The Best Bad Decision: Bad Decisions, #1

By Garnet Davenport

Mel: Why me? Because why not.

That's what I think as the "small" bonfire grows as the firetrucks speed through my neighborhood. Thank goodness there was no real harm done... at least that's what I think until the hot, muscular firefighter keeps popping up in my life-- and in my kids' lives. This has to be the best bad decision ever.

Caleb: Is this my life now?

Some beautifully crazy woman turns in a complaint saying I was rude when all I was doing was informing her that having a fire extinguisher nearby is the best precaution you can have.

Too bad she keeps showing up in my life. Her kids are amazing and her ex is an @ss. What am I supposed to do if all I can do is think about this woman and being part of her family? This has to be the best bad decision of my life. 

Warning: 18+ and as always a HEA

Sensitivity Warning: This book contains conversations that contain language that may represent an emotionally abusive relationship to a peripheral character while in a past relationship before the story began. If this is not your cup of tea please skip ahead to Josie's Secret Dating Life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Garnet Davenport
• Release date: Jul 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393075929

Book preview

One

Melissa

Fuck that motherfucker! I cried out in staccato, blubbering breaths as a picture frame hit the wall. I slumped down into a pile of white tulle with my last bottle of vodka in my hand. I was sure my mascara was running down my face, and my blotchy skin made me look like a panda bear with allergies. My wedding dress didn’t fit when I tried to zip it up, which was just another reason my husband—ex-husband—didn’t want me anymore. It doesn’t matter that I was the one to call it quits. He took our separation to a new level when he texted me—yes, texted me—You’re a fat pathetic cunt!

Well, he’s a fat pathetic balding bastard!

We had been married fifteen years. Somewhere around year ten, he started to treat me like an employee. Ordering me around, telling me that I’m worthless, and always tearing me down with my ideas or convictions. I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him, for the sake of our boys, we should separate. They didn’t need to see how their father treated me. I won’t let that vicious cycle repeat.

It was supposed to be amicable. Got news for you—it never is. There’s always something people don’t agree with. Where was our issue, you may ask. Money. The root of all evil. Probably the top reason, just under cheating, for getting divorced. That first child support payment was apparently hard for him. Which is why I am apparently a fat pathetic cunt.

Melissa? I hear Liz, my sister from another mister, call out from outside my bedroom door. Liz and her crazy ass is always there for me. When all this first went down, she was my drinking buddy for the full week after I told her everything. I probably owe her a new liver.

I’m fine, I called out, but the hiccup mixed in sobs gave me away.

I looked up when the door started to open.

Melissa? Liz’s eyes go wide as soon as she takes in the entire scene.

Ripped photos, clothes strung everywhere, a lamp beside my bed not the only casualty to the aftermath, but the real mess was me. Greasy brown hair, mascara stains not just on my face but on the wedding dress I am currently sporting that is only halfway on since I couldn’t get it zipped, but the real kicker is probably the hot pink dildo next to me. That’s right—I figure I would need something better than what I’ve been getting. Jeez, I even got critiques about my capabilities and what I needed to do more of. Seriously, what an asshole. He can go suck his own dick.

Oh, Mel, she said, eyeing my vodka.

I pulled it close to my chest and wrapped around it like it’s my baby and I must protect it.

No, give it to me, she snapped.

I twisted to protect my vodka baby from her.

She reached toward me and demanded, Give it.

No! I said, looking at her over my shoulder. It’s mine, I grunt as she rips it from my hands. When did you get so strong? My eyes narrowed on my ex-best friend.

You can’t do this. You are a strong, capable woman and mother. Now, get your ass up off the floor and out of that dress, Liz scolded me.

Did you see what he texted me? I said, holding up my cell phone to Aaron’s brilliantly worded text message.

She took it from my hand and stared at it. He’s a fucking asshole. We both knew that. You’ve been through too many years of him degrading you. Don’t let him keep doing it. She’s already making me feel better. Maybe I’ll keep her as my best friend.

I stood on shaky legs and sat on the edge of my bed.

You need to get out of that dress, take a shower, and I’ll help clean… she broke off, looking around the room to take in the disaster I created, this.

I stood, letting the dress fall from my body. It really was an ugly dress. Something his mother wanted me to wear. I never would have chosen anything with that much tulle. Silk and some lace. Form fitting.

We may have to burn this, she said, picking the dress up off the floor after I stepped out of it.

I walked toward my bathroom in just underwear and a bra, turned back to her and deadpanned, Burn it all.

She knew I wasn’t serious about burning it all, but when I got out of the shower, Deb and Macie were picking up my meltdown in my bedroom, and Liz was nowhere to be found. The distant sounds of Beyoncé’s classics when she was still with that girl band were playing in the distance. Deb and Macie looked up when they hear me coming up behind them.

You didn’t have to clean for me.

We’re in this, babe, Deb says, walking toward me.

They came and surrounded me in hugs that made my tears start back up.

Quit it before I start to cry, Liz says, coming into the room and joining us in our group hug.

The girls knew my divorce was final last week, and it made it all official. So many emotions have been floating around, but it wasn’t until Aaron texted me that it all came falling down. The boys are with him this weekend, and I apparently resorted to killing off part of my own liver after he told me he wouldn’t be helping with the mortgage payment. You know the one that he’s been paying our entire married life while I paid the utilities. Now I’m responsible for both and all the other financial responsibilities of the home we built together.

I got a surprise for you, Liz says with the biggest smile on her face.

I turned and looked at the girls. They are all smiling like jackals. Should I be scared? I asked. They smiled even bigger. I guess so, I muttered under my breath even though I knew they all heard me. Deb and Liz each grabbed an arm, and Macie pushed me from behind. As we traveled through my house toward the backyard, my apprehension spiked. They slid open the backdoor, and it was definitely a surprise I hadn’t expected.

The obnoxious white tulle wedding dress I had been wearing thirty minutes ago was stuffed into a metal trashcan, four wine glasses, a bottle of wine, lighter fluid, and matches on the patio table. We were going to have an ex-husband bonfire. I love my friends. I squeeze them tighter when everything comes together for me.

I can’t believe you guys, I say, trying to hold back ugly tears.

Liz claps her hands together and approaches the trashcan. Let’s do this. She’s always been the craziest of our group, but this was just what I needed.

The girls start to do things all at once. Wine gets poured, a box of Aaron’s things sits close by to add to the fire. Deb squeezes in the lighter fluid and hands me the box of matches. I throw in several photographs of Aaron and me during our happier days, my driver’s license with my married name, and some gifts he has given me over the years. I down the glass of wine and set it back down on the patio table. I struck the match and stare at the flame for a moment before tossing it. It summersaulted in the air, heading toward my past.

That’s all it took—point three seconds before the phrase that escalated quickly became a real thing. Like sirens and firetrucks kind of real thing.

Two

Caleb

The firehouse had been quiet tonight. That is until the alarms started going off. Isn’t that always how it goes? The crew scrambled up out of their chosen comfy spots around the firehouse and hurried toward the rig. Our gear was ready by the truck. Suit pushed down over the fireproof boots to make it easy to step into. Doug pulled the rig from the garage, and we sped down the street. 2146 Ruckers Lane. It’s not a bad area. Houses are decently spaced, so hopefully no other homes would be affected. As we pulled up to the house, no visible signs of fire but the smoke was coming from the backside of the house. We jogged toward the back of the house. There were four women crowded together, one staring toward the house with panic in her eyes. Probably her house.

Max ran back toward the rig. It’s his job to handle the hose. You can already see some damage done to the house. I looked around to see how this started—Fire pit? BBQ? Candles? All the normal things run through my mind. But then I catch sight of… of… what the heck is that?

Oh.

I took a step closer to the metal yard trashcan and saw a hodgepodge of memorabilia. Wedding, honeymoon, vacations, a life together memorabilia. Well damn. It’s an Ex Flambé—well done. You know the kind—some ex-piece-of-shit was fucking up on his duties to not be a dick. Or a deadbeat. But by the looks of this place, he’s not a deadbeat. Just a dick.

Making preparations to make sure the rest of the house didn’t ignite was a top priority before we moved to the fire itself. The sizzling of the fire being extinguished was quite possibly my most favorite sound in this world. Once everything was drenched and we checked the rest of her property to make sure it was safe to clear out of there, half the guys were over talking to the women still standing there in their pajama pants and old tees. One, the presumed owner, has a clear look of what the fuck on her face. Yep, she hadn’t been expecting her night to end like that.

She’s also fucking gorgeous. I literally mis-stepped when I took her in. These big brown eyes, chocolate hair, and sexy librarian glasses. Check, check, and check. She hit all the sexy boxes I’ve got. Plus, her body was amazing. Petite with curves and her tits were the perfect size to fit in the palm of my hand as I covered her while I fuck her into orgasm. All right, Buddy, we’ve got to calm down. We’ve got a job to do. I pulled my gaze away from her and back to business.

When we were done, I walked over to her as she continued to stare at the open exterior wall to her bedroom. I had picked up a partially singed photograph. She’s still in it, but the asshole loser she was married to was burnt off. Kind of made me chuckle.

Ma’am? I said, getting her attention.

Her head flew to me. Oh! Yes?

I just thought you should know, if there is any reason you might need to have another fire—

There won’t be.

Yes, I completely understand. But in case… having a fire extinguisher on hand would be safer. Also, may I suggest not using a trashcan.

Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed. This was a bad decision.

You should just be more careful. Now, you won’t be able to stay here until you are cleared and the damage is repaired. I pushed the photograph I found toward her chest and walked away from her. She had her own fire. Something my cock appreciated but I was frustrated with.

How dare you! she snapped at me.

I just continued to walk away from her. That woman was crazy. WARNING! WARNING! That’s what my brain was saying. I stomped back through and called out for my guys to get back on the rig. We had cleared the property, and now she just has to call her insurance company and put in a claim. She’ll get it all fixed. It just won’t be tonight.

I slammed the door to the rig after I got in and banged my gloved hand on the outside of the rig’s door. Let’s get outta here.

Jeremy pulled away from the house, and I watched as the woman that will more than likely haunt my dreams walked around to the front of her house to watch as our truck drove away. I knew our eyes met as we pulled away, but I turned my head away from her, trying to forget all about the attitude from a scorned woman who lit a bunch of shit on fire.

✧✧✧

What the ever lovin’ fuck? My captain, Mick, slammed his hands down on his desk. Caleb, we don’t need complaints like this. We’re already on the line for budget cuts. I can’t explain that one of my guys was an asshole while on the job.

I wasn’t being an asshole. I handed her a photo and made a suggestion so it didn’t happen again. How is that being an asshole? I asked with my hands raised in the air.

Let me quote this, ‘His tone was rude while he spoke to me’. He set the papers from the complaint back down on his desk. Your tone.

My tone? I mimicked.

Yep, that one. Mick pointed at me. You speak in sarcasm. People don’t like hearing that when they’re already suffering from a traumatic situation.

Which she caused.

It doesn’t matter if she purposely lit her motherfucking house on fire and walked away. You can’t speak to anyone in that tone.

Fine.

I’m serious, Caleb. Go to that bar of yours and chill out. Get some of that tension out and come back for your shift on Monday with a clear head.

Monday! What the hell, Mick?

Monday. Take the next two days off and let everything settle down.

I forcefully stood up from the chair as it slammed into the wall. I waved off my Captain and jerked the door to his office open. I caught sight of my team immediately going from statues to hurriedly get busy doing anything but look at me. They all knew. They all heard. That woman complained to my superiors and got me suspended for the weekend.

✧✧✧

The bar was packed. We were definitely at maximum capacity. There are at least three bridal parties, and I swear every single man was on the prowl. There might also be a few men who have taken their rings off and stuffed them into their pockets. Now those men are assholes. Respect your woman. How hard could it be?

I was behind the bar trying to help my people stay on top of all the orders. Liquor is literally flying off the shelf. We couldn’t keep even the top shelf stocked tonight.

Caleb, we’re going to need to restock the Jack again, Nikki called out from the other end of the bar as she filled a tray of shots.

Got it. I took the moment to go into the back to grab a couple of bottles to take back out front. Here, I said to Nikki when I came back out to the bar.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a group of women that looked familiar. It wasn’t surprising because we get a lot of regulars in here every Saturday night. I turned away from them and set the bottles directly into Nikki’s hands.

Thanks, Boss. She smiled and got back to pouring drinks. Nikki’s a great girl. Hell, if she didn’t feel more like a sister, I’d probably have asked her out by now. But she’s just one of the guys. Don’t tell her I said that—she’d probably kick my ass to Timbuktu.

As the night went on and drinks were poured, you could tell who needed to get cut off and who would be calling for an Uber in the next hour. That’s always been the policy here. Jon Fryer, AKA Fryer, my head security, checked everyone he felt needed a Uber or Lyft with a single use Breathalyzer test. Most people are happy to do it, but every once in a while, there’s an issue. But it didn’t matter because that was policy in my bar. I wanted everyone to make it home safe.

That’s when the military man in Fryer comes out, and he takes care of business. He’s been my friend for almost a decade. Once he got back from Afghanistan, after the attack on the Twin Towers, he was a changed man. He hid from people. From life. His wife left him when she realized how much had changed. Took his little girl and walked away, citing irreconcilable differences. In reality, she started to fuck his friend and neighbor just weeks after he left to defend our country.

People can be despicable. Both men and women.

Last call happens at two, and we started kicking people out. Mainly just the sloppy drunks that don’t want to spend money on an Uber or can’t figure out who can come get them. There have been a couple of times when we’ve been here until four or five waiting for someone to sober up enough to manage to function like a normal human with thumbs.

My attention went back to those women I had noticed earlier, who looked so familiar. They were standing close to the door. One of them on their phone looked like she was texting like a speed demon and talking to her drunk friends while handling herself. Fryer was eyeing the brunette. She very possibly could be more than drunk. She could barely stand. She was holding onto the tallest woman, and she was doing the universal pee-pee dance. Very much like my nephew Camden—he’s two.

One of my eyebrows raised in question as Fryer looked toward me and then back at the women. He shrugged. I silently conveyed with my expression, ‘Keep an eye on them’ and he responded with, ‘You got it, boss.’

I kept looking up and checking on them as I was going through my closing duties and making sure everyone was pulling their weight so we could get out of there. I lost track of the women as I finished getting things organized and cleaned up. When I heard a loud whining, my head jerked up.

NNNNOOOOOO! I DON’T WANT TO GO!! The blonde one screamed in a whining voice.

Fryer looked toward me without taking his eyes off the group of girls. I rolled my eyes, and he took that as, ‘Get them out of here before