by Claire Adams
I could feel the cat struggling to draw a breath now, so I quickly retraced my steps and exited the house in a dead run toward the medics. I handed the cat over and headed back into the house where I saw that something had ignited in the living room. The flames had spread across the front of the house, and I had a bad feeling as I pulled my mask down and ran headlong back into the building.
“Tony! Cal! Get your asses in here with the hose!” I shouted, as I looked around the room and saw a space heater still plugged into the wall sparking and smoking. “NOW, Goddamm it! Get in here now!”
The heater was on its side, still running, and I could see that the curtain next to it had started to smoke. I knew better than to get anywhere near it since it contained oil and could explode at any second. Instead, I grabbed the quilt off the back of the couch, and from a distance, tossed it onto the heater, covering it as much as I could. When Tony and Cal hit the living room, I grabbed the hose and aimed the water at the quilt, soaking it completely before I ran over and yanked the plug out of the outlet.
The danger averted, we hosed the rest of the interior of the house down and made sure that the fire hadn’t climbed up into the walls. The guys on the roof had hacked holes in it and vented the building. I knew that the entire place would have to be torn down, and as we packed up our gear, I felt sympathy for the homeowner.
I looked around and saw the blonde woman standing near the ambulance as the medics held a mask on her now very angry cat. I walked over to find out if the cat would be okay, and was surprised when the woman turned around.
“Ms. Fowler!” I said. “I had no idea it was your house. I’m so sorry we couldn’t save it.”
“You saved Howard,” she said, as tears ran down her cheeks. “That’s the only thing that matters to me. Thank you.”
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked, as I watched her wipe away the tears with the back of her hand.
“They said he’s going to need to be in the oxygen tent at the vet’s for a few days, but he should make a full recovery,” she said, as she cast a glance at the charred remains of her home.
“What about you?” I asked. “Do you have a place to stay? Family?”
“Oh, I’ll go with Howard and then figure something out,” she said, smiling weakly as a couple of Red Cross volunteers stood off to one side waiting to speak with her. “It’ll be fine. I need to call the insurance company and find out what to do. But thank you for asking, Mr. Gaston.”
“Blake, please call me Blake,” I said.
“I’m Emily,” she said, holding out her hand. “Thank you for saving him, Blake. He’s an ornery little guy, but he’s all I’ve got.”
“I’m glad we could do something good in spite of all of this,” I said, gesturing to the smoking building.
“Your guys are waiting for you,” she said, nodding at the engine that sat idling in the street with the door open.
“I’d better go,” I said, turning toward the truck. I walked a few steps before I turned and said, “Do you need a ride somewhere after you take care of him?”
“I can call a cab,” she said, waving me off. “It’s all good. But thanks.”
The whole ride back to the station, I couldn’t stop thinking about how small Emily had looked compared to the day I’d met her for the conference. At the conference, she’d been in charge of the discussion and had played into all of the “hot teacher” fantasies I’d had as a high school boy. Today, she looked lost and alone, and I wondered where she was going to go and why there was no one to come pick her up from the vet’s.
By the time we pulled into the station, I’d made up my mind about what I was going to do as soon as I got off shift. Back in the locker room, I grabbed my things, wished everyone a Merry Christmas, and headed straight for my truck.
Chapter Fourteen
Emily
I stared out the back window as the ambulance pulled away from the smoking remains of my home. Everything I owned had been inside. I’d managed to grab a coat and my purse before I’d run out of the house, and the Red Cross volunteers had given me a small amount of cash and a voucher for three nights in a local motel. Unfortunately, I’d left my phone on the coffee table, and I was pretty sure that it had been destroyed by either fire or water.
The EMTs had suggested that they drive Howard and me to the closest vet clinic so that I could get Howard checked out. He wasn’t happy about the fact that the EMT was struggling to keep an oxygen mask over his face, but he wasn’t fighting very hard, and I knew that wasn’t a good thing.
At the clinic, the techs whisked Howard from the arms of the EMT and took him back to the treatment area as the receptionist directed me to the waiting area. She brought me a cup of coffee and said that the doctor would be out as soon as they’d assessed Howard’s injuries. I nodded and sat down in a corner chair.
The quiet struck me as odd until I remembered that this was Christmas morning, and that the rest of Waltham was most likely gathering around their trees to begin their celebrations. A wave of grief flowed through my body, causing me to set my coffee down before resting my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands as I cried quietly.
“Ms. Fowl—Emily?” a familiar voice cut through my sadness. “Are you okay, Emily?”
“Huh?” I said, looking up to find Blake Gaston standing in front of me holding a cup of coffee, a white bag with the word Patisserie on the side, and my cell phone. I looked at the offerings and then back up at him. “Where did you find that? What are you doing here?”
“I saw it on the table and grabbed it before the guys sprayed the room. I don’t know if it works. Mostly I wanted to check on you and see how Howard is doing,” he said, continuing to hold the food and drink out. “I didn’t think you’d have gotten breakfast.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking the cup and the bag from him.
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked, looking around the waiting room.
“No, please, have a seat,” I said, as I set the coffee down and opened the bag. Inside were a large chocolate éclair and two glazed donuts. I took a donut and offered the bag to him after he’d sat down next to me.
“No, I’m good,” he said, shaking his head. Thinking he was just being polite, I held the bag out until he sheepishly admitted, “Actually, I ate three of those suckers on the way over, and I’m a little full now.”
I laughed as I bit into the sugar-covered circle of fried dough and chewed thoughtfully.
“How’s Howard doing?” he asked, as he avoided my gaze.
“Good,” I said with a mouthful of donut. I picked up the coffee and drank before speaking again. “The techs are with him now, and they said the doctor will come out as soon as she’s examined him.”
“How are you doing?” he asked, looking over at me. I swallowed hard and looked away.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, trying to keep my tone light as the reality of the situation began to settle in. I inhaled sharply and looked down as I fought back tears. I set the coffee cup down as he spoke again.
“Seriously, how are you doing?” he asked, as he slid an arm around the back of my chair and leaned in closer. “You don’t have to fake it with me. I was there. I saw your house.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I whispered, as I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around my waist and choking back a sob. The bag of pastries fell off my lap, and a donut rolled across the floor. Blake reached out and grabbed it before kneeling down in front of me.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he reassured me, as he rested a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all going to be all right.”
“You don’t know that!” I cried. “My cat is hurt, and I just lost my home! And on Christmas!”
Blake wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me close as he rubbed my back and repeated over and over that everything was going to be okay. I remained tense and closed off as he rocked me slowly and murmured reassurances. Slowly, I relaxed into his embrace, and after a few minutes, I wrapped my arms
around his neck and cried into his shoulder as he held me.
“Ms. Fowler?” the tech called from the door. “You can come see your boy now.”
“He’s alive?” I asked through tears, as I lifted my face from Blake’s shoulder.
“Oh goodness, yes!” the tech laughed. “He’s a little singed in places, and he inhaled a good deal of smoke, so his voice is a little ragged, but he’s mad as hell, and I’m pretty sure he wants to see his person.”
“That’s Howard,” I said, nodding as I wiped the tears from my face and took a deep breath. Blake stood up and offered me a hand.
“I’ll just wait out here,” he said. I nodded and followed the tech to the back of the clinic, where Howard sat inside a large wall cage staring angrily at the wall and growling anytime someone walked by.
“Hey you, why are you so mad?” I asked quietly. At the sound of my voice, Howard whipped his head around and began mewing pathetically. That set off another wave of tears, as the tech unlatched the door to the cage and let me reach in and pick my scared cat up and hold him in my arms. Much like I’d done with Blake, Howard rested his head on my shoulder and mewed softly as I held him to my chest whispering, “You scared the hell out of me, fat man! Why didn’t you come when I called?”
The doctor came over and gave me the rundown on Howard’s condition, telling me that it was probably best if he stayed in the clinic overnight so that they could monitor the effects of the smoke he’d inhaled. If all of the readings were normal by tomorrow morning, I could take him home with me. I nodded and thanked her as the tech came over to administer Howard’s medications. He protested weakly as I put him back in the cage, but the tech gave him a pain shot, and soon he was asleep.
Back out in the waiting area, Blake sat thumbing through an old copy of Sports Illustrated. He gave me a questioning look, and I nodded.
“Okay, good, he’s going to be all right,” he said, as I sat down next to him. “Do you have someplace to go? Family? Friends? I’m happy to drop you off.”
“I…I…I don’t know where I’m going to go,” I said quietly, before I began crying again. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s all good,” he said, draping an arm around my shoulder. “Why don’t I take you back to my house and you can get a shower and something to eat, then we’ll figure out what to do next?”
“Are you sure?” I asked tearfully.
“Absolutely,” he said, standing up and offering me a hand. “Let’s get you a shower and some breakfast, and then we’ll figure out what to do after that.”
An hour later, I emerged from a steamy shower to find that Blake had left a well-worn flannel shirt, sweats, and a pair of wool socks for me on his bed. He’d taken my soot-stained clothes and tossed them in the wash, and when I emerged from the bedroom, I’d found him singing along to Christmas carols as he flipped pancakes and tended to the bacon that was under the broiler.
“How about a nice, hot cup of coffee?” he asked, as he passed me a steaming mug and gestured to the cream and sugar sitting on the counter.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I said, as I added cream and sugar before taking a sip. “But thank you.”
“No problem at all,” he said, as he hummed along with Johnny Mathis. “I’d hate to see you spending the day alone. Speaking of which, if you’re up for it, you’re welcome to accompany me to my parents’ for a Christmas Day celebration the likes of which has never been seen.”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…” I said, trailing off as I imagined the way my own family would deal with having a stranger suddenly thrust into the family gathering. I shuddered to think of how my mother would give someone the cold shoulder, and couldn’t imagine how I’d cope with that after everything that had happened today.
“Nonsense, my family would welcome the opportunity,” he said, flipping several pancakes onto a plate before pulling the bacon out of the oven and transferring it to a waiting paper towel. “But I have to warn you that they’re all a little crazy.”
“In what way?” I asked hesitantly. Blake set the plate down in front of me and motioned to the butter and syrup.
“Eat up, there’s plenty more where these came from,” he urged, as I returned to the stove. “My family is crazy in the way that people who teach for a living are crazy, so you’ll probably do all right with them.”
“So, you think teachers are crazy?” I laughed, as I spread a thick layer of butter on the top pancake and then doused the stack in maple syrup. I snuck a quick peek at him as he stood at the stove, and couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles in his back and arms rippled as he moved. I felt the familiar twinge of desire that had dogged me ever since our first meeting, and quickly looked away before it turned into something more urgent.
“No, just my family of teachers,” he said, as he pulled the pan off the stove and made a show of flipping each pancake into the air and catching in the pan. The last one landed on top of the first and I burst out laughing. Blake shrugged as he slid the spatula under both and flipped the messy stack into the trash can. He grinned at me as he said, “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
By the time he’d finished making all the pancakes, I felt like I was going to burst. He sat down and dug into a stack as I watched him eat. He told me about the party at the station the night before, and regaled me with imitations of the various firefighters and community members. Some of them I recognized, but most were strangers to me. What was obvious was that he had a great love for his job and his community, and it made him even more attractive.
He’d showered, but he hadn’t yet shaved, and the stubble on his face gave him a slightly wild and dangerous appearance. I tried not to stare at him, but when he looked up at me and held my gaze as he drank from the mug that said “World’s #1 Dad,” I felt like I’d been caught. I quickly averted my eyes and stared down into the mug I still held in my hands.
“Want more coffee?” he asked, as he leaned back and reached for the pot. I nodded, and he refilled my cup and topped off his own. “So, you think you might want to join me?”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” I said, as I looked up into his warm brown eyes.
“Don’t be silly; it’s really not a bother,” he smiled, as he reached out and brushed something from the sleeve of my shirt. “Besides, my father will love being able to try and stump the historian, and my mother always makes way more food than we can eat. You’d be doing us all a favor, really.”
“Well, if it’s a favor,” I laughed. “How can I turn that down? I mean, beggars without houses can’t really be choosers, now can they?”
Blake leaned back in his chair and let out a long, loud laugh, which made me laugh harder. He leaned forward and started to say something, but couldn’t get it out before he started laughing again.
“Lady, you’re hilarious,” he said, when he finally regained the ability to speak. “Now, let me see if your clothes are dry and then we can get ready to go.”
“Oh God, I don’t have anything decent to wear to Christmas dinner!” I cried, as he walked to the laundry room to retrieve my clothes.
“Eh, don’t stress, my family does not dress up,” he said. “In fact, if my mother can’t blackmail my father into putting on a pair of jeans, he’ll most likely be wearing sweats and his favorite Notre Dame sweatshirt.”
“Oh, okay,” I nodded, as I took the warm clothing from him, feeling a jolt of electricity pass through me as our hands touched. I quickly headed back to the spare bedroom to change. I could hear Blake in the next room and wondered what he’d do if he knew how much I wanted to touch him.
“Emily, you ready?” Blake said, as he tapped on the door.
“Almost!” I called, as I pulled on my shirt and jeans. I fluffed my hair and wondered if I should pull it up or leave it down as I lamented the fact that I had no makeup, or anything else. The tears welled up as the magnitude of what had happened hit me, and I sunk down on the bed with my
head in my hands.
“Emily? Are you okay?” Blake called. When I didn’t respond, he carefully cracked open the door and stuck his head into the room. I was doubled over, holding back the sobs that threatened to pull me under. He sat down next to me and put his arms around me without saying a word. I turned and buried my face in his chest as the wave of grief knocked me over, and I began to cry harder than I’d ever cried before.
Blake tightened his arms around me and rocked me gently as I cried. He began to hum as he rubbed my back and stroked my head, and soon, my gut-wrenching sobs began to subside. The smell of his clean but musky cologne made me want to bury my face in his neck and inhale deeply, so I tipped my head and did just that. I heard Blake inhale sharply.
“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, as I lifted my face and looked up at him. Our eyes locked and I held my breath as I waited for what would happen next.
Blake leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. It was a soft kiss, one that was testing the waters to see where to go next, and it made every nerve in my body spring to life. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me again. This time the kiss was harder, and I responded with an urgency that let him know he was headed in the right direction.
He leaned back on the bed and pulled me onto his chest as he ran his fingers through my hair. I melted into his arms as our kiss intensified. He traced my upper lip with the tip of his tongue, eliciting a soft moan from the back of my throat. I reached down and tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he held me against his body as he sat up enough to let me pull it up. Frantically, we stripped each other’s clothes off, searching for the bare skin that lay beneath them.
Blake groaned as I straddled him before bending to run my tongue up the side of his neck. I pushed away the doubt that nipped at the outer edges of my mind as I reached down and guided him between my legs. He gave me a questioning look that I silenced with one swift downward motion. He groaned as I began rocking back and forth, his hands sliding over my naked skin as I covered his lips with mine.