by Amy Knupp
It’d been raining all day, but Joe took no heed of the steady downpour. In fact, he welcomed it. Maybe he could drown his thoughts.
Faith had been upset by him “defending” her, but if she had any notion of the things that had gone through his mind in the past forty-five minutes…
He shook his head and picked up his already burning pace.
It wasn’t just her beauty and her fit body that got to him. It was her sheer competence. Her confidence and drive. The way she didn’t let naysayers get in her way. He admired her determination to earn the respect of her new colleagues.
He appreciated her desire to do it on her own. Totally understood her stance. However, as he’d told her, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t interfere again. When he’d heard Nate’s veiled chauvinistic comment, he’d jumped in involuntarily.
He couldn’t do that again. He’d meant what he’d told her about adhering to his duties, but defending her earlier had come as naturally as scratching to a dog. There hadn’t been any thought involved. His reaction had been on a basic, elemental, man-looking-after-woman level.
There was nothing to do but admit it—and only to himself. Faith Peligni was one of the sexiest, most intriguing women he’d ever met. And he was in a position where nothing could ever happen between them.
Not after her father had asked him to look out for her.
Not if he had any hope of retaining the fire chief’s trust—and having a chance in hell at a promotion.
CHAPTER FOUR
FAITH HAD BEEN IGNORING the state of the Peligni family home for the two months she’d been back in town recuperating.
But when she drove up in her Subaru, frazzled and grumpy from braving the beginning of the spring break influx at the grocery store, she couldn’t help noticing that the bushes, once neatly manicured, were shaggy and unkempt. The lawn, though only a square patch of grass on this side of the house, was overgrown. A broken-down charcoal grill sat to the left of the driveway.
She pulled into the garage, leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes. Her dad had always been a fanatic about the yard. Her oldest brother, Will, used to joke that their dad carried around a ruler, and when the grass hit two inches, he fired up the mower.
That was before. When their family was still intact. When her mom still lived here. Before her dad had started sinking into what Faith suspected could be depression.
She realized her hand was clutched so tightly around her keys that they were digging into her palm. Groaning in frustration, she climbed out and popped open the back.
She didn’t mind grocery shopping for her and her dad. It was a lot easier than when the seven of them had been home at once and the trip would cost several hundred dollars. Their mom had always taken one child with her to the store, and the rest of the siblings had mobbed the car upon its return, helping to carry in the goods and then rummaging through them and snacking before anything could be put away.
Today, no one came out to greet her. Not that she needed assistance—there were only two paper bags stuffed with food. But the quiet, on top of the neglected state of the property, brought her down. Made her long for Peligni family chaos. Or at the very least, her old dad back. She needed to call Paul and Will tonight to fill them in on their father’s state, sure, but also just to hear their voices.
As she made her way up the interior stairs to the main level of the house, she realized she was stomping her feet on each wooden step.
Where was this anger coming from?
She sympathized with her dad and had a hard time blaming him for being sad and out of sorts. Her mom had left him. Given up on their marriage after almost forty years, supposedly because of his dedication to his job. Nita had resented it for years, but no one in the family had ever thought it would come to her leaving.
So why, when Faith spotted her dad on the plaid sofa in the living room asleep—again—did she want to throw something? Wake him up with a crash?
She set the bags down on the kitchen counter and breathed slowly, summoning her patience. When she turned around, a photo on the top shelf of the baker’s rack caught her eye. The whole family, taken three years ago at Christmas.
Everyone wore button-down denim shirts and everyone looked happy. Lou, who’d actually managed to get leave that coincided with the holidays that year. Paul and Will, the two oldest and brainiest Pelignis, who lived on either coast and didn’t make it home often enough. Even Anthony, Faith’s self-centered brother who usually had an excuse for everything, had made the relatively short trip home from Dallas. Her dad smiled widely. Her mom, too… Was it just a facade? How long had she been contemplating leaving? Faith wondered, not for the first time, whether her dad had had any inkling a separation was coming.
Her anger didn’t go away, but it was no longer aimed at her father. He was the one who’d had his marriage ripped out from under him, who’d been hurt to the core. She was the only person he had to help him through it, since she hadn’t been able to convince her brothers there was anything they could do to keep their parents together. It was up to her to be there for their dad—to sympathize, sure, but also to give him tough love when he needed it. Like now. He had to stop sleeping all the time.
“Dad?” She slipped her shoes off and walked quietly across the ceramic tile floor. “Dad. You have to wake up now.”
He rolled over, from his side to his back. Snorted. Continued to slumber on. In the past, he’d been a super-light sleeper from years of being awakened by the alarm at the station, or so he always said.
“Dad, wake up. It’s after one o’clock and I bet you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”
He woke with a start and sputtered, “What? What’s wrong, princess?”
She sat on the edge of the sofa by his feet. “Nothing’s wrong. You just need to get up and eat.”
He looked around, dazed, then sat up slowly. “I could eat, I guess.”
“Did you have any lunch while I was gone?” She knew the answer, but asked anyway.
Her dad checked his watch and shook his head. “Didn’t realize it was so late. What are we going to eat?”
“I picked up a rotisserie chicken and some potato salad. Let’s go get it ready.”
Faith went into the kitchen, decorated with South-western style, but her dad moved more slowly. She started unpacking groceries and setting out their food on the oversize table that used to hold the whole family, trying not to think how inconceivable it would’ve been for her dad to forget a meal just a few months ago.
“Smells good,” he said when he entered the less-than-tidy kitchen. “What can I do?”
“Grab us some drinks from the fridge.”
A few minutes later, they sat at the table filling their plates.
“So how’s the job going so far?” Tony asked as he served himself potato salad.
“Pretty good. Just learning how you do things here.”
“Any problems?”
Nate’s obnoxious face flashed in her mind and she blocked it out. He was a problem, sure, but nothing she couldn’t handle on her own. Tattling wasn’t her thing, anyway.
“Nope. Everything’s fine. A little bit slow…”
“This isn’t San Antonio, Faith. Never will be. You prepared to handle the less exciting shifts?”
“Yeah, it just takes a little getting used to. It makes it easier to fit in PT, though.”
Her mind wandered to her workout yesterday. Joe’s interruption. The way just the sight of him had distracted her from her routine.
“How’s Joe treating you?”
She started. Had she said his name aloud? No. Idiot. It was a normal question. She just had a guilty conscience….
“He’s okay, I guess.” She took a bite of white meat and chewed. “Actually, he hovers. I don’t think he trusts me.”
“I’m sure he does, princess.”
She shook her head. “No matter what I’m doing, he shows up to check on me. Tries to help when I don’t need it. He’s not like that wi
th anyone else.”
“It’s his job.”
“To babysit? It’s a fire station, Dad, not a day care.”
A more perceptive person might suggest she protested too much, and that person would probably be right. For once, she was thankful her dad wasn’t at the top of his game.
“Joe’s a good guy. If you ever need anything, you can trust him. He’ll look out for you.”
Faith closed her eyes and set down her fork. “I don’t need anyone looking out for me.”
“You’re new, Faith. Don’t be so hardheaded. If someone wants to be nice, accept it.”
She didn’t respond immediately. Took a drink of cold milk instead.
“You don’t get it, Dad. I can’t afford to have an officer bending over backward to help me. I’m a woman in a man’s job, fighting off perceptions that I’m the weak link every single second I’m on the clock.” Her volume remained level, though she snapped out the words.
“Don’t get upset. I know you can handle the job. There’s no doubt in my mind you’re as good as those men, better than a lot of them.”
“How can I not get upset?” Now she got louder. “My own mother suggested I sleep with the captain to get ahead.”
“She did what?”
Faith shook her head. “Never mind. She thought she was being funny. I’m just sick of having to prove myself to everyone, including my family.”
“Faith.” He reached across the table and held his palm out toward hers until she returned the gesture. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me. Ever. But I will always worry about you.” His voice was thick with emotion. Affection.
Faith couldn’t help but be touched by his words. Her response got caught in her throat. It took a lot for her dad to show his feelings so openly, and once again, her irritation dissipated.
“I’ll be fine.”
He seemed flustered for a moment. Inhaled shakily. “If anything ever happened to you again, Faith, anything worse than last time, I don’t know if I could survive it.”
That did it. Tears filled her eyes. She fought them hard, refusing to let them spill over. For several seconds, she didn’t dare breathe, afraid of losing it. Surreptitiously, she wiped the corners of her eyes and blinked hard until she thought she could speak.
“I’ll do the best I can, Dad. But you have to let me do it my own way.”
“I THINK WE’VE GOT something.”
The words were nonchalant, but Joe’s tone was laced with a restrained excitement Faith hadn’t heard from him before.
The engine sped toward a hotel on the shore. Something meant a fire. A real one, not a trash fire that could be knocked out in less than ten minutes.
Adrenaline pumped through Faith’s system. This was her first big fire since her injury in San Antonio.
Joe confirmed again that this one was business, and she angled herself a little in the back-facing seat to look at him as she adjusted one of her boots. He leaned forward slightly, eyes sparking with life as they skipped from Derek, who was driving, to the dark smoke a few blocks ahead of them.
He loves every bit of this, Faith thought to herself. Like a little boy loves seeing the big rigs speed by with sirens blaring and lights flashing. It didn’t surprise her, because most people in her profession lived for the challenge of a large fire. But Joe was normally so cool and collected in the station that his tangible excitement made her smile.
As they arrived on the scene, Joe hollered orders to their crew. He jumped out of the rig and located the battalion chief in charge, while Faith, Penn and Derek worked at the truck, getting equipment ready.
The hotel was medium-size, made up of multiple structures. The involved building was six stories high. Acrid smoke filled the air and flames showed on the second and third floors.
Joe came back with more specific directions for the crew. Penn was on the nozzle, Faith with him. Without a word, they hooked up the appropriate hose to the engine and made their way to the entrance at the end of the building that Joe had indicated.
Penn glanced over his shoulder at her with a questioning look and she nodded, but her heart hammered uncharacteristically out of control. She tried to ignore it.
He headed inside and Faith, holding on to the hose, followed—until she was just inside the door.
She froze.
The scene was status quo for a seasoned firefighter. The smoke was so thick she could barely see a foot in front of her, the temperature already climbing. Her partner continued on, but Faith couldn’t force her feet to move for anything.
Her chest tightened and a scream climbed in her throat. She couldn’t seem to get air into her lungs, and she checked again to make sure her breathing apparatus was functioning. It was.
She glanced up and couldn’t see the ceiling. Then she noticed how hard she was breathing—for no reason.
You’re losing it, Faith. Get a hold of yourself.
With effort, she slowed her respirations, closing her eyes. Gradually the need to crawl out of her skin receded, and she realized if this wasn’t a heart attack, it must be some kind of anxiety thing. Whatever it was, it sucked.
The hose in her hands was yanked forward, jolting her back to the fire and the very real need to get moving. What was she doing, standing here like a probie at her first fire?
Faith reassured herself that no one had witnessed her freak-out moment. Not that anyone could see in this smoke, anyway. She hesitated again, then swore at herself and moved ahead to catch up with Penn, praying he hadn’t missed her yet. If anyone found out she’d flaked, there was no hope of ever overcoming her reputation as the chief’s daughter and a charity case.
HOURS LATER, Faith poured water down her bone-dry throat, surveying the fire site to estimate how much longer cleanup would take. Maybe another half hour if they were lucky.
This whole end of the resort hotel was a loss, but they’d managed to stop the fire from jumping to the other buildings. Two companies from the mainland had been called in as well, and injuries had been few and minor.
Fatigue weighed Faith down as she squatted next to the truck, leaning her back against it, finishing her drink. Ten hours was a long fight, but you never really noticed how wiped you were until afterward, when the adrenaline stopped and salvage and overhaul wound down. Once the flames were doused, the firefighters had spent time rehashing the situation as they carried out anything that could be saved, trading stories of what they’d encountered, one-upping to see who’d ended up having the best assignment. Silently questioning if they’d done the right things, made the right decisions. If there was anything they could’ve done better.
Faith’s self-critique was easy tonight—she’d blown it. Oh, sure, she’d gotten her act together and done okay in the end. But walking into that burning building and locking up…
Unforgivable.
And the biggest problem was she wasn’t sure it wouldn’t happen the next time they got called to a big fire.
No one had noticed, but that didn’t change a thing. She knew.
Derek Severson and Clay Marlow rested several feet from Faith, still talking as they rehydrated. She stood and disposed of her water bottle. She had a policy of never being the last person back from taking a break.
A few minutes later, the crews had removed as much as they could from the interior and ensured there were no remaining hot spots. Faith noticed a couple hundred feet of hose from their engine that had to be loaded. She headed over and started rolling it, though every muscle in her body was beginning to ache. She was starting to fantasize about falling into bed; it was after 2:00 a.m. and would be a short night, anyway.
She stood and was lifting the first roll of hose to take to the engine when a pain near her collarbone nearly flattened her. She sat down hard, dropped the hose on the ground, muttering swear words to herself.
When she could breathe again, she glanced around, trying to act as if nothing was wrong.
Dammit… Joe was standing near the engine and staring straight a
t her. If the concern on his face was any indication, he’d seen everything.
She was afraid to stand up again because it freaking hurt. Another jab of pain, on top of her exhaustion, was liable to make her cry like a girl. Instead, she busied herself with the hose, trying to make it appear as if it wasn’t rolled quite right and needed to be fixed.
“Faith.” Joe loomed over her in the chilly night.
“Yes, sir.” She didn’t look up at him, just worked intently on the nonexistent problem.
He squatted next to her. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing the hose.”
“The hose is fine.”
Finally she glanced up at him.
“You hurt yourself,” he said in a gentle, low voice so no one could overhear. She was eternally grateful for his discretion.
“Not really,” she said, giving up on the hose act.
“I saw you, Faith. Don’t insult me by lying.”
When she looked into those concerned dark eyes, she couldn’t continue to deny it. But she could understate it.
“It was my collarbone. Just a sharp, brief pain, but it’s over now.” Which was the truth. So far. “Long day, I guess.”
He watched her closely for several seconds, as if gauging whether she was leveling with him.
“Do we need to have Scott or Rafe check you out?” he asked, gesturing over his shoulder to the ambulance.
“No,” she said quickly. “Really. It didn’t hurt until just now. I must have twisted wrong as I stood up.”
He wasn’t convinced, Faith could tell. So to persuade him, she had no choice but to stand and prove she was fine.
She picked up the hoses, swallowed and braced herself. This time she rose more slowly. And yeah, the pain was there, but not as bad. She fought through it, refusing to let it show on her face. Because, of course, he was still staring at her.
He brushed her wrist in a touch that was probably not professional, judging by the way it got Faith’s heart racing. Before she could scold herself for her reaction, he spoke—again quietly, so no one could hear. “Don’t be stubborn, Faith. Let me carry one of those. You don’t want to reinjure yourself.”