The Fireman’s Pole Position
MM Firefighter Romance
by Chase Power
Available at all major retailers
Pairing: MM
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Firefighter Romance, Age Gap, Grumpy/Sunshine, Forced Proximity, Small Town, Praise Kink, Found Family, Workplace Romance, Competence Kink, Control/Surrender
The new paramedic came to town for a quiet reset. The fire captain came with a rulebook, a hero complex, and a pole he should absolutely not be thinking about.
Jasper “Jazz” Reyes came to Pine Ridge for six quiet months. After years of city ambulances, impossible shifts, and one call he can’t stop replaying, the last thing the paramedic needs is a small-town fire captain with a laminated rulebook, a permanent scowl, and shoulders made for shameless calendar fundraising.
Captain Eli Walker believes every rule exists for a reason — especially the one about not dating colleagues. But Jazz is brilliant under pressure, reckless with his own heart, and apparently determined to turn every shift into an argument Eli cannot win.
Then suspicious fires begin appearing across town. As the blazes escalate, Eli and Jazz must trust each other with lives, secrets, and the kind of desire neither man can keep contained. A charity calendar may be the least professional thing happening at Station 4.
Because the hotter things get between them, the more dangerous it becomes to pretend their hearts are fireproof.
You’ll love this book if you enjoy:
✅ Grumpy fire captain x mouthy paramedic (42/29 age gap)
✅ Forced proximity with shared on-call quarters
✅ “We cannot do this at work” energy (they absolutely do it at work)
✅ Slow burn that DETONATES (🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ — graphic, explicit, praise-heavy)
✅ Found family fire station with the best supporting cast
✅ A retired arson dog with opinions
✅ One very viral charity calendar
✅ HEA guaranteed
⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes), strong language, fire-related danger, depictions of PTSD and burnout, and an arson subplot. Intended for readers 18+.
📖 Read Chapter One Free
Not sure yet? Read the full first chapter right here.
Chapter One: Welcome to Pine Ridge
The GPS said I’d arrived. The blizzard said otherwise.
I sat in my Honda with the engine idling, wipers losing their war against sideways snow, and stared at the address on my phone for the third time. 14 Birch Lane, Pine Ridge, New York. The furnished rental that was supposed to be my fresh start, my quiet reset, my six months of not watching people die on a gurney while I pumped their chest and pretended I still believed it would help.
The house was dark. Not unoccupied dark — gone dark. No curtains in the windows. No mailbox. The porch light fixture dangled by a wire.
I called the landlord. Voicemail. Called again. Voicemail. Texted. Read receipt, no response.
Then my phone dinged with an email, already three hours old, buried under weather alerts: Hi Jasper, so sorry, we double-booked the unit and had to honor the first lease. Refund processing. Best of luck!
Best of luck. With a smiley face emoji.
I pressed my forehead to the steering wheel and let the heat vent blast my face while I considered my options. I had a duffel bag, a stethoscope, eighty-seven dollars in my checking account until Friday, and a mutual-aid assignment that started in fourteen hours at a fire station I’d never seen in a town I couldn’t currently see through the whiteout.
No hotel within thirty miles. No friends within three hundred. No pride left to bruise.
I pulled up the number for Pine Ridge Fire & Rescue, Station 4, and called the non-emergency line.
A woman answered on the second ring. “Station 4, Dispatch Supervisor Patel.”
“Hey, this is Jasper Reyes. The paramedic transfer starting tomorrow? I’ve got a housing situation.”
“Define situation.”
“The kind where I’m sitting outside a house that doesn’t exist anymore and the snow’s trying to bury me.”
A pause. Then, dry as bone: “Hold, please.”
She put me on hold to what I swear was Fleetwood Mac.
Ninety seconds later, she was back. “Captain Walker says you can bunk at the station tonight. Secondary bunkroom off the apparatus bay. Come through the side entrance — the bay door’s frozen again. And Reyes?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t touch the chili in the fridge. It’s the captain’s.”
Station 4 looked exactly like a building that had been holding a small town together for forty years: solid, weathered, a little stubborn.
I grabbed my duffel, ducked through the side entrance, and stepped into a wall of heat, diesel, and burnt coffee that smelled more like home than anything in Boston ever had.
I was still grinning at the yogurt threat on the whiteboard when something warm and heavy leaned against my leg. An elderly German Shepherd with a graying muzzle and an expression of profound judgment stared up at me.
“That’s Sparky. Retired arson-detection dog. He doesn’t like anyone.”
“He seems to like me.”
“Yeah, that’s the weird part.”
Then the office door at the end of the hall opened, and the rest of the air in the building went somewhere else.
He filled the doorway the way a storm fills a valley — completely, inevitably. Six-three, easily. Shoulders that strained the seams of a dark station tee. Close-cut hair, dark blond, silver threading the temples. A beard, neatly trimmed, the kind that would leave marks. Blue eyes behind reading glasses pushed up into his hair. Forearms — Jesus Christ, the forearms — corded and tan, one of them carrying an old burn scar.
He was holding a clipboard. Of course he was holding a clipboard.
My first coherent thought was oh no, he’s exactly my type. My second thought was he’s my supervisor.
A knock on the bunkroom door at 2130. He was holding a piece of paper. Laminated.
Twelve rules. Typed, formatted, laminated. Including “no interpersonal relationships within the direct chain of command.”
“You laminated this.”
“The last copy got coffee on it.”
Something about the preparation, the precision, the absolute refusal to leave anything to chance, was so aggressively competent that my body couldn’t decide if it was annoying or arousing.
We looked at each other for a beat that lasted one second longer than professional. His eyes were very blue.
“Goodnight, Reyes.”
“Night, Captain.”
He closed the door. I stared at the laminated sheet for a long time. Twelve rules. Hand-delivered by a man who looked like he’d been carved out of a mountain and sounded like a slow fire in a quiet room.
I was in so much trouble.
Want to keep reading? The full novel is available now.
🔥 Want an EXCLUSIVE Bonus Chapter?
First Christmas at Station 4 — A scene TOO HOT for Amazon
Jazz and Eli’s first holiday shift together. Sparky gets a new bed he ignores. The crew does Secret Santa. And after the station goes dark, the captain discovers that Jazz has been very, very naughty — and the penalty for Rule 14 has never been more explicit.
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