One Fine Fireman

by Jennifer Bernard

  Pete’s eyes were wide with fright. “I don’t think they saw my face.”

  “Don’t worry, they’ll never know his name. He’ll be protected.”

  “Yes, he will be,” said Kirk, stepping to Brody’s side. His face looked grim and angry, his eyes like chips of quartz in a wall of granite. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  Maribel was so glad to see him, she forgot that no one else knew they were—well, in love—and clutched his hand to her heart. “Kirk, where’ve you been?”

  “Trying to figure out what happened. I’m guessing Hagrid went after the bastard—excuse me—who shot at Pete. Some gasoline spilled on his ear and a spark must have landed on it. That’s one lucky dog.”

  “Brave too,” said Captain Brody. He knelt on the blanket next to Fred and looked Hagrid in the eye. Hagrid gazed back with soulful brown eyes. .

  “Good dog,” said Brody finally, reaching out to scratch Hagrid’s uninjured ear. “You did good. But you know that. I hear you were a helluva rescue dog.”

  Hagrid gave a soft yip and licked at Brody’s hand.

  “His ear isn’t too bad,” said Fred. “As long as it doesn’t get infected, he should heal pretty quick. It’s going to scar up though.”

  “Hear that, pup?” said Brody. “A battle scar. All the girls will love you.”

  Hagrid’s intelligent gaze traveled from face to face, but always went back to Brody. He must have recognized the top dog in this pack of firefighters.

  Brody scratched the dog under the chin, making his eyes close in bliss. “We’ll have to make sure you’re well taken care of, won’t we?”

  Pete piped up. “He doesn’t want to go to Colorado. He’s a California dog.”

  “Is that right?” The captain didn’t seem to think it strange that Pete would speak for Hagrid. “Then again, maybe his work here is done.” Another long moment of communion with Hagrid followed, while Maribel fought back tears. If Hagrid had been killed in the fire, or by the arsonists, would they have found Pete in that old sinkhole?

  She held tightly to the lifeline of Kirk’s hand. The warmth of his body, standing so close to her, felt more than reassuring; it felt essential.

  Pete, apparently jealous of Hagrid’s newfound dog-crush on Captain Brody, hopped down from the ambulance and knelt next to Hagrid. He kept the blanket wrapped around himself, but Maribel could tell he felt better. She snuggled closer to Kirk and rubbed her cheek on his arm.

  “What did you mean when you said you’ll make sure Pete’s protected?” Maribel murmured.

  “I’m going to make sure. Personally. I’m going to stay and watch over him.”

  “What?”

  “Listen to me.” She let him pull her away from the ambulance, out of Pete’s earshot. “The police will probably offer some protection, depending on what the arson squad determines. But it’s not enough. I’ll sleep on your couch. I’ll drive him to school. I’ll check with the school officials about security there. I’ll be his personal bodyguard until the danger’s passed.”

  “Kirk! That’s crazy. You’re supposed to be moving to Alaska.”

  A stubborn look came over his face, a very Thor-like expression that really ought to be accompanied by a thunderbolt. “Pete might be the only witness to arson and attempted murder. What’s to stop them from trying to finish the job?”

  Maribel shuddered. “But they didn’t see him!”

  “We don’t know that. What if they had someone on lookout in the woods? We can’t take a chance.”

  “But the police—”

  “Are perfectly competent. But I’m not going to leave it up to them.”

  “Kirk . . .” She wrung her hands together. “You’re scaring me. Of course. That’s it: you’re catastrophizing!”

  “Maribel. Look at me.” She did, and the dead-serious look in his eyes sent a chill straight through her. “I’m not catastrophizing. I’m being smart and careful. In fact, it would be even better if . . .”

  “If what?”

  But they were interrupted by Pete running toward them. “Hagrid might get a special award! Captain Brody says he’s earned it.”

  “That’s great, honey. Of course he’s earned it.”

  Pete looked from one to the other of them. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sweetie, would you mind if Kirk stayed at our house for a little while?”

  An exuberant hug around Kirk’s waist, blanket sliding to the ground, was answer enough for Maribel.

  “Fine,” she told Kirk. “But we need to talk more about this.”

  That stubborn thunderbolt look came back, but he nodded. “What about Hagrid?” He turned to the captain. “Maribel’s allergic. Any ideas who could take care of him for now?”

  Brody stroked his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “I’ll take him to the station, see if any of the crew wants to take him home. I’m sure we’ll get some takers. Maybe even a bidding war. When everyone hears his story, they’ll be fighting over who gets to adopt him.”

  “What about you, Cap? He really likes you.” Hagrid had torn himself away from Fred’s ministrations and was plastered to Brody’s leg, gazing up at him adoringly.

  “Not a good time,” he said vaguely. “Rebecca, you know, well . . . not a good time.” He strode toward Engine 1, Hagrid trotting eagerly at his feet. They watched the dog hop into the fire engine as if he’d been doing it for years. Maybe he had been, in his former career. Hagrid had many secrets, Maribel realized.

  “Well.” She took in a deep breath and smiled at her son and her . . . Kirk. “Shall we go home?”

  KIRK PASSED AN uncomfortable night on Maribel’s royal-purple overstuffed couch. After she’d put Pete to bed, she’d cuddled with him and things had gotten interesting, but neither had felt comfortable going any further with Pete liable to wake up any minute from a nightmare. Which he’d done, later on. Kirk heard Maribel slip into his room, heard the murmur of her voice soothing him, the soft lullaby she sang him. His heart hurt from the beauty of it. Everything he wanted was in that room. Maribel, a family, a bright boy, love, warmth, life. Nothing was going to hurt anyone in that room, he vowed; he’d give his own life to make sure.

  The next day, Pete stayed home from school. Kirk had to go back to his house to move the last few boxes out. He called the movers and put everything on hold for a week. He’d have to talk to the police about their take on the situation. How would he know when it was safe to relax? Would he ever feel comfortable about Pete’s safety, especially when he was thousands of miles away? He doubted that would ever happen. He’d have to consider canceling the move to Alaska.

  When he got back to Maribel’s house, she met him with a tender smile and a happy-to-see-you hug. “Pete’s asleep in my room,” she whispered. “Out like a light. We’ve got hours until he wakes up.” She tugged him toward the living-room couch. He sank into its soft cushions with a sigh that seemed to come straight from his core. She knelt next to him, nudging him to twist a bit to the side. Then cool, gentle hands were playing across the back of his neck, stroking his tight muscles, rubbing out the knots of tension. His eyes drifted halfway shut at the pleasure of her caresses, the sweetness of being taken care of.

  When he thought he’d reached a state of unmatchable bliss, it got better. Those sweet little hands reached around his front and tugged his shirt up. He raised his hands like a child, although the lower half of his body was all adult. The X-rated kind of adult. In no time flat.

  She seemed happy about that sudden bulge in his jeans, if her next actions were any indication. Slipping off the couch, she came around in front of him and straddled his lap. Her cottony pink skirt flowed over his legs. It was like having a summer flower sit on him.

  “Lie back, you stud. It’s my turn.” Her voice was huskier than usual, and he noticed an extra wash of pink on her round cheeks. Since resistance seemed pointless, he lay back and let her run her hands over his chest, her expression rapt as a kid at Christmas. Her light touch made his senses swim; it was a
s if she were a blind person reading him with her fingers. He closed his eyes. Instantly, his whole world shrank to the tracking of her every move, anticipation of her next exploration.

  Her fingers discovered everything: the two chunks of missing flesh, the biopsy scar, the swirls of hair around his nipples, the skipping of the pulse in his neck, the way his very heartbeat danced to her touch. Her hands did more than discover; love flowed from her fingers through his ravaged skin into his heart, which seemed to expand into an unbearably bright sun, an inside sun that could never hurt him.

  “You, my dear,” she murmured as she trailed her hands to the top button of his jeans, “are one fine fireman.”

  “Is that right?” His voice was hoarse.

  “Oh yes.”

  Her voice now came from the region of his crotch. He jerked his eyes open to find her kneeling between his legs, unzipping his jeans. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” She smiled up at him, her pink lips already parted.

  “Yes, but . . . you don’t have to.”

  “Look, buster.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I love every piece of you, and I want to show you just how much. I don’t want to hold back or tiptoe around you or hide what I want. If you have a problem with any of that, you’d better tell me right now.”

  “No. No. I . . . uh . . . no problem.”

  “Then zip it. Not this”—she reached inside his fly—“but that.” She gave his mouth a scolding look, then wrapped her precious lips around his cock.

  Oh sweet lord. Give it up, Kirk. This woman owns you. Scraps of thoughts flew through his brain as she moved her warm mouth up and down his shaft. Anything . . . forever . . . I’m yours . . . so good . . . Oh God . . . Maribel . . . inside . . . need . . . now . . .

  When she paused for breath, he swooped in and whirled her onto the couch. “I’ve got to be inside you.”

  Maribel gave a little gasp, staring dizzily up at the man who’d been at her mercy one second ago. Now he braced himself over her, every ripped muscle vibrating with tension, his voice gritty from lust. She could just about faint from the desire written in every line of his usually serious face. It looked as though the restraint had been scorched out of him by raw, white-hot need.

  “I want you, Maribel.”

  “Oh, me too.” She brought his hand under her skirt, between her legs. She knew he’d find her wet and ready. Loving him with her mouth, feeling his instant response, the swell and surge of him, was an incredible turn-on. He practically ripped her panties down her legs. That sudden show of strength made her gasp again. Then his hands were on her, those work-roughened, all-knowing hands. She nearly moaned from the happiness of having him touch her again. When was that first time . . . yesterday? It felt like eons had passed.

  But it didn’t matter; they were together again, hands on flesh, skin against damp skin, lips on mouth, heart against heart, him inside her, her around him.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, reveling in their power as he thrust into her body. Each flex of his hips set off a sparkling fountain of pleasure, each one deeper and sweeter and more piercing. “I love you, Kirk,” she chanted in a whisper. “I love you, I love you.”

  She had no choice; her body, soul, and heart pushed the words out of her.

  His answer seemed torn from the deepest part of himself. “Oh sweetheart. God, how I love you, Maribel.”

  And then great waves of pleasure lifted them up and away, spun them around, and launched them into endless, exquisite wonder.

  Afterwards, they went into her sunny kitchen, where she put him in the chair farthest from the window and brought him coffee. “Coffee, black?” she asked, her voice still adorably sex-husky.

  “Like old times.” He smiled at her over the mug, blinking like a lovesick puppy.

  She sat across from him, her pink skirt floating around her. He’d never forget that skirt.

  “Pete and I are supposed to meet with the arson investigator tomorrow. Do you think you could come?”

  The request made his heart glow. “Of course. Pete’s not going anywhere without me for a while. I told you.”

  With a nervous, sidelong look, she plucked at the fabric of her skirt. “Kirk, while you were gone, Pete and I talked. We don’t like what you’re doing. It’s not right.”

  Now that was a punch in the gut. He put the coffee mug down on the rickety side table by the couch. “Don’t start, Maribel. You’re not going to change my mind.”

  “But Kirk, have you forgotten you’re moving? You’re supposed to stay out of the sun, and it’s nothing but sun here. It’s bad for your health. We can’t accept that.”

  Agitated, Kirk jumped to his feet. Maribel stood as well, arms folded, her hair a rumpled tangle around her head.

  “It’s my choice. I’m at risk either way, whether I move or don’t. It won’t kill me to stay a little longer.”

  “But you said the UV level is higher here.”

  “I’ll take the chance, Maribel. I stay covered up, I use sunscreen. But I’m not taking chances with Pete’s life. I won’t. Don’t ask me to, sweetheart.” He took her by the shoulders, willing her to understand. “Last night I lay on your couch and promised myself I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or Pete, if I can do anything to stop it. Nothing matters to me more than the two of you.”

  Tears swam in her wide hazel eyes, hung on her eyelashes. Fiercely, she dashed them away and glared up at him. “Don’t you get it, Kirk? We don’t want anything to happen to you either! We want to come with you to Alaska.” Her face went pink as a peach. “I mean, if you want us.”

  “Wh . . . what?” He clutched her tighter, not sure he’d heard right. “Come to Alaska?”

  “Ye . . . es.” Her gaze dropped away, as if she was embarrassed. “I asked Pete how he’d feel about going with you. I said, ‘I’m sorry you can’t have a dog, but what about a fireman instead?’ Kind of joking, you know. I explained that I loved you, and that you’d said you loved me too, and asked what he’d think of us all being together as a family and moving to Alaska and—are you okay?”

  Sure, he was okay, as long as breathing wasn’t absolutely essential. He managed to choke out some words. “What did he say?”

  “He loves the idea,” she said simply. “He thinks you’re the best thing on two feet. Hagrid’s the best on four, of course. Oof!”

  He didn’t remember how it happened, exactly, but he was suddenly squeezing the breath out of her, making her laugh and hug him back in a blaze of bright, shining joy that threatened to lift the little house off its foundations and float all the way to Alaska.

  Fairness compelled him to double-check, though. “Are you sure? All the way to Alaska? I never thought . . .”

  “It’ll be an adventure,” she said firmly. “I’ll expand my artistic horizons and Pete can work some other climate zones into his epic novel. And we’ll be safe from . . . you know. They’re not going to hunt him down in Alaska. And, most important, we’ll be with you.”

  True.

  Of course, they’d have to discuss a wedding, or at least an engagement, but for now it was enough to hold her tight and feel happiness seep like a healing balm through every cell of his body.

  KIRK BROUGHT PETE to the firehouse with him to say goodbye. Maribel was training her replacement at the Lazy Daisy but sent along a few dozen farewell muffins, everything but bran. All the Bachelor Firemen and the newest female member of the crew, the pretty, turquoise-eyed Sabina Jones, gathered around to shake his hand, clap his shoulder, and offer hugs. After the milling and chattering had died down, Captain Brody cleared his throat for attention. Hagrid was at his feet; his ear already looked nearly healed. Pete dropped down to pet him and scratch his neck until his tail threatened to pound a groove into the floor.

  “The crew has voted. We all feel—unanimously—that the fairest thing to do with a dog as brave and fearless around fire as this one is to turn him into a firehouse dog. We checked with Gonzalez
in Colorado and he’s fine with it. So if it’s okay with you, Pete, we’d like to adopt Hagrid here at San Gabriel Station 1.”

  “Really?” Pete looked up from his mutual adoration-fest with Hagrid.

  “Yes. But I have to tell you, there’s a catch.”

  “What?”

  Kirk started to smile. He knew exactly what was coming.

  “According to tradition, every firehouse dog here at Station 1 has been named Constancia. After Constancia B. Sidwell.”

  “Ill-fated bride of Virgil Rush, who left him in the lurch and inspired our bachelor curse,” explained Ryan with a wink. “Which some of us call a blessing in disguise.”

  “Constancia? That’s a horrible name!” Pete cried, appalled. “He’s a boy, first of all.”

  “Good point. Besides, he just doesn’t look like a Constancia to me. It’s a bit old-fashioned. What do you say to the name Stan?”

  “Stan,” muttered Pete, stroking the dog’s floppy ear. “Good boy, Stan, good boy.” Hagrid/Z-boy/Stan cocked his head in answer. “That’s fine. He’s okay with Stan.”

  “Stan it is.”

  A cheer went up from the firefighters. Captain Brody smiled broadly. As Pete got to his feet, the captain clapped him on the shoulder. “You can visit him any time.”

  Ryan elbowed his way through the crowd. “You’ll probably hear about him on the news way before that.”

  “Why?” Pete asked. “Because he’s such a hero?”

  “No, not that. We’re going to spread it around that two dogs were at the scene and Stan slept through the fire. Throw off the arsonists. Nope, Stan’s going to be known as the official Bachelor Fire Dog of San Gabriel. Now he’ll never find a Mrs. Stan.”

  Sabina snorted and rolled her eyes. “You guys don’t really believe in that curse, do you?”

  Quiet descended.

  “Anyone else notice how Kirk didn’t hook up with Maribel until after he quit the department?” Vader said in a spooked voice.

  “Hey,” Kirk protested, with a quick glance at Pete. “We didn’t ‘hook up.’ We’re getting married.”