“It’s okay. I don’t have anything to hide. My parents were in their forties when they had me. I grew up on a working farm near Flower Mound, and when my mother died of MS about ten years ago, Dad kept the farm going anyway. I joined the Marines at eighteen and loved it.”
“Even with war going on?”
“The war is awful. But I fit the Marines. I fit the discipline. I was pretty aimless as a kid and had a little bit of ADD. The Marines straightened that out and gave me a focus. I liked the brotherhood, too. Dad started slowing down a little with age. Then…” His throat worked, as if he wasn’t sure if he could form the words. “I’d decided by then I’d come back to Texas and help Dad because he needed it. I’d processed out of the Marines and was leaving California when I got a call from Dad that changed everything.”
The sorrow in his tone filled her, and she felt it deep inside her.
He continued. “Lightning started a wildfire near the farm. He tried to outrun it and he called me while he was in his truck. He crashed and was killed instantly.”
She touched his hand again. Squeezed it gently. “Oh, my God. Greg, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded and took a shuddering breath. “Yeah, I’m still working through it. The only solace I’ve got is that Dad didn’t suffer in the fire. I wished I’d been there to help him.”
“Of course. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”
His gaze caught hers, and even though she couldn’t always hold someone’s gaze, she looked into his eyes and saw everything there. Honesty. Integrity. Grief.
“You still feel a little guilty, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.”
He nodded, but sadness still haunted his expression. “I know, but it’s there anyway.”
“Did the farm survive?”
“No. It burned to the ground. Everything from my old life that I didn’t have with me that Dad had stored in my old room…it was all gone. Pictures, a couple of trophies for track and field competition. Destroyed. I’m still deciding what I want to do with the land.”
The raw emotion is his voice sent a vibration through her. Her admiration for him ramped up. “That had to be a lot to take in. When did you decide you wanted to join Dallas FD?”
“About two weeks after Dad’s funeral. He had a lot of friends, including people in the Dallas Fire Department. He’d met them through some community functions in Flower Mound and here in Dallas. He was a great supporter of first responders. They came to his funeral and a couple of the older guys suggested I apply to the department.”
“Did you have to start at the bottom when you got hired?”
He smiled, and she liked seeing the sadness disappear in his eyes.
“Oh, yeah. I was a probie even if I had firefighting experience. I still had things to learn.”
“And you don’t regret joining the department?”
“Nope. I love it.”
When their meals came, they turned to lighter topics. They discovered they liked a lot of the same movies and books and felt the same way about a variety of other topics. Both of them disliked the bad bits of social media; she used it to keep in touch with friends. He barely used it at all.
“How did you get the nickname Viking?” she asked at one point.
“My heritage is from Norway and there’s some Danish in there mixed with Irish. No one calls me that much anymore, except for guys in the military who knew me back in the day.”
“And you’re big and very tall. Hence the Viking name.”
“Bingo.”
“Did you play football in high school?”
“I was too involved with the track and field. I was a fast runner and good with long distance, too. Twisted my knee at the end of my senior year, though.”
“Ah, the crutches experience. Tell me how to fix my crutches so they don’t kill my armpits.”
He gave her tips on how to wrap the crutches, which she appreciated.
“Wow,” he said at one point after he pushed away his empty plate. “It’s been too long since I’ve been back here. That was great.”
“My enchiladas were fantastic. I’ll definitely come back.” She switched gears. “By the way, thanks again for grabbing the brochures from the park. Where did you find them?”
“Some were buried under the tent next to your booth.” He leaned in a little closer. “Almost half the booths, including yours, were a total mess. It’s a good thing you weren’t under them when that tornado came.”
“That’s for sure. I read in the paper that forty people were injured.”
“Yeah, but thankfully nothing serious.” He looked at the small bandage on her forehead. “How’s the head?”
“It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt. And the ankle is feeling better already.”
“Good.” He yawned.
She smiled. “Yikes. That’s not a good sign for a date.”
“It’s not a sign of how much I’m enjoying the company. I enjoyed this.”
A pleasant tingle went through her as he leaned closer, his eyes filled with warmth. A sensual tingle danced through her stomach. She wanted to move nearer to him, but at the same time didn’t want to make it too obvious.
“I’d like to do this again,” he said softly.
“Ditto.”
After they’d paid the bill, they walked to their cars which were right next to each other.
“I’ve got a forty-eight hour shift starting tomorrow,” he said around a yawn. “Okay if I call you after that?”
A rush of pleasure hit her. Dude? Is it okay? Hell to the yes. She tried for nonchalant while assuring him of her enthusiasm. “I’d love it.”
She typed his number into her cell phone and he did the same with her cell phone number.
His grin was lopsided and so damned charming. “Good. You have a great rest of your night.”
Everything inside her tingled. “You, too. Talk to you soon.”
As she drove home, she wished she’d taken a chance and kissed him. Because everything inside her wanted to so much. What she’d learned about him tonight had twisted her up inside in a good and a bad way. A bad way because of the horrible sorrow he’d experienced. Good because she’d learned enough about him that she wanted to know a whole lot more.
Chapter Four
Into the second night of Greg’s forty-eight hour shift, the klaxon bell at Station 58 woke him out of a damn good dream featuring Jenny in his arms as they kissed. The dream hadn’t gone as far as he wanted—after their date at Santos the other night, his fantasies had run to erotic as hell. He’d wanted to kiss her that night before she took off in her car, but he also didn’t want to take things too fast. Right now, though, he needed to get the lead out and stop wondering what it would be like if he ever made love to Jenny.
Once he’d suited up in his turnouts, and the rest of his crew took to the street in the ladder truck, he forgot the erotic dream. At least he did until Dane started teasing him.
“Hey Falk. Lexi told me you’ve got a thing for Jenny Hannigan,” Dane said with a smirk.
Surprised that Dane would bring it up in the middle of a fire run kept Greg silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “What if I do?”
Frank Hilton, another firefighter who’d joined the station recently, said. “My wife and I met her at a hospital charity function a month ago.”
“And?” Greg didn’t know where this was going.
“She’s super nice,” Frank said.
Dane smiled. “Lexi likes her. Maybe you should bring her to the firefighter’s picnic next week.”
Greg pulled a face. “I don’t know even know if I’m going.”
“You should man,” Dane said. “Stop being such a freaking hermit.”
Greg shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
Dane adjusted the chin strap on his helmet. “You need to get outta the house for a change.”
Greg didn’t know how ext
roverted he’d feel by next weekend. The party would feature food and music, and Skye’s cupcakes and other baked goods would be a part of the draw for Greg. Greg appreciated that the guys in the station kept tabs on him. It felt good they gave a damn, although Dane didn’t always understand how an introvert like Greg could’ve been a Marine and now a firefighter. Still, sometimes after a shift he didn’t want to mingle. He wanted to read or watch a movie and decompress.
They reached the house fire in short order, and his mind turned all business. Thankfully, the family who owned the home had escaped already. Flames shot up on the left side of the building, and Station 58 jumped into action to extinguish the growing conflagration. Some six minutes into battling the fire, Greg stood at the front of one hose with another firefighter behind him. Other firefighters manned a hose spraying water on the roof, which had started to smolder.
Suddenly this rather sedate acting fire decided to throw them a curveball.
A white flash blinded him, the heat searing, the noise throbbing in his ears as a concussion sent him and the other firefighters backwards. Greg left his feet, the force of the blast sending him sailing as he lost his grip on the hose. He landed with a thud on his back and ice cold water from the hose drenched him. The high pressure hose bucked and kicked, threatening to hit him. His vision grayed at the corners, and he couldn’t seem to move. He tried to struggle into a sitting position but nothing worked. He heard someone calling his name, the tone loud and urgent, but he couldn’t respond. Again, his name being called along with the shouts of other firefighting personnel. All went dark.
* *
Something rumbled under Greg, a swaying motion and murmured voices along with it. He opened his eyes with a snap and saw a male paramedic hovering over him and taking his blood pressure. His helmet was off, his turnout coat open. He tried to speak, but an oxygen mask blocked the attempt. He realized he was riding in a moving ambulance.
“Hey, you all right Falk?” Another paramedic named Morales spoke to Greg. “How do you feel?”
Greg lifted the mask off his face. “Like I just got blown up.”
Morales smiled. “Yep, you were. How do feel now? Any pain?”
“No. Did I break anything?”
“Not that we can tell. Hold still.”
The paramedic checked Greg’s pupils. “Equal and reactive. That’s really good.”
He knew Morales wouldn’t say it out loud, but his own EMT training told him the paramedic might be worried about head and internal injuries.
“Your vitals are really good considering. I think you’ll live.”
Greg threw him a smile. “Gee, thanks.”
“That was one hell of a blast, dude.” Morales patted him on the arm. “We were damned lucky it wasn’t worse.”
Greg’s voice felt scratchy. He was thankful he’d been wearing his SCBA, self-contained breathing apparatus when the blast occurred. “Everyone else…okay?”
“Another firefighter got knocked over but he’s okay. The one behind you. You guys got the full force of the blast.”
“Shit, how long have I been out?”
“Not long. You might have a concussion, so you need to be checked out.”
“Shit,” Greg said again. “I hate hospitals.”
He’d never been hurt on the job, not once. He’d never been wounded during the war.
“Don’t feel so bad.” The other paramedic who hadn’t said a thing finally spoke. “That was a big explosion.”
“Anyone know what caused it?” Greg asked.
“Meth lab…we think.”
Greg wanted to groan. He didn’t have a headache, and he wished he was back on the job instead of riding in this ambulance. If his fellow firefighters were still on the job, he wanted to knock down the fire with them, not wimp out.
Damn, damn, damn.
* *
Friday nights for Jenny were uneventful lately, but this one proved the exception. She was enjoying a book while lying on her couch listening to classical music. Her ankle throbbed a little, and she figured she’d overdone today at work.
Her land line phone rang around eight o’clock that evening. She almost didn’t answer, figuring Donna had thought of a reason why she should go into the office on a Saturday. Groaning, she grabbed the phone off the side table.
“Jenny?” the female voice asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s Lexi at Station 58.”
Jenny, feeling a little ornery said, “Do I know any other Lexi’s?”
Lexi laughed, then cleared her throat. “Smart ass. Look, I’m calling for Greg.”
Alarm hit Jenny square in the gut, her breath catching in her throat. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Fifty-eight went on a house fire tonight and a meth lab inside exploded. It knocked almost all of the firefighters over, including Dane. Greg was knocked out, but he’s conscious now and we think he’s okay. He’s getting checked over here at Dallas right now.”
Jenny’s throat tightened more. “Oh my, God.”
“Dane just came in and we’re waiting to find out more about Greg’s condition. When they wheeled Greg into emergency, he asked if we would call you.”
“I’ll be right there."
Dressed only in her lying-around-the-house sweats, and her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, Jenny drove to Dallas Emergency. She didn’t speed, but urgency threatened to unravel her. The thought of Greg hurt hit her square in the gut. A thin edge of panic threatened. She couldn’t ignore that her fear was out of proportion. After all, she’d only met Greg this week. She’d dated a rodeo bull rider for a short time at the beginning of the year—a very short time—and he’d broken two ribs the first time she’d gone to a rodeo to see him ride. She’d been dating him a couple of weeks when that happened, and the concern she’d had at the time didn’t approach the stomach-churning worry she experienced now. Granted, the rodeo dude relationship had been fostered by his mother, a nurse at Dallas who wanted to fix up her son and get him married off and settled down. She didn’t think even rodeo dude wanted to date her in the first place.
Greg. Well, he meant a hell of a lot more.
Oh, man. You’ve got it bad, girl.
A gratifying thought came hot on the heels of this sobering knowledge.
He asked for me.
Why? He had his firefighter friends there, and she understood the tight knit community would do anything for each other. He’d only met her on Independence Day. He hadn’t mentioned other family when they’d had dinner the other night. She pushed the rest of the thought away and concentrated on her driving. She made it to Dallas in reasonable time. It took forever to find a parking space. Everyone in the universe seemed to be at the hospital tonight.
Lexi and Dane sat in the waiting room, Dane still dressed in his turnout gear. His dark hair was mussed this way and that, and he looked concerned as hell. Lexi patted his back. Jenny’s stomach dropped.
Oh, no. Has Greg’s condition changed?
Lexi saw Jenny and waved her over with a smile. Relief edged away the fear. Would Lexi be smiling if Greg’s condition had deteriorated? She made her way through the crowd. Several harried adults, sullen-looking teens, and fussy toddlers dominated the waiting room. Lexi was off work, so she looked comfortable in jean shorts and a t-shirt.
“Hey,” Jenny said as she sat down next to Lexi. “Any word?”
“No.” Dane ran one hand through his hair. “But tests can take a long time. He’s probably getting x-rayed and scanned out the wazoo.”
“Did he seem really hurt?” Jenny asked.
Lexi patted Jenny’s shoulder. “Not at all. The paramedics who brought him in said his vitals were excellent and he was joking with them. Not too many people crack jokes if they’re seriously hurt. Believe me. You can relax a little.”
Jenny nodded, not sure what she wanted to say or how to say it. She still felt stunned. Jenny fiddled with her cross body bag, worrying the leather on the strap. “What happened? How did G
reg get hurt?”
Dane’s expression turned grim. “Meth head lived in this house with his wife and little kids. What kind of—” He looked around and lowered his voice. “What kind of asshole does that?”
“A big asshole,” Jenny said.
Dane’s face darkened more, and Jenny had no doubt if Dane could have he would’ve knocked the meth producer’s teeth out.
“The least the guy could’ve done is told us he had a meth lab in there. We would’ve kept everyone back farther. We’re fortunate none of the guys were in the house when it blew up. Greg was working the hose…first in line when the place exploded.” Dane almost growled the last words.
They sat around for quite some time nursing their concern. Dane fielded texts from the meth house fire. Captain Earl Stewart, boss of Station 58, checked on Greg’s condition. Eventually a nurse came out, and Lexi, Dane and Jenny popped up like jackrabbits. This nurse, though, wasn’t a person Jenny wanted to see. It was James Herald, Donna’s ex-husband. James’s balding head looked shiny under the harsh lighting, his blue eyes cool and his expression only mildly pleasant.
James nodded and smiled at Jenny in particular but didn’t mince words. “Greg’s back in his cubicle. He’s going to be okay. No broken bones, a very mild concussion. We’re keeping him in here overnight because of the concussion. You can come back and see him now if you like.”
James led them to the cubicle where Greg lay propped up and left them alone.
As soon as Greg saw the three of them, he beamed. “Hey.”
Jenny’s stomach did a flip and flop when she saw him wearing a hospital dressing gown with blankets over his legs. His dark hair was a mess, but he had good color and looked healthy. Relief descended on her. Jenny went to his right side while Dane and Lexi took the other side.
“Hey there, tough guy.” Jenny pressed his forearm gently. “You okay?”
“He’s gotta be. He has one of the hardest heads in the department.” Dane threw him a crooked smile. “Stubborn as hell.”
Greg returned his friend’s grin. “Okay, I’ll admit that. The stubborn part.”
Lexi rolled her eyes. “What Dane means to say is that he’s glad you’re okay.”
Dallas Fire & Rescue: All Fired Up (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4