Chapter One

“Hey, Lexi, there’s a super-hot firefighter out in the hallway who says he needs to see you.”

Lexi Martin looked up from her mountainous to-do pile. The paperwork never ended for the assistant director of the Denver Youth Center—or DYC for short, as all the kids called it…pronouncing it so it sounded like a part of the male anatomy because, well, teenagers.

But in addition to the red tape, grant applications, and a host of other annoying bureaucratic headaches she had to deal with, Lexi also got to work with kids, offer them a safe space for a few hours of the day, provide homework assistance, recreation fun, and overall, show them that somebody out there cared for them.

It was the very best part of her job.

“A hot firefighter?” she asked Zoe as the woman closed her office door.

The twenty-two-year-old college intern lifted one hand to fan herself. “Five-alarm-fire hot! I would risk arson charges and set a blaze in my bedroom to have this man come put it out hot!”

She laughed. “No you wouldn’t.”

Zoe was a stickler for the rules and a certified angel. Lexi would be lost without her. She dreaded the day when Zoe’s internship was over and the younger woman left for better opportunities.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t, but I might stick your cat up in a tree and give him a call.”

“Lucifer would scratch your eyes out and you know it.”

“True.” Zoe shuddered. “Your cat is adorable, but a bit of a prick.”

He was just living up to his name. Not that she had given it to him—it came with him when she picked him up from the shelter three years ago. One look at those sweet little green-and-blue eyes and she’d been hooked. The shelter tried to warn her the cat had what they called “behavior issues,” but Lucifer just needed someone to show him love. Something Lexi excelled at.

She didn’t believe animals or kids were bad. That was nonsense spewed by people who didn’t want to take the time to understand the pain underneath the lashing out. Lexi believed everyone had a chance to be saved, a chance to change. All they needed was someone who cared.

“Anyway,” Zoe continued, “I don’t think this guy would rescue a cat anyway. He’s too hot to be a real firefighter. Looks too polished, ya know?”

No, she didn’t. Were real firefighters supposed to be grubby-looking?

Zoe took a few steps closer to Lexi’s desk and spoke in a hushed tone. “I think someone sent you a strip-o-gram.”

A strip-o-gram? Wasn’t that only used for bachelorette parties?

“Your birthday is tomorrow, right?”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

No one wanted to be reminded that in less than a day they would be turning twenty-eight and all they had to show for it was a massive pile of student loan debt, a crappy two-bedroom apartment they shared with a roommate, a nonexistent social life, and a cat as the closest thing to a life partner.

At least Lucifer gave her the occasional snuggle and didn’t run up a buttload of credit card debt in her name, then ghost her like her last disaster of a boyfriend. Men sucked, full stop—give her a cat companion any day.

“Who would have sent me a strip-o-gram?”

Zoe shrugged. “Jordan?”

Probably. Sounded like something her outrageous roomie would do. He was always pushing her out of her comfort zone, but in a good way. Making her try new things, opening her eyes to new experiences, but he did usually keep the adventures to after work hours.

Still…he had said this morning that he and his boyfriend, Angel, sent her a special birthday surprise to start her workday. She had figured it was probably going to be one of those fruit bouquets she loved so much but could never afford to indulge in.

Could they really have sent her a strip-o-gram?

She glanced at the clock. Technically the center didn’t open for the kids for another twenty minutes. Maybe Jordan had sent her a little start-her-Friday-off-right fun. She didn’t know if she should be horrified or grateful.

“Well?” Zoe asked, dark eyebrows lifting high on her forehead.

She couldn’t very well send the man away, not when he might have been paid for a job. And none of the kids were here yet, her office had blinds, so…

“Send him in, I guess.”

Zoe gave a little hop and excited squeal. “On it! I’m so going to peek from the window.”

“Don’t get too excited—he might not be a stripper.”

But the second Zoe returned to deliver Hottie McFirefighter, Lexi changed her tune. This man had to be a stripper, or model, or Greek God in disguise. Holy cow! Five-alarm fire didn’t do the guy justice. He was more of an explosive volcano of sexiness.

“Ma’am, I’m here to check you for fire issues,” Hottie said.

Yup. Definitely a stripper.

Kudos to Jordan for the best birthday surprise ever.

Lexi’s gaze greedily took him in, from the top of his closely cropped sandy blond hair, to his gorgeous hazel eyes, down to the sharp, square jaw softened by a pair of full lips that should be illegal on any man. He was tall, though not overly so. But he definitely had the muscular build of a man who did a lot of hard labor—or took off his clothes for a living.

He wasn’t dressed in typical firefighter gear, which was a bit disappointing, but she supposed that kind of stuff was hard to strip off. Instead, he was wearing a tight-fitting dark-blue polo shirt that had the words Denver FD stitched on the high chest pocket and a pair of pressed khakis. In his hand he held some kind of clipboard. A prop maybe?

All in all, the man looked scrumptious.

“I’m going to owe Jordan an entire month’s rent for this present.”

The man’s right eyebrow quirked. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” Lexi shook her head. “Go ahead and do your thing. Do you have music you need to play or something?”

The man looked even more confused as the words poured from her lips. “Why would I need to play music?” he asked.

“For…you know, for the stripping?” She practically whispered the last word, feeling her cheeks heat. Did he do it silently? That sounded weird and a little creepy. The music was half the fun.

Now both eyebrows climbed high. “Stripping?”

“I’m sorry.” She winced. “Is ‘male dancer’ the preferred term? I’ve never gotten one of these before. Am I supposed to pretend you’re a real firefighter, get all concerned I might have a fire code violation?” She winked.

He stared at her like she’d grown another head. “Ma’am. I’m here to check you for fire issues,” he repeated.

“Oh, there’s gonna be a fire issue, all right,” she said, getting into it. “As soon as you strip off those pants and get to the show, my panties might just burst into flames.” A giggle left her. She felt so naughty, so unlike herself, flirting with the man in front of her.

She had to hand it to her roomie, he sure knew how to break her out of her shell. Jordan would be so proud if he could see her now.

The man’s jaw dropped wide. He held up a hand. “I think there’s been a terrible mistake here. Who do you think I am?”

“A-Aren’t you a strip-o-gram? It’s my birthday tomorrow, and my roommate…” Lexi trailed off as the man’s expression remained confused and slightly horrified. Heat burned her cheeks, flaming down her body. “You’re…um, you’re not a strip-o-gram, are you?”

Mr. 100-Percent-Not-A-Strip-O-Gram dipped his head, but not before she caught the smile curling his lips. Well, at least someone thought it was funny.

She was currently wishing the ground would open her up and swallow her whole.

“Not a lot of sinkhole activity in this area, so that’s not a high probability,” he said with a small chuckle, letting her know she had spoken out loud.

Perfect. Just perfect.

With a loud groan, she plunked her head down on her desk, cheeks still fully aflame. Would the embarrassment ever die down? Probably not until her next birthday. Whatever this man was here for, she had to deal with it, now, and apologize.

With a deep, fortifying breath, Lexi lifted her head. Somehow, she managed to put her embarrassment away and find a professional smile. “I apologize for my assumption, sir. I’m Lexi Martin, assistant director of the Denver Youth Center. How can I help you?”

“Dyson O’Neil.” He dipped his chin in greeting. “And I’m here to help you. I’m here for the center’s annual fire safety inspection.”

Inspection? But that was… She swiveled in her chair to glance at the large wall calendar where she kept track of all the center’s important events and meetings.

“Sorry, I’m a bit early,” Dyson apologized. “I had a teacher once who told me if you weren’t ten minutes early, you were ten minutes late.”

She’d had one of those, too, but according to the calendar, and her watch, Dyson wasn’t ten minutes early; he was half an hour early. And how the hell had she forgotten he was coming today? It would have saved her a boatload of embarrassment if she just would have remembered about the inspection when Zoe mentioned the hot firefighter. Now she’d gone and made an ass of herself.

“Of course, not a problem. It’ll be easier to work without the kids here anyway. Come with me and I’ll show you around.” Great, and now she was babbling.

Pushing out from her desk, she stood and came around to stand in front of Dyson.

Mistake.

The man was even sexier up close. She could see the small freckle on his upper left cheek, just below those gorgeous eyes. Not a hint of stubble, indicating he’d either shaved very recently or was one of those people who didn’t have his hair grow back two seconds after the blade left his skin. He really did look like he’d just stepped off the pages of a magazine.

Could she blame herself for thinking he was a strip-o-gram with those sensual looks?

“I assure you, ma’am, I’m not a stripper, just here for the inspection.”

Crap! She’d used her internal voice externally again. It happened when she got nervous, and Dyson made her very nervous. Mostly because she kept thinking about all the completely inappropriate things she wanted to do to him…and with him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. O’Neil—”

“Dyson,” he said with a small smile. “You can call me Dyson.”

“Thank you, Dyson.” Grateful he seemed to be taking her missteps in stride, she smiled back. “And you can call me Lexi.”

“Okay, Lexi, shall we get to the inspection?”

Please, before she said anything to dig herself deeper into the hole of humiliation.

Opening her office door, she motioned to Dyson, enjoying the view as he moved past her into the hallway. The man had a delicious ass. Oops! Hopefully she hadn’t said that out loud. A quick glance up revealed Dyson focused intently on the clipboard in his hand. Oh good, either she hadn’t, or he was being polite and not saying anything.

She led Dyson around the entire facility, ending back in the hallway right outside her office door, her nerves rising with each “hmmmm” and scribble he made. He was writing down a lot. Was that good or bad? She couldn’t tell.

He let out a heavy sigh. Oh no. Sighs like that were never good.

“Bad news?” She crossed her fingers and toes inside her five-year-old outlet mall sneakers for extra good luck.

“I’m afraid so.” He nodded, bringing up the clipboard he’d been writing on for the past half hour. “Unfortunately, you have some serious violations here that need to be addressed.”

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

“What kind of issues?” Please don’t be expensive ones. The center was running on fumes as it was. They couldn’t afford any big repairs.

“You have fire detectors with failing batteries, and two don’t even have any batteries in them.”

Shoot! One of the kids must have borrowed them and forgotten to replace them again. It happened. She told them all if they needed batteries to come to her and she’d do her best to help. Unfortunately, a lot of her kids didn’t have the means or access to things like that.

He continued down his list. “You have exposed wire in a back room—”

“The kids aren’t allowed in there,” she explained. “We only use it for overflow storage.”

“Be that as it may, it’s still a fire hazard. You have no lighted exit signs, and your fire extinguishers are way past their expiration date.”

The news kept getting worse and worse. Those things weren’t super expensive, but again, shoestring budget stretched thin enough as it was.

“You have at least three major violations and half a dozen minor ones.” He tore off the top sheet of paper and handed it to her. “You’ll need to get these all fixed within the month.”

“A month!” Her jaw fell open. A month to fix…she glanced down at the paper, little boxes checked where the center had failed to pass inspection with notes on how to fix the problems. Okay, some of these were easy fixes like the batteries in the fire detectors, but others… “How am I supposed to get all this done within a month?”

“Do you need the number of a contractor? I have a few great references.”

“Only if they work for free,” she grumbled, because that’s all the center could afford.

“I’m not sure any of them do pro bono work,” Dyson said with a slight grimace.

“I know, I wouldn’t expect them to,” she said, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. Just wishful thinking on her part.

First, she mistook the safety inspector for a stripper, and now the center was in code violations she knew they couldn’t afford to fix. Could today get any worse? She was two seconds away from drowning this horrible day in a pint of cherry-berry-tastic ice cream.

“I’m sure I can get these repairs done myself,” she said hopefully. Duct tape fixed everything, right?

Dyson frowned. “I wouldn’t recommend that, ma’am.”

Ma’am? She blinked at his stern tone. What happened to Lexi?

“Some of this work requires the skills of a professional.”

What did he expect her to do? Pull a free contractor out of thin air?

“I understand that,” she said, “but the center can’t afford these repairs right now.”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to fail the inspection.”

“But the center could close!” How could he do that to them? Didn’t he realize the kids needed this place? How could he be so heartless?

“I understand, but rules are rules. They’re there for a reason. For safety’s sake and—”

“Ms. Martin, the basketballs are deflated again.”

Lexi glanced down the hall to see Mateo standing a few feet away. The tall, lanky sixteen-year-old had been coming to the center almost every day for about six months now. He was a good kid, smart, kind, but closed off, as most of these kids were, due to crappy circumstance and society’s failure to protect them.

Shoving down the absolute heartbreak of the possibility of the DYC closing, she pasted a smile on her face and addressed the young teen. “The pump is in the equipment closet, Mateo. Zoe has the keys.”

Zoe also must have let the kids in. Lexi glanced at the clock on the wall to see it was indeed fifteen minutes past doors open. Huh, time flew when you were receiving terrible news.

“Okay…” The young teen’s eyes narrowed on Dyson. “Is, um, everything okay?”

Poor sweet boy, so suspicious of everything and everyone. Took her weeks to crack his tough shell enough to get Mateo to trust her even the smallest amount. Not that she blamed the kid. He had his reasons.

“Everything is fine; Dyson here is just performing our annual fire code inspection. Need to make sure we’re keeping all you kids safe and the center is up to code.”

“Will they shut it down if it’s not?”

Oh dear. Her heart clenched, the slight tremble in his voice killing her. She knew how much this place meant to Mateo, to all the kids who needed a safe haven. It couldn’t get shut down. Didn’t Dyson see that? Or was a “dependable space for kids to go” not on the fancy checklist on his clipboard? She knew rules were in place for a reason, but sometimes they needed to be bent a little.

“Don’t you worry about that.” She gave him a soft smile. “Now, go find Zoe and pump up those basketballs for me, please, would you?”

“Yeah, sure.” His eyes shifted back and forth between Lexi and Dyson, the doubt in them evident. “No problem, Ms. Martin.”

Once Mateo was gone, she turned back to face Dyson. He was staring after the teen with a look of…familiarity in his eyes. Like he knew what the kid was going through. And maybe he did; how would she know? Aside from calling the man a stripper and now knowing he was an actual firefighter—with a bit of a stick up his butt when it came to the rules—she knew nothing about the guy.

“Seems like a good kid,” Dyson muttered.

“He is. In fact, they all are.” She believed that with every fiber of her being. “That’s why this center needs to stay open. These kids depend on it. I know we have to get these violations fixed, but the budget is kind of in the red at the moment and—”

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” She blinked, his declaration not computing in her harried brain.

“I can help fix up all the code issues.” That soft hazel gaze came back to her. “My dad was an electrician. I used to help him out on jobs before… Anyway, I know what needs to be done to get this place up to code.”

That was very kind of him, especially after he’d just informed her he would need to fail them, but, “As I said, we don’t really have the money to hire—”

“The department gives us Kelley days.”

“What’s a Kelley day?”

“It’s a mandatory paid day off. A lot of us use it for volunteer work in the community.”

Wow, that was pretty amazing. Of course, she supposed to be a firefighter, running into burning buildings to save perfect strangers, it took a special kind of person, a giving and caring one. And Dyson wanted to use his volunteer time to help out the center. Shame burned her gut, and she was really glad she hadn’t said out loud any of the unkind thoughts she’d just had about the man.

“I suppose I should try and go with the polite ‘oh no, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that’ refusal, but I’m not going to.” She winced, pained to admit it. “The center could really use any help it’s offered.”

Nonprofits ran on a wish and the kindness of others. She would never turn down free help when generously given.

“Happy to offer.” His attention wandered to where Mateo had disappeared before turning back to her. “I can drop by Wednesday if that works.”

“Yes, um, I’m here starting at nine and we open for the kids at two.” Weekends they were open all day, but weekdays they didn’t open until school let out.

“I’ll drop by around nine thirty?”

“Perfect. And thank you so much, Dyson.”

He nodded and turned to leave. She should have let it end there. Should have kept her mouth shut, but instead she found herself opening up and shouting after him, “And I’m sorry again about the whole stripper thing.”

He glanced over his shoulder with a small smile. “No worries. I take it as a compliment. My buddy in college was a stripper—guy had more talent and skill than I could ever imagine. He tried to get me a job once, but I have two left feet and ended up tripping over my tearaway pants and falling onto the table of drinks. Spilled jungle punch everywhere. The maid of honor was pissed because her parents had just redone the carpet in the pool house.”

Sexy, sweet, generous, and told his own embarrassing story to help her save face. Dyson was too good to be true. He had to be a secret serial killer or something.

Either that or he was a dog person. That would be just her luck. Lucifer hated dogs more than he hated baths and her cat really, really hated baths.

“See you Wednesday, Lexi.” Dyson turned, waving over his head as he went down the hallway and left the building.

“Guess he wasn’t a strip-o-gram.” Zoe’s voice sounded from behind Lexi. “Too bad.”

Yes and no. She hadn’t gotten a special birthday surprise, but they had gotten free labor to fix some desperately needed issues at the center. She might not have gotten a glimpse of that scrumptious-looking body, but she had seen a glimpse of his generous heart, and damn if they both didn’t look deliciously tempting.

“You got a delivery,” Zoe said. “Put it on your desk.”

As Zoe headed off to check on the kids, Lexi opened the door to her office where she saw, sitting directly in the middle of her desk, a caramel-dipped fruit bouquet complete with a card that read; Happy Birthday, Lex! Love, Jordan and Angel.

She choked on a laugh, wishing her BFF’s gift had come just a few minutes earlier. It certainly would have saved her from the most embarrassing situation of her life.

…

She was still chuckling when she arrived back at her apartment after work. The moment she opened the door, Lucifer head-butted her leg. She bent down to scoop her cat into her arms, nuzzling the soft black fur on his head.

“Hello, baby. Did you have a good day?”

She got a small yowl and a tiny nip for her affection before he leaped from her arms and sauntered away to his cat bed in the corner of the living room.

Ornery cat. She loved him, though.

“What’s got you shining like a sunbeam in July? Did you get the present?”

“Yes, thank you! It was delicious.”

Lexi’s grin widened as she spied her roommate, Jordan, and Angel cooking away in the kitchen. “A sexy new helper at the center and I don’t have to make dinner. Win-win for me today.”

“What sexy new helper at the center?” Jordan asked. “Did you get a new intern?”

“No, Dyson is definitely not a college intern.” She sighed, remembering how tightly his T-shirt had clung to his muscled arms. Dyson was all grown up in the most delicious way.

Jordan wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and moved from the small space to stand in front of her. A frown marred his dark-brown forehead, and he ran a hand over his shaved head.

“Lex. You remember our bet.”

For cripes sake, she hadn’t even put her purse down yet.

Tossing the small bag on the ground and slipping her shoes off, she moved around her best friend. Heading into the kitchen, she leaned over Angel’s shoulder to see what he was cooking. She had no idea what the contents of the pot were, but heavenly spicy smells surrounded her as she took a deep breath.

“Angel, I love you. What is that amazing dish you’re making?”

The dark-haired man gave a small laugh. “Green chili veggie stew, and don’t think you’re getting out of answering Jordan’s question.”

Damn, they were both against her tonight.

“Leeeeeexi.”

Jordan dragged out her name as if it had seven syllables instead of two. With a heavy sigh, she turned, cocking her hip and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes, I remember the bet.” An utterly ridiculous bet made a month ago after a painful breakup and way too much wine. “No dating for six months.”

Jordan nodded, but his smug smile burrowed under her skin a bit. Lifting a hand, she pointed at him.

“You said no dating—we never agreed I couldn’t look.”

Especially at a man as fine as Dyson. A man so sexy, she’d confused him with a strip-o-gram.

“You did what?” both Jordan and Angel asked at the same time.

Welp, her big mouth had done it. Might as well lay it all out.

She explained to the men about mistaking Dyson for a birthday present from Jordan, the following embarrassment when she realized who he really was, and his generous offer to help the center. By the end of her story, both of them were holding back laughter.

Angel more politely than Jordan.

“Lex, you know I love messing with you, but I would never send a strip-o-gram to your place of work.” Jordan’s laughter dimmed. “So there’s nothing going on with this guy, right?”

Nothing but him helping her fix the center.

She shook her head. “Nothing. Don’t get your hopes up. I am not losing the bet.” Crossing her arms, she grumbled under her breath, “I don’t even know why we made it in the first place.”

“Yes, you do,” Jordan insisted. He stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We talked about this. You give too much of yourself. To everyone. You need some time to focus on you and what you deserve.”

A common refrain her friends had been telling her for years. She compromised too much in her relationships, which was why they never worked out in the end. After her last heartbreak, her bestie made her promise she’d take six months to focus on her or face the penalty of cleaning the entire apartment while dressed as her greatest fear…a clown.

She shuddered at the thought. Not only did she hate cleaning—and clowns—but she knew Jordan would film the winnings and post it to social media. She worked with teens: their entire life was social media. If she lost the bet and a video of it got posted, she’d be hearing about it for months from her kids. She’d never live it down.

No. She could not afford to lose this bet.

And truthfully, she was tired of being walked all over by the guys she dated. Not all of them meant to do it, but it happened regardless, and she had to admit the truth that she often allowed it to. She wanted to win the bet for herself, too. And so far, not dating had been fairly easy.

Until today.

Dyson was temptation personified.

“I’m not going to date the man who’s helping at the center,” she assured her best friend. “He’s not even my type. So don’t go shopping for a size-small clown costume just yet. We may need one in your size after all.”

Jordan gave her a hard look but nodded.

“Well, now that that’s settled, let’s eat,” Angel said. “Babe, get the bowls, please.”

“On it.” Jordan gave his boyfriend a kiss, opening the cupboard and grabbing some bowls.

Dinner did smell delicious, but all Lexi wanted to take a bite of was a certain sexy firefighter. But her friend was right. She needed to focus on herself and what she needed. As horrifying as the bet was, it was made with good intentions, and she planned to follow it through. She was so used to giving to everyone: the center, her friends, her boyfriends. It was time for Lexi to put herself first and get what she wanted.

If only she knew what that was.

…

Click HERE to keep reading The Dating Dilemma by Mariah Ankenman.