One Click Love Read online

  Published by T Gephart

  Copyright 2020 T Gephart

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  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and scenarios are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Hang Le

  Editing by Insight Editing Services

  Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics LLC

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Connect with T

  To Gayle,

  Oprah has hers and now I have mine. Never underestimate what a generous, strong, and thoughtful friend you are. I’m blessed to have you in my corner and can’t thank you enough for your kindness and support.

  Want a man who is not only hot but knows how to handle a blaze?

  Well ladies, it’s your lucky day.

  John “Mack” McPherson is 6’3” of fine with a six-pack that makes men half his age question their gym regimen. Teddy-bear brown eyes with brown hair, his graying temples let you flirt with just enough silver fox so you know you’ve got yourself a real man. But don’t let the body and face fool you, he’s incredibly smart, with medals for days and won’t think twice about putting his own life on the line to save someone else. Brave, dependable, and needing someone equally awesome, Mack is ready to be snapped up by a feisty female who isn’t scared to play with fire.

  John,

  Not sure how feisty I am now, but I’m fighting my way back. Little scares me though, and I’m not someone who breaks easily. Not interested in playing mind games, so if your idea of a good time is heading to a club where we pretend to be into the scene, then it’s probably for the best we don’t meet. I expect honesty and a half-way decent orgasm I don’t have to give myself. Other than that, open to negotiation.

  Let me know if you’re game,

  Hayden.

  Mack

  “NORTH. MY OFFICE. NOW!”

  You’d think with a wife and a kid on the way, North had better things to do than fuck with my day, but clearly I’d overestimated his ability to multi-task.

  His head snapped up from the radio he was testing, sly-ass grin he always wore beaming on his face. And any doubts he was behind my latest headache were firmly put to bed.

  “Something you need, Chief?” My problem child had the nerve to smile wider.

  Should have known it was too much to ask to celebrate my forty-fifth birthday without dealing with his shenanigans. Seriously, what the hell was I even thinking?

  “I need,” I tried to keep a lid on it, “for you to get in my office.” I pointed to the doorway I was currently standing inside and hoped he wasn’t going to make me ask again. I was already in a mood and repeating myself only made things worse.

  “No problem. Be right there.” North tossed me a wink, chuckling under his breath as he ambled slowly—couldn’t have moved slower if he fucking tried—to my office.

  I swear some days I honestly wonder where I went wrong with him.

  Riley North had come into my life just over ten years ago.

  With two shitty parents who both succumbed to injuries following a horrific drunk-driving accident, the eighteen-year-old kid found himself orphaned overnight. I’d not only been the first on the scene, but the person who’d had to knock on his door and tell him. And there was no way I could walk away from him after I saw the shithole he’d been living in, knowing he would probably end up in a body bag like his folks a few years down the line. Didn’t even think twice about it either. Just told the kid to pack whatever he wanted to keep and get into my truck. And the rest we kinda worked out as we went.

  Of course, he really tested my patience, and still did. But there was no prouder moment in my life than watching him graduate from the academy and having him serve alongside me in the FDNY. But that didn’t mean he still didn’t like to press my buttons from time to time. Case in point, the current state of affairs.

  “You just couldn’t help yourself?” I shook my head, closing the door behind us. “Couldn’t let me have just this one day in peace.”

  “C’mon, Chief. It’s your birthday! And at your age you need to celebrate every single one; never know when they’re going to run out.” His smug grin widened.

  I scrubbed my face with my hand wondering whether he was right and I really was ‘getting old’. “I swear, North, one of these days—”

  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Chiiieeeeef, happy birthday to you!” Leighton burst through the door before I could even finish yelling at Riley. And if the off-key singing wasn’t enough, in his hands was a cake straight out of my mother’s 1980’s Wilton’s Buttercream collection, and wouldn’t have been out of place in a retirement home celebrating someone named Mable’s century. With enough candles on there for Mable too—it was a wonder the smoke alarms hadn’t already gone off—those assholes either couldn’t count or had a hard-on for melted wax.

  He wasn’t alone either, the whole company was piled either beside or behind him, every single one of them wearing equally annoying grins. It seemed my request for a quiet, uneventful birthday had been totally disregarded, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it.

  Leighton lowered the cake on top of the paperwork covering my desk, increasing the chances of igniting something other than my temper. The scent of vanilla and powdered sugar competed with deodorant and chrome polish, something not entirely unpleasing except for the audience that accompanied it. Men crammed into my office, looking at me with expectation as Riley leaned in and stage-whispered, “This is the part where you make a wish and blow them out. I hear the mind is the first to go, but don’t worry, Chief, we’ve got your back.”

  I rolled my eyes, flipping him off before blowing out the stupid candles. I still wasn’t done yelling at him, but it was hard to be angry when I knew his heart was in the right place.

  “I hate all of you,” I laughed, not really sure why I hadn’t just taken the day off. “But since you’re so insistent on celebrating my big day, I expect a coffee to go with this cake.”

  “Coming right up, Chief!” Tibbs saluted, shuffling his way back to my doorway. “And happy birthday.”

  Each of the men took turns in giving me their best wishes with their own personal brand of amusement. From giving me shit for being a dinosaur and asking me if I’d fille
d in the forms for my senior discount, to inviting me out on the town when we all got off shift. I couldn’t help but smile as I shook their hands and kicked them out of my office. They might’ve been a huge pain in my ass, but I still loved the bastards.

  “Okay, so are we done with the fun and games now? Good, now go ahead and delete that fucking profile and bring me back a piece of cake.”

  Riley chuckled, leaning back against his chair as he raised an eyebrow. “What profile?”

  “Seriously? You’re too smart to act stupid, North. Just pull it down and let’s move the hell on.”

  He blinked, his smile dropping for the first time that morning as he looked at me seriously. “Chief, honestly. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Aren’t you yelling at me about the box of Depends I left in the break room?”

  “No, you moron. I’m annoyed at that stupid profile on the dating website. Look, I know it’s been a while since I divorced Melinda and—” I wasn’t able to finish, his eyes clouded in confusion as it became apparent he wasn’t that good an actor. “Shit. Where the hell is your wife?”

  Quinn North was not only the love of his life, but an equal thorn in my side. I swear the two of them treated it like sport. And while I loved her and was grateful she’d joined our little family, if there was a gold medal for interfering, she’d have a neck full of the suckers.

  Riley’s face contorted, laughing his ass off as he pulled out his phone and dialed the woman in question. Judging by his reaction, it had been a solo mission on her part. “Wow, she totally outdid me. Don’t know if I’m annoyed or proud.” He only had to wait a minute, the mother of his soon-to-be-born child answering it almost instantly. “Quinn, something you want to tell me?”

  My single status had been a recent hot topic.

  Riley had been trying to get me to date before the ink was even dry on my divorce papers, and Quinn. . . well, let’s just say pregnancy hormones had only increased her need to be in my business.

  My morning had started so uneventful.

  Got to the stationhouse around seven forty-five and sat at my desk. Ignored the pinging from my phone because it was my birthday and assumed it was just well wishes. There’d be at least a couple from my parents who had relocated to Florida and probably my younger brother, sister-in-law and my two nephews. Nothing strange about a few extra messages when you were celebrating. But when the notifications kept buzzing, I knew something else was going on.

  Never in a million years was I expecting an inbox with so many unread messages I was beginning to think some asshole had targeted me for a cyber-attack.

  Should have known better.

  Instead, what I found was notification after notification alerting me to “matches” for datemyfriend.com. Because clearly there weren’t enough dating apps on the market, a new one had been launched a few months ago with datemyfriend.com allowing “friends” to help their single buddies out by putting up a profile. Then, the victim—because there was no better word for it—had forty-eight hours to claim the profile before it and all evidence—and the account—dissolved into internet lore. Guess it was supposed to deter shitheads from setting up accounts as practical jokes. All good, right? Yeah, perfect, except until those forty-eight hours expired my only options were to sit tight and wait for the timer to run out or to claim the account and return the messages. I couldn’t delete the profile. Only the person who set it up could, unless I flagged it as harassment.

  It was tempting.

  He pulled the phone away from his ear. “She says she’s doing it for your own good and that you should at least try it. Honestly, it’s probably easier than arguing with her. When Quinn gets an idea . . .”

  There was no need to finish that sentence. I’d have better luck pissing on a forest fire than getting Quinn to change course.

  “Well, tell her in two days it ain’t going to matter.” I rolled my eyes, annoyed I was going to have to endure two more days of a flooded inbox.

  Riley laughed, passing on my sentiments before asking how she was doing, ignoring me and my mood.

  Jesus.

  More notifications, I frowned at the screen, tempted to check it out.

  What the hell had she written?

  Quinn was creative for sure, and had skills with Photoshop, but surely even then there couldn’t be more than ten to fifteen women interested in an over-forty fire chief who hated nightclubs and overpriced microbrews.

  My eyes floated to Riley, his interest still on his wife rather than me as I clicked the link which took me to the landing page. It wouldn’t hurt just to look, and unless I accepted the Ts and Cs and activated it, there’d be no harm done.

  Wow.

  Where the hell did she get those photos?

  In what I assumed would be standard, there was an array of pics Quinn had uploaded. What was unexpected, every single one of them I’d never seen before. There were a couple of photos of me in uniform, even one in my turnouts when I was running drills with the men. And some that were more candid, me in civilian clothes. But I hadn’t posed for any of them. She’d obviously been around and taken them when I wasn’t paying attention. Always knew she was a talented photographer, but it was kind of weird looking at myself through someone else’s lens.

  “Chief, you good for tomorrow night?” Riley raised an eyebrow, clear it hadn’t been the first time asking.

  Zoning out had made me miss whatever he’d said the first time, shoving the phone into my drawer as I tried to refocus. “Tomorrow night for what?”

  “Dinner. You know, for a proper celebration. You are not spending it throwing cards at Cap’s house.” The phone still pressed against his ear.

  Great.

  Because dealing with his BS on my actual birthday wasn’t enough, we had to have an encore.

  I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest. “You know what, kid. No. I know you mean well, but I think I’m going to spend my time off exactly how I want it. Besides, you might want to take some of your own advice and take Quinn out and celebrate. After the baby comes, who knows how many opportunities you’re going to get.”

  It probably would have been easier if I’d just agreed. Gone to dinner and smiled, with the probability of it being a good time fairly high. But as much as I hated disappointing people, I’d wanted zero fuss and that had yet to transpire. In fact, it had been the exact opposite. Which meant when our shift was over, I was going to do whatever the hell I wanted. And if that meant playing cards with a buddy or sitting in my condo watching cable, then so be it.

  Riley swallowed, looking surprised I’d turned him down. “Mack, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. We can keep it small.”

  “Kid, I love you.” I shook my head, shooting him a grin. “And I appreciate it, trust me. But let me have this one.” While I knew my earlier anger about the whole dating thing had dissipated—especially since I knew he wasn’t the mastermind behind it—I wasn’t willing to concede. All of his—often misguided—intentions in the world weren’t going to convince me otherwise, the chances of “a quiet dinner” turning into a sideshow still very real given the two of them.

  He nodded, knowing my chances of backing down were probably low. “Hey beautiful, let me call you back.” His call ended a second or two later, his attention solely on me. “Look, if you change your mind—”

  “Not gonna happen. Now get out of here and call her back before she freaks out.” I smirked, gesturing to his phone. “And how long does it take to get me a coffee and a piece of cake? What the hell was the point of blowing out the fucking candles if I don’t get a taste.”

  “On it, Chief.” Riley grinned, moving to the door.

  It was only after he’d left that I let my hand go back to my drawer and pulled out my phone. There was my smiling mug, reproduced more than was necessary. And assuming ladies liked what they saw—I liked to lead by example and kept myself in shape—they could scroll down and get my particulars.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

&
nbsp; Want a man who is not only hot but knows how to handle a blaze?

  Seriously? Could it be ANY more cliché? I had to wonder if Quinn was deliberately trying to make it sound like a bad porno, or women genuinely responded to that shit. Not like I was an authority.

  Well ladies, it’s your lucky day.

  John “Mack” McPherson is 6’3” of fine with a six-pack that makes men half his age question their gym regimen. Was that supposed to be a compliment? It sounded like it should be and yet . . . Teddy-bear brown eyes with brown hair, his graying temples let you flirt with just enough silver fox so you know you’ve got yourself a real man. Oh for fuck’s sake, Quinn. Teddy bear, silver fox—it was like I was an asshole with an identity crisis. I thought it was supposed to be a profile, not a fantasy novel. But don’t let the body and face fool you, he’s incredibly smart, with medals for days and won’t think twice about putting his own life on the line to save someone else. Finally, mention of my service and something I was actually proud of. Brave, dependable, and needing someone equally awesome, Mack is ready to be snapped up by a feisty female who isn’t scared to play with fire. Wait, that was it? Twenty years in the FDNY reduced to a sentence? She talked more about my abs than what I did for a living, surely that wasn’t right?

  I wasn’t sure whether to be appreciative—if not slightly embarrassed—by her favorable analysis or be mad she was making me sound like a fucking pin-up for Playgirl magazine. Not to mention she hadn’t written anything about what I actually liked to do. Knowing my luck most of my “matches” would be women I had nothing in common with. Wasn’t even going to touch her call out for a feisty female who isn’t scared to play with fire bullshit.

  Laughing to myself, I shook my head wondering why the hell I even cared what she wrote. Not like I was going to do anything about it. She could call me fucking Santa Claus and it wouldn’t make a difference, because there wasn’t a chance in hell I was meeting the woman of my dreams on a dating website.