Free Crash Lights and Sirens, Book 1 by Unknown Page A

flush, a deeper pink flooding her cold-rosy cheeks. “Oh yeah?” she asks, and it sounds like a playground challenge.
    “Yeah.” Nick unlocks the cab and they both climb in, breath visible in the icy air. He cranks the heat and holds his hand out for his roast beef. Then, because she’s still looking at him and he doesn’t know what it means, “Do you want me to take you on a date?”
    Taryn exhales noisily, not saying anything for a moment. She looks put out by the question. “Listen,” she tells him, pulling one leg up underneath her and fussing with the white deli paper on her sandwich. Her gaze is somewhere in the neighborhood of the gearshift. “You know I just got out of—”
    “I know.” Nick holds his hand up to stop her. The last thing he wants is an I’m not ready for a relationship right now speech from a twenty-four-year-old, especially Falvey. Fuck, he practically wrote that speech himself. “It’s fine.”
    Taryn nods, opening her bag of chips and fishing one out without looking at him. Nick takes a bite of his sandwich and tries to figure out why he’s annoyed.
    “We could hang out,” she says as a follow-up.
    That gets his attention. “Yeah?”
    “Yeah.” Taryn makes a face like it’s no big deal, like it’s a whole different universe from him buying her dinner. “Watch basketball, I don’t know.”
    This girl. Nick reaches down for his water bottle. “You wanna come over and watch basketball?”
    “Maybe. It’s just an example!” she protests when he keeps staring at her, but she’s smiling now, sheepish. Her eyes are gray today, the same pale color as the sky. “Is that weird though?”
    “You wanting to come over and check out the Celtics?” he asks. Is this a date, Jesus fucking Christ. “I mean, a little.”
    “Shut up,” she says. “Not that.” Then, off his blank expression: “Lynette told me, okay? About your house, and your—” Taryn stops, shrugging aggressively.
    Ah. That kind of weird. Nick chews through another bite while he thinks over his answer. “Lyn does like telling that story,” is what he finally settles on, nudging the cookie over to Falvey’s side of the dashboard. She’s nothing like Maddie, looks or personality, anything about her at all. When they first met, Nick thought she wasn’t his type. “We could do it anyway,” he tells her, watching carefully. “Hang out.”
    “Yeah?” Taryn crunches another chip, watching him right back. “Even if it’s weird?”
    Nick thinks about that one for a second, how there are probably better prospects for a casual sex partner than someone he works with every day. He wants her though, Falvey, with her bright hair and that sharp-serious face, the palest nipples he’s ever seen on a person. Wants her now, actually. Which is ridiculous—they’re on the job, for starters, dispatch burbling away about an accident near Great Barrington and the bulky winter uniform obscuring the lines of her body. Still, it would be easy for Nick to tip back her head and just— “Even if it’s weird,” he confirms.
    Taryn lights up like Christmas morning, taking a huge bite out of her pickle. “Cool,” she says, mouth full.
    Cool. Nick smirks.
    They get one more call after that, a suspected overdose in a triple-decker down the far end of town, all the abandoned row houses. When they show up, a bunch of shiftless-looking kids are crowded along the stacked porch, open cans everywhere. One of them waves at Taryn as they press through to the door.
    “Know him?” Nick asks, glancing over his shoulder at the greasy hair and too-small beanie.
    Falvey shrugs, unslinging her pack as a girl holding a busted-up cell phone points them toward her friend. “Used to hang around my brother when they were kids.”
    Nick studies their patient, rolled-back eyes and vomit all down the front of her grimy hoodie. Christ, three o’clock on a Friday, and this is what they’re dealing with? “Hope they aren’t buds anymore,” he