by Regina Kyle
“Can’t say I blame you. Might as well stick Florian with that one.” He grabbed the papers and handed them to her. “Here. Have at it. You might recognize a few of the names. Anything you book, we split fifty-fifty. Deal?”
“Deal.” She flipped through the stack. Hank was right. She did recognize a few of the names. More than a few. Earl Gibson, owner of the local grocery store, was looking for someone to photograph a surprise birthday party he was throwing for his wife. Maude wanted some new publicity shots for the diner. Even Jessie Pagano, who’d tortured Holly all through high school, needed a photographer for her son’s preschool graduation.
Okay, so maybe she’d pass that last one on to Florian, too.
Like Hank had said, the others were more of the same. Special occasions. Family reunions. Definitely not her typical fare. But the more she leafed through the pile, the more the idea appealed to her—capturing regular, everyday people at the happiest times of their lives, instead of moody models primped to the nines and posed for the camera.
What the heck? She’d be in Stockton for at least a few more weeks. She was usually done at the nursery by noon. She needed something to occupy the rest of her days besides counting down the hours until her next round between the sheets with Cade.
“I think I’ll start with this one.” She held up a slip of paper. “The mayor needs a new head shot.”
“Good choice.” Hank nodded. “I did her back when she was on the board of selectmen. She’s easy to work with.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “No one can be more difficult than a food-and-sleep-deprived swimsuit model forced to stand in forty-degree water to midthigh and keep her balance against strong waves and heavy wind.”
“You’d be surprised.” He pushed his chair back, pulled out the top drawer of his desk and hunted through the contents until he pulled out a key. “I suppose if we’re going to be working together you ought to have this. Then you can come and go as you please.”
“Thanks.” She took the key from him and slipped it into her pocket, making a mental note to add it to her key chain later. “You can trust me.”
“I wouldn’t have given you free rein if I didn’t.” He handed her the phone. “I’m going to head home, take some Motrin and fire up the heating pad. Let me know how you make out. And lock up when you’re done.”
With an awkward wave, he left. Ivy stood and surveyed the room. They’d rented a bigger space for the calendar shoot. Hank’s studio was small and somewhat cramped, but it had all the equipment she needed for indoor shots. Studio strobes. Light diffusers. Umbrellas. Reflectors. Tripods.
And of course she had her own trusty Nikon and enough lenses to cover pretty much every perspective, from wide angle to close up.
She ran a finger over one of the strobes. It came back covered in grime. She’d have to find where Hank kept his cleaning supplies and give the place a good going-over before she could even think about bringing clients in.
But first she had some phone calls to make.
* * *
CADE MOVED QUICKLY and efficiently through his locker, checking his gear. His turnout was ready to go, his helmet, flashlight and the face piece for his breathing apparatus all in place. He replaced the battery in his radio, making sure it was set on the dispatch channel, and went to the engine bay to check the rest of his breathing unit on the rig.
“Hardesty.” O’Brien, the engineer, stuck his head out of the driver’s window. “Nice of you to join us.”
“Us?” Cade looked around the engine bay. “You got multiple personalities or something? Because I don’t see anyone else in here.”
“Sykes and Hansen are restocking the ambulance. Guess C Company had a rough day. Three MVAs, a couple of miscellaneous medical calls and a structure fire.”
“Any fatalities?” Cade held his breath for the answer. In a suburb the size of Stockton, he was bound to know the victims, or at least know somebody who knew them. It was like that six-degrees-of-separation thing, only closer.
“No.” Even O’Brien had the decency to look relieved. Maybe he had a heart under his asshole exterior after all. “Just some minor injuries. Nothing life-threatening.”
“Well, let’s hope it’s a quiet night.”
Then maybe he could head over to Ivy’s after his shift. Had it only been a week since he’d showed up on her doorstep with his version of a fire safety kit? How was it that in that short time she’d become as essential to him as breathing?
“You got plans with your girlfriend? Presuming, of course, she doesn’t get her fat ass stuck in any more tight places.”
So much for the heart theory. The guy was not only a prick, he was a mind reader. Dangerous combination.
Cade ignored him and concentrated on prechecking his gear. As much as he wanted to pound O’Brien into next week, he wasn’t stupid enough to get caught fighting on duty and risk an automatic suspension.
“O’Brien.” Cappy’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Report to my office. Stat.”
Cade gave a long, low whistle. “Someone’s in trouble.”
“Or due for a promotion.” O’Brien jumped down from the cab and leaned against the side of the engine. “I took the lieutenant exam last month. Results must be in.”
He sneered at Cade, who was trying his hardest to focus on testing his regulator. “Looks like I’m going to be your superior, Hardesty. Think you can stomach calling me ‘sir’?”
“When hell freezes over.”
“When hell freezes over, sir,” O’Brien mocked over his shoulder as he strode out of the engine bay.
Cade shook his head and continued his preshift ritual. He’d transfer to another station before he’d work under O’Brien. Or maybe take the lieutenant exam himself. It was past time—way past time, if he was honest with himself. Cappy had been bugging him to take it for years. But Cade had always put it off, claiming he was too busy or too tired or just happy doing what he was doing and didn’t want the extra responsibility.
Bullshit.
Truth was, he was too damn scared of failing.
He’d made it through high school thanks to Gabe and Ivy, who’d tutored him in every subject from physics to precalculus. College had been a haze of football and frat parties, and he’d passed the firefighters exam by the narrowest of margins. On his second try.
No wonder he was such a disappointment to his academic parents. Mom with her books on French romantic poetry and Dad with his encyclopedic knowledge of the flora and fauna of North America. They’d both been tenured professors at Wesleyan before their “retirement” to North Carolina’s research triangle. Never mind that they worked as much now between adjunct teaching, book signings and speaking engagements as they did then.
But he wasn’t stupid, no matter what his parents thought. He’d aced the practical-skills part of his firefighter training. He just froze when it came to taking tests. The words seemed to swim across the page, and the more nervous he got, the worse it got. After talking with Nick, who’d gone public with his dyslexia, Cade had started to wonder if he might have a learning disability, too. And he’d never gotten the help he needed because his parents had been too preoccupied—or too proud—to notice.
But the Nelsons had always been there for him. Especially Gabe and Ivy. Maybe she’d help him study now, if she wasn’t off photographing supermodels in some exotic locale by the time the test rolled around again.
“Hey, Cade.” Sykes strolled into the engine bay, his constant companion Hansen at his heels, their arms filled with medical supplies. “Up for a cutthroat game of Uno after dinner?”
“Sure.” With one last glance at his gear, Cade closed the doors of the equipment compartment and turned his attention to the paramedics. He didn’t think he’d ever been so glad to see those two clowns in his life. Anything to keep his mind off Ivy and her inevitable departure.
“Need any help?” he asked. If Yin and Yang weren’t enough of a distraction, maybe stocking meds would do the trick.
“Nah.” Hansen swung open the rear doors of the ambulance. “We got it covered.”
“Then I think I’ll squeeze in a workout before dinner.” Cade pushed his shoulders back and rolled his neck. “Who’s cooking?”
“Cappy.” Sykes grimaced and climbed on board after his partner.
“I’ll chip in for pizza.” Hansen stuck his head out of the vehicle and waved a bill at Cade.
“Me, too.” Sykes followed suit.
“I’m in.” Cade collected the money and stuck it in his pocket. “Bacon and onion okay?”
“Fine by me.” Hansen disappeared back inside the rig.
“Me, too.” Sykes pulled another bill out of his wallet and handed it to Cade. “And get me a sausage-and-spinach calzone for later.”
Cade shook his head. The guy was a bottomless pit. How he stayed within the on-duty weight limit was a mystery. “No problem. I’ll call Valentino’s when I’m done working out.”
“Thanks, man.”
Sykes vanished after his partner, and Cade headed for the fitness room. He hadn’t gone two feet when the alarm sounded and Cappy’s voice boomed over the speaker again.
“Engine Five, Rescue One. Ten thirty-seven, Code two. Victim trapped in a drainage pipe at 71 East Main Street.”
Cade sprinted for his locker. Heavy footsteps told him Sykes and Hansen were close behind. They met O’Brien and Cappy and the rest of B Company, who were already pulling on their turnouts.
“71 East Main Street. Isn’t that the Bag ’n’ Feed?” Sykes asked.
Cade toed off his sneakers and stepped into his bunker pants. “How the hell does a person get stuck in the drain pipe at a convenience store?”
“It’s not a person,” Cappy informed him. “It’s a cat. Employees said they heard it in there a couple of days ago. They hoped it would work its way out, but no dice.”
“We’re dispatching an engine and an ambulance to rescue a fucking cat?” O’Brien stopped with one suspender hanging off his shoulder.
Cappy glared at him. “You got something better to do?”
O’Brien silently threaded his arm through the suspender into his gear.
“Anyone else got any complaints?” Cappy looked from man to man, his expression daring someone else to object.
“No, Cap,” they chimed.
“Good.” Cappy slammed his locker shut and jammed on his helmet. “Then let’s get moving. There’s a feline life at stake. And contrary to popular opinion, they don’t have nine.”
9
“ARE YOU SURE you’re okay?” Noelle stared at her sister across the kitchen table.
“That’s like the tenth time you’ve asked me that.” Ivy stabbed an asparagus spear with her fork. “And for the tenth time, I’m fine. You didn’t have to drive all the way up here to check on me. Unannounced.”
Thank goodness Cade was on duty tonight, although she was pretty sure he planned on swinging by after his shift. She’d texted him to keep right on going if he saw Noelle’s MINI Cooper in the driveway.
“Yeah, I kind of did.” Noelle looked at her own, barely touched plate of food as if the grilled chicken, brown rice and mixed vegetables were her mortal enemies. “Mom made me promise.”
“Mom?” Ivy froze, her fork halfway to her mouth.
Noelle cut off the teeny tiniest bit of chicken and nibbled at it. “She said you’d been acting strange lately. Forgetting stuff at the nursery. Mixing up deliveries. Ordering the wrong seeds.”
It figured their mother was involved. Nothing got past her. Especially not the way Ivy had been walking around with her head in the clouds for the past week. Not that she was admitting that to Noelle.
“Honest mistakes. I haven’t worked the sales floor in years. A lot has changed. It takes a little getting used to.” Ivy bit off the top of the asparagus spear. “Anyway, I hired a part-timer to cover afternoons and weekends, so I can concentrate on opening in the mornings and doing the books. And keep up with Hank’s slack.”
She’d done her first gig, the mayor’s publicity shots, the day after Hank had handed over his contacts. It had gone great, as had the other jobs she’d covered that week: a family portrait, a sweet sixteen and a ribbon-cutting ceremony at the local hospital.
What she’d told Hank had proved right ten times over. It was a lot more fun—and rewarding—taking photos of normal, happy people doing normal, happy stuff. Sure, it was still hard work, running around, bending, crouching, contorting herself into all sorts of strange positions to get the right camera or lighting angle. And yeah, there was plenty of drama at the sweet sixteen with something like fifty girls fighting over the handful of boys in attendance. But it was nothing compared to the hissy fit one model threw when she was served the wrong brand of mineral water. Or the time a Sports Illustrated cover girl walked off set just because Ivy asked her to remove her belly-button ring.
“An extra pair of hands is nice, and it’s sweet that you’re helping Hank,” Noelle said, cutting into Ivy’s thoughts. “But that’s all beside the point.”
“And what is the point, exactly?”
“The point is you’re distracted.” Noelle paused for dramatic effect, using the time to eat a few grains of rice. “Mom thinks you’re seeing someone.”
Ivy almost choked on her chicken. “Aside from the people at the nursery and my photography clients, the insides of my eyelids when I fall into bed at the end of the day are about all I’m seeing.”
“You know what I mean.” Noelle put her fork down and tented her hands under her chin. “She thinks you’re hot and heavy with some guy.”
“Mom’s words?”
“Close enough.”
“Has she checked out the available dating pool in this town? There’s not exactly a bumper crop of eligible males.”
“That’s what I told her.” Noelle drummed her fingers together. “But she’s pretty insistent. Says she knows when one of her bambini is ready to take the plunge.”
“The plunge?”
“Fall in love.” Noelle let a wistful half smile creep onto her face, and Ivy wondered if she wasn’t the only one hiding something. “All Mom’s words this time.”
“Then why isn’t she having this conversation with me?”
“She figured you’d talk more freely to your baby sister.”
“She figured wrong.” Ivy stood and started to clear the table. “Want some coffee? I won’t bother to ask about dessert.”
“Nice change of subject, but you’re not getting out of this that easy.” Noelle fished something out of her Birkin bag and held it up between her fingertips. “And I brought my own herbal tea.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Ivy grabbed the kettle off the stove and filled it with water.
“My trainer says it cleanses my system and supports my body’s natural defenses.” Noelle sat back in her chair and crossed her long, dancer’s legs, clearly settling in for the long haul. “But back to you and your mystery man.”
“There is no mystery man.” Ivy clanged the kettle back down on the stove and turned on the burner.
“Mom says otherwise. And her romance radar is never wrong. She called it with Holly and Nick. She even pegged Gabe and Devin, and no one saw that coming.”
“Well, she’s wrong this time.” Ivy picked up the remote for the thirteen-inch, flat-screen TV mounted under the cabinet by the sink. “Mind if I turn on the news? They’re doing a piece on the mayor’s new community parks initiative, and they’re going to use the head shot I took for her.”
She hit the power button and flicked to the local news channel, but instead of the mayor the screen showed a group of rescue workers huddled around a hole in what looked like the parking lot of the Bag ’n’ Feed. Then the screen flashed and the picture changed to a shot of one of the workers being carried off on a stretcher.
It was a worker in turnout gear with a familiar head of dirty blond hair, now matted to his forehead, and blue eyes, usually dancing with mischief, hard and flat with pain.
“Hey.” Noelle stood and came up behind Ivy for a closer look at the TV. “Isn’t that Cade? Turn up the volume.”
Ivy didn’t—couldn’t—move.
Noelle snatched the remote from her and pumped up the volume several levels.
“A seemingly innocuous rescue turned dangerous today at the Bag ’n’ Feed on East Main Street. Crews were working to free a kitten from a drainage pipe outside the store when a firefighter was struck by a drunk driver. Onlookers say the firefighter was injured when he pushed several bystanders out of the car’s path. No names have been released, but sources say both the driver and the firefighter were taken to St. Raphael’s Hospital for treatment. The cat was eventually freed and is recuperating at the Stockton Animal Clinic, which has already received a number of adoption requests.”
“Who cares about the cat?” Ivy screamed at the television. “What about Cade?”
“So that was him.” Noelle grabbed the cordless phone off the counter.
“What are you doing?” Ivy asked, her voice rising several notches to a pitch she was pretty sure only dogs could hear. How could her sister stay so calm with Cade hurt, maybe seriously?
“Calling the hospital. Hopefully they can tell us something about Cade’s condition.”
“Screw that. I’m going over there.” Ivy pushed past her sister, turned off the stove and hunted for her purse. Where had she left the damned thing? She could have sworn she’d seen it somewhere.
“Oh. My. God. Mom was right.” Noelle followed Ivy into the living room. “There is a guy. Cade.”
“We’re friends. That’s all.” Ivy found her bag behind the couch and fished out her keys.
“Give me a little credit, Ivy.” Noelle tossed the cordless phone onto the sofa. “You’ve had a thing for him since you were in diapers. Who could blame you for finally making your move?”
“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you about this now. Are you coming with me or not?”
“Oh, I’m coming with you, all right.” Noelle plucked Ivy’s keys out of her hand. “In fact, I’m driving.”