Off the Clock (Mount Hope #2) Read Online Annabeth Albert

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: Mount Hope Series by Annabeth Albert
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
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“They did.” I conveniently kept my mouth shut about Tony having been there as well.

Sean pursed his lips like he’d rather eat a baker’s dozen of raw lemons than bring up whatever he’d really come to say. He shuffled his feet from side to side.

“Thanks for coming to check on us.” I gave a pointed look past him down the street. He could simply leave, spare us both the hassle.

“Look, Caleb, I’m here as a friend, not acting captain.” And there was his opening play. He gestured at his street clothes like that made a difference.

“Okay.” I measured out the word. I wouldn’t play completely dumb, but I wasn’t interested in making this easy. Sean was a good guy in a difficult situation, but dammit, so was Tony. And me, for that matter.

“There have been some…rumors the past few weeks. The gossip got particularly loud after the football fundraiser. But I know you and Tony have been spending time together on that project and you’re mentoring him at work, so I chalked it up to another crush of yours.”

“That’s me, always with the crushes,” I said blandly.

“Which is what I thought. And then I saw Tony’s face when you left yesterday.” He looked skyward, like seeking divine guidance on how to proceed. “I’ve never seen my friend care about anyone that much.”

“We’re friends.” I shrugged like my soul wasn’t dying a slow death. Our game clock had finally run down.

“I hope that’s all.” Sean held up a hand. “And no more talking. I honestly don’t want to know if I’m right or wrong here. I’d rather not have to brief you both on the procedures for inter-crew dating. Or lecture you specifically about how you’re essentially in a supervisory position over a fire academy candidate. He might be older, but you’re the one with authority.”

“Yep.” I grimaced. “Guess I am.”

“You are.” He glared at me. “The optics of you two as anything other than friends wouldn’t be great. And given the diversity of our crew, the wrong impression could harm more than simply you. We want incoming candidates to feel safe, not like they are signing up for a dating reality show.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” My voice came out worn and soft.

“Me either.” Sean tossed up his hands again. “Tony is one of my oldest friends, and I love him like a brother.” He inhaled sharply. “But I also have an entire crew to think about, not to mention the department’s reputation and both of your careers.”

And his own. I could have pointed that out, but I wasn’t pissed. Anger would be far easier than the despair that had settled over me, making it impossible to do anything other than nod. “Yeah.”

“And that’s what I’m asking you to do. Think. Stop and think.”

“I’ve been⁠—”

“Nuh-uh.” He silenced me with a shake of his head. “Remember, I’m trying not to know a damn thing here. I’m a friend telling another friend that there are rumors with consequences. And the smoke is only getting thicker.”

“I understand.” I met his gaze, didn’t blink or waver. In fact, I stayed standing at the door long after Sean had left. I’d carried so much anxiety around for weeks about Sean or someone else confronting us. It was almost a relief to have the worst or almost worst have happened. I still had my job. Tony had his. All that was left was for us to talk it out. And soon, no more playing ostrich from either of us.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tony

“Next time, as soon as you get the ball, you cut left.” I motioned wide with my arms as I reviewed the previous play with John. “If the opening is there, it should be an easy first down.”

“Easy.” Holding his helmet, John gave me a skeptical look as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. His disbelief was understandable because little in football could be described as easy.

“Relatively.” I offered him a smile I didn’t entirely feel. It had been a long week in a long damn month, but John and the rest of the kids deserved some patience and a decent mood. I was covering for Coach Willard, who had another doctor’s appointment, and I was honestly happy to be here rather than at the station or at Eric’s, stewing in my thoughts.

“You’re good at this coaching gig,” Scotty said as he jogged over to us.

“Coming up with plays? I think I’m better now at play calling than when I was playing.” As a high schooler, I’d been so concerned with money and my sisters that football had been an escape. Luckily, I’d been good at it, but creativity and strategic thinking had been in short supply. Later, though, the army honed my ability to plan and see multiple steps ahead of the present position. I shrugged as I continued, “Mission strategy actually comes in handy on the field.”


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