A Beautiful Fire (Love at Lincolnfield Book 4)

by Colette Dixon

  “How many?” Wojcik addressed her.

  She crossed her arms. It may have been sweet for him to stay to help her, but she didn’t need this paternalism.

  “How many stairs in your townhouse?” He wasn’t going to let up.

  She rolled her eyes to the fluorescent lights. “Twenty-two.”

  He grinned, flashing all of his neatly arranged teeth as forcefully as though he’d just scratched off a winning lottery ticket.

  That smile, she suspected, could create a lot of trouble. “What are you smiling about?”

  “You know exactly how many stairs.” He didn’t even try to mask the smug victorious tone in his voice.

  “Well, you must have thought I did since you asked me how many.” Didn’t everyone know exactly how many stairs they had in their home? “How many stairs are in the fire station?”

  His smile fell.

  Yeah, that’s what she thought. He’d counted too and had no business poking fun at her.

  A smirk arose, creasing blond stubble. “Thirty-six. Two landings.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Do you have someone who can carry your mattress downstairs? Because I’m sure you don’t want to sleep on your couch for two months.”

  She stared at the monitors hooked up to the blood pressure cuff on her arm and the pulse ox clip on her finger just to look anywhere but at him. No, she didn’t have anyone in her life who could drag her queen mattress down to the first floor and she was annoyed he now knew this.

  Also, the idea of having that mattress to rest on and not her lumpy and cold leather couch sounded pretty fabulous. The pain in her knee was wearing down her resolve against help. “Are you offering?”

  He leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair and considered her as though she were amusing. “For a doctor, you’re a little slow sometimes.”

  No, not slow, just resistant to men she didn’t need meddling in her life. “I’m not slow.” The words came out more of a snarl than she intended, making her heart pinch with guilt. He was being kind. Even if he wasn’t as funny as he thought he was. “Thank you. That would be very nice.”

  Strangely, she feared she’d just agreed to go on a date with him. The smile he gave her hammered the feeling home.

  During the ride to her townhouse, she relaxed more easily in the bench seat of his truck that was already becoming familiar. The cab smelled like oranges and worn upholstery with a faint note of gasoline. Not as pleasant as he’d smelled. She’d had ample time in his arms, then folded over his shoulder, to catalogue his scent: a cozy, warm aroma not unlike sipping mulled wine by a Christmas tree.

  Her brain had conjured the image of a Christmas tree trimmed in gold ribbon beyond the window of the old Victorian, restored to its former splendor. Once she’d surrendered to him carrying her, his grip had felt secure. Dependable. The same sensation that always accompanied the house fantasy.

  The truck came to a stop at a red light. Wojcik’s lake blue eyes flashed in the mirror. “Okay back there?”

  “Fine. Thanks.” She was far from fine. Apart from the fact she had a broken kneecap, her imagined family scene crossing wires with Wojcik was unsettling.

  She had to stop the ridiculous machinations of her brain. Just because a man’s grasp felt reassuring, didn’t mean he was a dating candidate.

  Cranky Doctor sat regally on her leather couch as though she weren’t in her own home. Or she just didn’t want to relax around him. If he were her, he’d have become one with that couch by now with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other.

  “My bedroom is the first door on the right.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to go poking around your place.”

  “I’m not… I didn’t mean…”

  He was glad his smile was hidden from her view as he bounded up her stairs before she could finish. Why was it so fun to fluster her? Maybe because she was so uptight it was so damn easy. He shouldn’t be here, inserting himself in her business this way. But he didn’t like the thought of her struggling with her crutches when it was nothing for him to get that bed for her.

  She seemed to take his ruffling her as flirting. Maybe he was flirting a little. But he wasn’t about to ask her out. He didn’t want to date anyone. Not yet.

  He wanted to change that night when Samara was in the hospital all alone and he was out on a call, helping up an old woman who’d fallen. The woman hadn’t even lost consciousness and her son was present the whole time. The son could have easily picked her up and taken her to the hospital himself. Then maybe Jakub could have made a difference in Samara’s care. He could have pressed for the right treatment sooner.

  He removed all the bedding but the fitted sheet and wrestled the bulky mattress down the narrow stairs.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Harper’s voice called from the living room. “Watch the picture frames on the wall, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When he reached the bottom, he dragged the bed to the living room and butted it up against the couch.

  Silently, she cooperated by lifting her legs then dropped them on the mattress. “This is great. Thank you so much.”

  He nodded. “Need ice?”

  She gave him a soft look, her shoulders falling slightly and nodded. Warmth shivered along his spine. He thought her reluctant smiles were pretty. But her surrendering body language stirred parts that needed to stay put as images rushed to mind of her surrendering herself in a very different way.

  He took off at a skip to the kitchen and found the icemaker in her fridge, letting his hands linger on the bin to cool himself. It had been a long time without a woman in his bed and he hadn’t realized how susceptible he would be around an attractive woman.

  The last few years his life had consisted of the station, the gym, and the inside of his condo. To see the rest of the world going on without Samara made him too damn angry. To pretend his life was back to usual without her was too difficult of a charade.

  The only thing that reminded him he was alive lately was that woman who ran by the station every morning at 5:45.

  And now he was here inside her house.

  This had all been a very bad idea. He had to focus and get out quick.

  In one of the kitchen drawers, he found a big Ziploc, stuffed it full of ice, and returned to the living room.

  She had moved herself onto the mattress, put a throw pillow beneath her injured leg, and was tapping the screen of her phone.

  Her face brightened when she saw him. “Oh, thank you.” She reached for the ice bag.

  He knelt on the bed, not wanting to get too close, and tried to ignore the scent of her emanating up from the sheets. He quickly handed over the ice then bounded upstairs to retrieve the rest of her bedding.

  Being away from her up there wasn’t much better. Her linens wrapped her scent around him—something floral and clean, more feminine than simply laundry detergent. Maybe the lotion she used. Whatever it was, he didn’t need to know.

  He skipped down the stairs then set the clump of comforter and pillows on the couch where she could reach. “Okay, if that’s it, I’ll be going now.”

  “You will?” Something like fear flashed in her eyes. In the next second, it was gone.

  But not before the plight of her being an invalid alone in the house pressed on his chest. It seemed she didn’t want him to leave. He tried not to think about how that made him feel…and failed.

  She had no men in her life, not even a brother nearby, apparently, who could move a mattress for her. He should get her number so he could check up on her. He didn’t want to leave her like this.

  No. He’d already done more than he should. “You good?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be okay. Look. I know I was grumpy, and I’m sorry. I don’t know how to thank you. Really. This was above and beyond.”

  He shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

  “But you’re off duty,” she said as though she was disappointed with his explanati
on.

  He wouldn’t stay around to argue why he’d done what he’d done. “Goodbye, Dr. Peters.”

  “Harper.”

  “Goodbye, Harper. Best of luck with the knee.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait. I don’t even know your first name.” Her voice reached a desperate pitch—the pitch a less tough woman might have used immediately after breaking a kneecap, or at some point in the ER.

  The fact she saved this desperation until now, as if not knowing his name was worse than the pain of the nearly-shattered bone, stroked him with unexpected pleasure.

  He swiveled a quarter turn and uttered, “Jakub,” before quickly resuming his exit.

  “Thank you, Jakub.” Her voice reached him as he walked toward the door.

  He couldn’t let himself linger. Because since he’d dragged that comforter down the stairs, her scent clung to him like a humid August night. He needed a cold shower ASAP.

  Chapter Four

  By the time Jakub woke, the sun was waning. He rubbed his eyes, flung open his black-out shade and peered into the autumn dusk. The wind whipped a few skeletal leaves along the sidewalk. He stood and stretched.

  In his office-slash-workout-room he did some burpees, grateful for all of his intact bones. Unlike poor Cranky Doctor—no, Harper. Not so uptight that she insisted on being addressed as doctor.

  He ran through all the things he’d discovered about the pretty jogger he’d admired for months. Her full name was Harper Peters. Doctor of infectious disease who lived at 3532, Number Two Maple Street. Stubbornly independent and sexy as hell. But not used to being a patient.

  An urge jolted through him to find out how she was doing, but he didn’t have her number. The only way he could check up on her was to show up at her house. Not cool. And not going to happen.

  He picked up his phone and texted Ritchie. Got time for a beer tonight?

  Jakub had hardly finished sending when ellipses appeared. In another second, the text arrived with a bloop. Does the Pope wear a funny hat?

  Twenty minutes later, he sat at the bar of the Firestation Pub, which was actually a historic renovation of the original Firestation 41 after their new facility was built around the corner decades ago.

  Ritchie sauntered over and sat on the stool next to Jakub. “Wojcik leaves the house. To what do I owe this miracle?”

  “Nothing. Just wanted out for a bit.”

  “Tell me the truth. You missed my pretty face.”

  Honestly, he did miss Ritchie’s ugly mug. This month their schedules didn’t line up as much as usual, and so they resorted to stupid pranks to remind each other they both worked at the same station.

  “What can I say? I’d be lost without you, man.” Jakub rose his pint glass and took a sip.

  The joke couldn’t be closer to the truth. For three long years, Ritchie never ceased to invite Jakub to family events, barbeques on the lake, holiday bashes, birthdays. Time after time, he had turned his friend down, but the fact the invitations didn’t stop coming meant a lot. He knew Ritchie would be there when he was ready.

  Ritchie gave him a solemn look then slapped a hand over his heart. “The answer is ‘Yes.’ I will marry you.”

  Jakub bumped him on the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Seriously though, man. Something up?”

  “Nah. Just, you know, maybe it’s time to try to get back out there.”

  Ritchie nodded severely. “That’s good, man. Glad to hear it.” He ordered a beer from the bartender.

  Should he tell him about her? What the hell. “Had a strange end to my shift this morning.”

  “What happened?”

  “This woman literally fell at my feet. I mean she was jogging in front of the station and she tripped. Broke her kneecap on the sidewalk.”

  Ritchie inhaled through clenched teeth. “That’s gotta hurt.”

  “Yeah. Looked like it did. I took her to the ER myself.”

  His friend scooped the beer the bartender set in front of him and took a swig, an eyebrow raising along with the glass. “Yourself?”

  “In the Dodge. She didn’t have anyone to call to help her. It seemed unnecessary to call an ambulance. I mean we both knew the reason she fell. It wasn’t a heart attack.”

  “She pretty?”

  “What?” Jakub screwed up his face.

  “Come on. What’s the point of the story? We rescue people all the time. So what was it about her?”

  “Nothing. She was actually kind of uptight. A doctor.” An infectious disease doctor. But he couldn’t say those words out loud.

  Another raised eyebrow. “I’d be uptight too if I broke a knee.”

  “Yeah. Maybe that was it.” The day after the break would probably be even worse, the swelling would be at its peak and she’d need to change the bandages. Who was going to help her do that?

  Jesus, Wojcik, she’s a doctor. She can change her own bandages.

  “It’s not cheating on Samara.”

  Jakub snapped his gaze to Ritchie.

  He calmly sipped his beer. “Not cheating on her to think another woman’s pretty.”

  His words cut closer to the heart of it than Jakub liked to admit. “I never said she was pretty.”

  Ritchie’s cheek hooked up, crinkling the scar on the arch of his cheekbone. “Didn’t have to say it.”

  Busted. No point in holding back now. “She isn’t pretty.” Jakub let a smile break through. “She’s fucking beautiful.”

  Ritchie laughed and something released in Jakub’s gut. He laughed too. The laughter turned into a self-perpetuating fit, and like a couple of ten-year-old pranksters they giggled and snickered and took turns pinching almost-tears from their eyes. A month’s worth of tension unspooled within him. He’d done the right thing, coming out tonight.

  “Good to know you’re still alive. Hey, Aurelia’s cousin is getting married next month. She’s sending you an invitation.”

  “Thanks. I’ll send a gift.”

  Ritchie washed down the rest of his beer. He opened his mouth but closed it. Thankfully, the man knew when not to push it. Instead he clapped Jakub on the back. “I’ve got to run, man. Good to see you.”

  “Hey, one more thing.”

  Ritchie stood somber in front of him, ready to perform any favor—just like Jakub would do for him.

  “Save the teddy bears for the little old ladies.”

  A grin stretched Ritchie’s face and flashed his pearly whites. He touched a finger to his temple then pointed it at Jakub with a wink. “Good one.”

  After Ritchie left, Jakub finished his beer, settled up the tab then sauntered back to his truck. Teddy bears on his mind, he turned down the street of the station.

  Before he could think better of it, he pulled to the curb, popped out of the truck and raced to the bunks, past Stacy in the office and Caldwell in the lounge. He grabbed the yellow bear with the brown bow and raced back to the truck before any of his team had a chance to throw snark.

  He didn’t know exactly what he was doing. He seemed captive to some irrational version of himself as he let his hands and feet guide the truck to the doctor’s neighborhood.

  He parked at the curb outside her townhouse. Night had fallen. Yellow incandescent light bathed her front living room with warmth, the blue flashing images of a television flickering on the walls and windows. The lights upstairs were off.

  He cranked the gearshift to park and got out of the car. This wasn’t weird, right? Not as long as he didn’t knock—if he only left the teddy bear at her door.

  Harper aimed the remote at the TV and muted the documentary on birds of the world. She grabbed her laptop off the couch behind her. Hot Fireman had a great idea to put this mattress down here. She could recline up on the couch against her back or lie flat if she chose. If she didn’t move at all she had very little pain.

  She should have asked him before he left to get her a change of clothes, so she didn’t have to pull herself backwards up the stairs to get her
pajamas and clothes for tomorrow. But to have him rifling around in her drawers? Yeah, maybe not.

  The twenty-two stairs to her second floor loomed in her mind like Mount Everest. Well, she wasn’t going to be able to run for a while so she could use the exercise of getting around with only her arms. After checking her email and responding to a few, she put the laptop down. Being bedridden was boring her to tears, and she hadn’t even been stuck here for one entire day.

  Putting off the chore of going upstairs to retrieve her clothes, she grabbed her phone and texted Bev. Gregarious Bev who knew how to have a good time, who had always managed to coax Harper out of her shell enough to attend parties with her in college, would, undoubtedly, have some ideas about how Harper could stay entertained.

  What are some good tv comedies? Preferably ones that last for several seasons. Fractured my patella and need some diversion. How are you?

  Harper’s one true friend nearby—if four conjoined suburban towns away was considered nearby—had been her college roomie and now ran a farm-to-door organic food box delivery business with her husband.

  When no reply came after a few minutes, Harper scooted her bottom up to the couch cushions and grabbed the crutches. She crutched to the bottom of the stairs and lowered herself to sit on the second stair, leaving her crutches against the bannister.

  Slowly, she began to pull herself backwards up the stairs. Halfway up she realized once she reached the top, she’d have no crutches with which to get around.

  She suddenly felt like a castaway on a desert island with no one to call for help. Even if she had anyone to call, her phone was at the bottom of the stairs. Panic began to rise, sending tingles over her face.

  Get a hold of yourself, Harper. People endured much more horrible fates than this. Like cholera, Ebola, a hundred other infectious diseases, with no access to medicine, and the strongest ones lived to tell about it. She was responsible for the disaster preparedness plan for the entire hospital system, which consisted of four hospitals including Lincolnfield. However inconvenient a broken patella was, this was no disaster. She could certainly muscle her way up and down a stairway and navigate to her bedroom without crutches.