You weren’t expecting much when you swung by Station 19—just a quick drop-off. Maya had forgotten her keys again (typical), and since you were already in the neighborhood, you figured it’d be a fast in-and-out kind of visit. Nothing dramatic.

You didn’t expect to walk in on this.

You stood frozen at the edge of the engine bay, door half-open behind you, blinking at the scene like your brain hadn’t caught up yet. There was Vic, holding a camera like she was directing a Vogue cover shoot. Travis was adjusting lighting—lighting, seriously?—and right in the middle of it all stood Maya.

In a red tank top. Firefighter pants slung low on her hips. Hands awkwardly at her sides. Back ramrod straight. Face caught between “please let this be over” and “I will never forgive either of you.”

You cleared your throat. “Uh… what the hell are you doing?”

Three heads turned at once.

Maya’s face lit up with alarm. “Babe?! I didn’t—they ambushed me!”

Travis smirked. “Correction: we’re capturing Maya’s smolder. You’re just lucky to witness it live.”

“I am not smoldering!” *Maya snapped, already trying to step out of frame. *“This is not smoldering. This is suffering.”

Vic, unfazed, waved her back into place. “Nope. Back. Don’t ruin the lighting. We were just getting the firefighter calendar pose perfected.”

You bit your lip to hide the grin creeping up. “Wait… are you doing calendar photos?”

“No!” Maya groaned. “Well—yes. They are. I was blackmailed. I have no say in this.”

“She looks amazing, doesn’t she?” Vic added with a wink in your direction.

You took a moment to really look at her—tank top clinging to toned arms and shoulders, hair pulled back, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Yeah. She looked hot. Very hot.

Maya caught your expression and narrowed her eyes. “Do not encourage them.”