regardless.”

  His eyes sparkle with amusement as he grins down at me. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a fuck of a long time.”

  “And now that you have?” I ask, resting my hands right over his racing heart and looking up at him.

  He runs a finger down my cheek, his big hand cupping my jaw. “Now, I’m gonna be doing it a hell of a lot more often.”

  “Promise?”

  He laughs as he brushes his lips against mine once more. “It’s a god damn guarantee.”

  Chapter 9

  Rhodes

  After a crazy, busy week, Jake and I meet up with Marco, Gio, and Luca—the other Rossi brother—for a run around the Busse Woods Trails. It’s all for a good cause though, because in five months, we’re all running in the annual Ovarian Cancer Charity Run—something we’ve done for the past four years. At first, Jake and I did it to honor Lily’s memory and help others battle the horrible disease that took her from us. Now it’s a way to memorialize her and help raise money that can go toward one day finding a cure, so that no one else has to be lost.