The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  “I did. He’s been here the past few days. And he’s her fiancé, not her boyfriend.”

  “Then why are you there?” she asks.

  It’s a fair question, and one I’ve asked myself for the past twelve days.

  “Because she wants me here, I guess.”

  I hear Aspen sigh into the phone. “Den, she’s engaged. And he’s there now. Don’t you think you’ve more than done your job?”

  “She’s scared and she doesn’t know him, Pen.”

  “She doesn’t know you.”

  “I know. But she thinks she does. In some strange way, I think I know her, too. Maybe it’s because we were in the car together and we shared some of the scariest moments of our lives.”

  “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, big brother. I think you should talk to someone.”

  “I have.”

  “You … really? You have?”

  “Someone from FDNY. And you know what he told me?”

  “What?”

  “That if I’m not hurting anyone and if I don’t have false expectations of how this will turn out, it’s perfectly fine.”

  I can hear the cogs in her head spinning to try and come up with a rebuttal.

  “Fine,” she says in her pouty voice. “But you better meet us after the game.”

  “I will.”

  “Sawyer wants to go out to some of his favorite places. I’ve cleared it with Bass and Ivy, and they’re lining up a sitter so they can come, too. Do you think you could find someone to bring along?”

  I think about the last date I had three weeks ago. It was the sister of a guy over at Engine 38 where I’d worked a few shifts the week before. She was fun enough, but I didn’t ask her out again. I normally don’t. I’m not trying to be an ass or anything, but I guess Kendall kind of left a bad taste in my mouth. She left me after two years, even though she knew I was innocent of the crime I’d been convicted of. She left me because of the way she was treated by her friends and acquaintances. Like the girlfriend of a criminal.

  Since then, I’ve just found it easier to go out on simple dates. Casual, fun, no-strings-attached dates.

  I think of Nurse Tiffany. Maybe I should go get that number from Krista after all. But something about that doesn’t seem right, her being Sara’s nurse and all. Then I remember the admit nurse in the ER.

  “I might be able to find someone,” I say, wondering if I have enough time to pop downstairs and ask Nora Goodwin to dinner before Sara comes back.

  “Good. We’ll meet you at home tomorrow night around nine.”

  “I’d prefer to meet you wherever we’re going if that’s okay.”

  She laughs. “Don’t want the girl to know where you live?”

  “Maybe I don’t want her to know where you live. Where Sawyer lives—part of the time, anyway.”

  “Right. Of course, thank you.”

  “Text me with the place and I’ll see you then. I’ve got to run.”

  “Bye, Den. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Pen.”

  I head downstairs to ask Nora out. I find her sitting at the ER admissions desk.

  “Hi,” I say, after she finishes up with the woman she’s helping. “I’m not sure if you remember me—”

  “Denver Andrews. You’re a firefighter,” she says with a sultry smile. “I never forget a face. Especially one as handsome as yours.”

  I try not to roll my eyes. Get in. Get it done. Get back to Sara.

  “Yeah, well, I know this is short notice, but I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow night for a late dinner, say around nine o’clock?”

  She shrugs a shoulder, trying to look like she’s not all that interested when I can clearly see that she is. “I suppose I could squeeze it in.”

  I look at the clock behind her desk, wanting to get upstairs before they bring Sara back into her room. I grab a piece of paper and scribble down my cell number. “Text me with your address and I’ll pick you up. I have to run.”

  “Okay,” she says as I walk away. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  I turn around and lift my chin at her before I race back upstairs just in time to see Sara get wheeled into her room. They put her in a wheelchair today. She had to be strapped in and supported, and it’s one of those reclining wheelchairs. But again, progress.

  When she’s situated in her bed, the doctor comes in carrying a small package. “I have a going-away present for you, Sara.”

  Sara raises her eyebrows.

  He shows her a device. “This is called a Passy Muir valve. When you are off the vent, we can connect it to the trach, which will allow you to speak. It functions by blocking the tube during exhalation to allow air flow across the vocal chords, which produces sound.”

  Her hand comes up to cover her mouth. I can see emotions all over her face. She wants this. She wants this badly.

  “You want to try it out?” he asks.

  She nods emphatically.

  Since she’s still off the vent, something she’s getting quite good at for longer stretches of time, the doctor attaches the value. “You’ll still sound like you,” he says. “Your voice will just be a little weaker. It’s not like the voice box you see on those smoking commercials.”

  Sara takes in a deep breath like she’s not sure she can remember how to speak. Or she’s scared of what will or won’t come out if she does. What if the brain injury affected her speech? The doctor said some patients can have aphasia, a condition where you can’t recall the names of objects or people even though you know what you want to say.

  She looks at me, and I give her an encouraging nod. I can’t wait to hear her voice. Mostly because I need a new memory of her voice to replace the old one. The one where her voice is trembling with terror in the front seat of a car hanging off the side of a bridge.

  “You can do it, Sara,” the doctor says. “It’s like riding a bike.”

  She nods at him. Then she clears her throat—I can actually hear her do that now—and balls up her fists as if to give herself strength. She looks right at me and says the sweetest words I think I’ve ever heard.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  Tears flood her eyes at hearing her own voice. I have to swallow the lump in my throat to keep my own tears at bay.

  Jason, the speech therapist, walks into the room. “How’s my star pupil?” he asks. “Sara, you passed with flying colors. You can start slow tonight and tomorrow morning with Jell-O and soft foods, but I see no reason why you can’t go back to a regular diet after two or three meals.”

  “You passed!” I say with an overly dramatic fist pump.

  She smiles then clears her throat again. “Studied hard,” she says quietly. “Wanted A-plus.”

  We all laugh.

  I can tell the doctor is more than pleased with her ability to speak properly.

  The nurse comes in and gives some paperwork to Dr. Miller. “Looks like your ride is here, Sara,” he says after signing it. “You’re going by ambulance to your new temporary home. We’ll miss you around here, but we’re not sorry to see you go.” He puts a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t mind telling you now that you gave us quite a scare. The progress you’ve made so far, it’s nothing short of miraculous. Somebody up there must be looking out for you, young lady.”

  Sara looks right past him to where I’m standing. “I think someone is,” she says in nothing more than a loud whisper.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sara has been put through her paces on her first day at the rehab center. They told us that from nine to three every day, with the exception of a break for lunch, she’ll be getting some kind of therapy. This morning, the physical therapist lifted Sara up between parallel bars and she was able to stand. I’m not sure how the therapist was able to control Sara’s weak, wobbly body, but he did. And every time he would sit her down, she would ask to stand up again.

  And she would smile. She would smile at me sitting in the corner, cheering her on.

/>   She did so well that Donovan, her physical therapist, said he wanted to get her walking in the afternoon. I didn’t believe it, of course. How could she possibly walk when she can barely hold herself up?

  But here I stand, watching a miracle happen. It’s a collaborative effort for sure, with Donovan helping her stand, and another therapist on the floor helping Sara know which foot to lift and helping her lift it. Yet another person walks right behind her with a wheelchair in case she falls or needs to sit. And then there’s me, a few steps in front of her, talking to her the whole time, keeping her attention while I encourage her to lift her head by herself and look at me.

  She takes five steps, sits for a break, and then takes five more. Cheers can be heard throughout the hallway.

  Progress.

  When we get back to her room, she’s exhausted. She gets put back on the vent.

  “You wait here,” I tease. “I’ve got a surprise for you. I’ll be back soon.”

  She nods before falling off to sleep.

  Before I leave, I stare at her awhile, amazed at the advances she’s made today. Less than a week ago, the doctors were still saying she might not recover, or if she did, she’d have major deficiencies. Yet here she is. Walking. Talking.

  She doesn’t talk much. I think it tires her out. Last night, when we first arrived at the rehab center, after she got situated in her room, all she wanted to do was play cards. So we played Go Fish and listened to the Beach Boys until she could no longer keep her eyes open.

  I look around her room that looks far less like a hospital room with the exception of the ventilator. And this room has flowers. I was happy to see that Oliver had sent some over last night to welcome her to her new temporary home. And it has balloons. I’d contemplated going with flowers as well, but then I remembered my promise not to step on his toes. Flowers might have been too much stepping.

  I slip out of her room to run my errand and am back in less than an hour. When I get to her room, Oliver is there and the nurse is bringing in Sara’s dinner tray.

  “No way,” I tell the nurse. “She’s not eating that. She was a rock star today and deserves a reward for her first real meal.”

  I place the bag on the table in front of Sara, noticing she’s been taken off the vent again.

  “What?” she asks softly.

  I dig into the bag and pull out a gourmet cheeseburger and fries. Her eyes go wide.

  “A burger?” Oliver says in displeasure. “You got her a burger?”

  “Hell yes, I did. This is a celebration dinner.”

  “Why in bloody hell would you do that?” he asks. “She’s vegan.”

  “She’s what?”

  “Vegan,” he says. “As in, she doesn’t eat meat. Or French fries made with beef fat.”

  I look down at the burger, feeling guilty. I start to wrap it back up. “I’m sorry. Lydia told me … Well, it’s not important.”

  “Stop,” Sara says, looking at the burger as if she wants to devour it immediately.

  “You want it?” I ask.

  She nods, her wide eyes not straying from her dinner.

  “She wants it,” I say to Oliver.

  Oliver looks perturbed. I guess he’s upset that she doesn’t remember her life. Doesn’t remember him. But then he forces a smile and pushes the burger closer to her. “What my fiancée wants, she gets.”

  Sara smiles with relief. I’m not sure if she thinks Oliver controls what she can and can’t do. But maybe now is not the time to tell her he doesn’t. I try a different tactic instead. “Oliver, I think Sara will need help eating. And remember, this will be her first solid food in thirteen days, so don’t let her overdo it. She should take small bites.”

  “Right,” he says, pulling a chair close to her bed. “I’ve got this, mate. You’ve probably been here all day, why don’t you head home. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  While he pours Sara a cup of water from the pitcher on her side table, Sara’s eyes find mine and she stares at me. She stares at me the way she should be staring at him.

  “I … Actually, I have a baseball game to go to.”

  I don’t. I mean, there is a game tonight, but I don’t need to go. I told Aspen I wouldn’t. But I think I should. Sara and Oliver need to spend time together. Time without me.

  “Sara, I hope you enjoy your meal. You did great today.”

  “Tomorrow?” she asks, looking hopeful.

  I shake my head. “I work tomorrow. I’ll stop by the day after. Joelle said she’d be here tomorrow, and I’m sure Oliver will keep you company.”

  She nods.

  “Come on, hun,” Oliver says. “Let’s get you fed. Then we can watch something on the telly.”

  She looks over at the deck of cards sitting on the side table. “Okay,” she says, her eyes following me as I walk out her door.

  ~ ~ ~

  Watching the game with Aspen was fun, and it’s a refreshing change to have someone who loves the opposing team as much as I do. I loved playing baseball growing up, and I’ve always been a fan of MLB. But when your brother-in-law is one of the best shortstops in the league, not to mention he holds the record for stolen bases, it makes watching games even more enjoyable.

  Sawyer got me a job last year in Kansas City. I worked grounds crew for the Royals when nobody else would hire me. I grew up loving the Royals, and now I have two more reasons to cheer for them.

  Aspen invites her friends, Rylee and Murphy, to go out with us, but they already have other plans.

  “I have to swing by and pick up my date on the way to the restaurant,” I tell Aspen, as all of us head down towards the clubhouses to meet up with the players.

  “Why didn’t she just come with you to the game?” Aspen asks.

  I shrug. “For one, I didn’t know I was coming until a few hours ago. And two, well …”

  “She’s just your date for the night and you don’t plan on calling her tomorrow.”

  “Don’t look at me like that, Pen. It’s not like I have a bunch of one-night stands and sneak off in the middle of the night.”

  She gives me a scolding look. “You don’t sleep with them?”

  “I don’t sleep with most of them,” I say. “I’m not a playboy like your husband used to be.”

  “Gee, thanks for reminding me.” She rolls her eyes. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to try a second date now and then. Not everyone is like Kendall. Anyone worth having will stick with you through thick and thin.”

  I ignore her observation. I’m tired of Aspen shrinking me. “I’m going to head out and get Nora while you wait for Sawyer. Meet you there?”

  “Sounds good.”

  I say goodbye to Aspen’s friends and make my way through the crowd to the subway. Twenty minutes later, I’m knocking on Nora’s door.

  “I’m so glad you asked me out,” she says. “I didn’t think you even noticed me.”

  “What’s not to notice?” I ask.

  “Thanks,” she says, walking down her front stairs. She looks into the street. “Oh, we’re not taking a cab?”

  “I’m more of a subway guy.”

  She looks down at her very high-heeled shoes. “Uh, mind if I run back up and change out of these?”

  I wait on the sidewalk while she trades her fuck-me heels for a more sensible pair.

  We make small talk on the way to dinner. I ask her about being a nurse and she asks how I like being a firefighter. When we make it to Mitchell’s, Nora looks up at the awning. “I love this place,” she says. “Have you ever been here before?”

  “It’s one of my favorites.”

  She hooks her arm around my elbow. “See, we have so much in common already.”

  I open the door for her.

  “A chivalrous fireman,” she fawns. “You really are the whole package.”

  I see Ivy waving at me from across the restaurant and we make our way over.

  Nora smiles and bats her eyelashes when I pull out a chair for her.


  I lean over to kiss Ivy and shake Bass’s hand. “Aspen and Sawyer shouldn’t be too long,” I say. “Ivy and Bass Briggs, meet Nora Goodwin.”

  We order some drinks and then I see a familiar face.

  “Hey, Denver, nice to see you again,” Kyle Stone says, stopping at our table.

  “Kyle, you, too. Guys, this is Kyle Stone. We met at Aspen’s wedding.”

  “Dr. Stone,” Nora says in greeting.

  “We’re not at work, Nora. Please call me Kyle.”

  “I know your wife,” Ivy says to Kyle. “I met her through a friend of mine who’s married to her brother.”

  “Lexi’s right over there.” He points across the restaurant. “Hey, you guys mind if we crash your party? We’ve got another couple coming as well.”

  Ivy looks around the restaurant. “Do you think they’d mind?”

  Kyle laughs. “We’re dining with the owner’s daughter, so no, I’m sure they won’t mind.”

  He walks over to the hostess stand and then a few workers come over and push some tables together for us. Lexi comes over and introductions are made all around.

  “Oh, here they are,” Kyle says, motioning for two people to come join us. “Everyone, this is Baylor and Gavin McBride. Lexi works with Baylor.”

  “You mean for,” his wife says.

  He leans down and kisses her. “Just trying to make your job sound more important, sweetheart.”

  Baylor swats Kyle. “Her job is important,” she says. “I would be lost without her. She’s my right hand.”

  “What is it that you do?” Nora asks.

  “I’m a writer,” Baylor says.

  Lexi guffaws. “Oh, please. She’s way too modest. She’s a very successful author of romance novels. She writes under the name Baylor Mitchell.”

  “Wait,” Nora says, looking dumbfounded. “You’re Baylor Mitchell? Oh, my God, I love your books. I’ve read every single one of them.”

  Baylor looks embarrassed and shoots Lexi a biting stare. “Thank you,” she says to Nora. “I’m glad you have enjoyed them.”

  “Would you sign something for me?” Nora asks. “The other nurses at work will die. They all read your books.”