Hot Nights with the Fireman

by Lynne Silver

  Plus he had to be hot under all those layers of protective clothes. She stepped back up to the front and gestured he should strip while she handled a little of the speech. With an ease that said he’d done it a zillion times, and he had, Jason was quickly back in his regular outfit of navy slacks and a navy collared shirt with a small white firefighter cross over the left breast. The muscles of his biceps bulged under the elastic armband of the shirt. She could see the hint of a small tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve. She was instantly riveted and dying to know what it was. His Internet photos hadn’t displayed them clearly. With effort, she turned her attention back to the classroom.

  “I’m going to go over a few fire safety rules, and Firefighter Moore will write them on the board to help you remember.” She smiled at the kids and turned her smile on Jason, who wasn’t smiling back. In fact, he looked more panicked at her instructions than if facing a horde of sorority girls with cameras.

  She stepped over to him with a puzzled look. “What?” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “Uh, nothing. Go ahead.” He picked up a dry erase marker and turned to the board, but the masterful, fun Jason who’d greeted the class was gone.

  Valerie turned back to the assembled group of children. “Silly me. You’re in kindergarten, aren’t you?” She realized that most were early readers, and writing on the board wouldn’t be helpful, but also something about writing on the board made Jason very tense.

  The children nodded seriously. “Let’s do it this way instead. I will read the safety rules, and Firefighter Moore will act them out. He may need a volunteer or two, so we’ll be looking for good listeners.”

  Every child adjusted their posture and zipped their lips. Jason turned from the board with his relaxed grin back on his face.

  “‘Never play with matches or lighters,’” Valerie read from the colorful kid-friendly paper Jason had brought with him along with a stack of other goodies for the kids.

  Jason turned to the board and drew a stick with a little flame on top. He feigned touching the flame, and fell to the floor as if mortally wounded. The children shrieked with laughter. He bounded back to his feet and drew a big X over the match illustration.

  Valerie smiled and continued. “‘Install smoke detectors on every floor of your house.’”

  She turned to see how Jason would act out this one, but he turned to the class. “Who can find the smoke detector in this room?”

  Necks craned and heads spun as the children raced to be the first to find it. Finally, the future Power Ranger leapt up and pointed to the detector mounted near the door on the ceiling. Jason applauded.

  “‘Leave your house immediately in the event of a fire. Don’t hide. Crawl,’” she read.

  Immediately, Jason dropped to the carpet and commando-crawled in front of the class. “Form a line behind me,” he barked. “We’re heading out.”

  As if the children were army-trained soldiers, they fell into line behind Jason and crawled around the tables and out the room in orderly fashion. When the last child was out the door, Valerie peeked into the hallway, where Jason had them lined up against the wall outside the classroom door and was high-fiving each one. Impressive.

  Together they waited for the teacher to join them in the hallway, then the three adults accompanied by the children marched outside to the school’s entrance, where Jason’s team had parked the fire truck. Some of his squadron were already out there with the other kindergartners and first graders, and it looked as if more classes were pouring through the door. This was strictly an event for the younger classrooms.

  When it seemed all the children were lined up by classroom, Dan, the cocky firefighter, as Val had come to think of him, stood on the step of the truck. “We are on call,” he said loudly. “If we get a call, we will ask teachers to get their students off the truck as quickly as possible and we will get out of here fast.” He grinned and surveyed the kids. “And we’ll put the alarm on if that happens.” His right hand shot into the truck to flip a switch and roughly seventy-five pairs of little hands covered ears and squealed in delight as the deafening siren on the truck rang shrilly. Val snapped another photo and hoped the local reporter she’d cajoled out here caught the moment also.

  When the alarm was turned off, Jason quickly took his place at a door to the truck and started lifting kids up the steps so they could walk through the truck and out the other side, where José waited to lift them down. It was a routine they’d obviously done before and had down to a science.

  Valerie snapped photos. This was a great example of giving back to the community and rebuilding their image. She was careful not to include the faces of any children so she wouldn’t have to bother with permissions later in the day.

  Luckily for the firefighters and students, no alarm came in and every student had a chance to climb in and around the truck. The teachers herded the children back into the school and Val was left alone outside with the firefighters, whom she was getting to know quite well.

  “Want a tour?” Jason asked with a grin from his post at the passenger rear door.

  Yes, she did, but it could wait for later. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something about the blackboard thing.”

  He immediately went on guard, standing straighter and losing the grin. “What do you want to know? But you should make it fast, since we need to get back to the station.”

  She’d probably already blown this conversation, but she forged ahead anyway. “You were great with the kids today,” she said. “You could be a teacher.”

  He laughed, but didn’t seem that amused. “Yeah, that’ll be the day,” he muttered.

  “Why not? Did it have something to do with writing on the board?”

  He stiffened and turned his back on her. “Guys, let’s put this show on the road. Move it,” he called loudly to his colleagues.

  She grabbed him by the shoulder before he could run away in his truck. She’d driven her own car.

  “Don’t push this. I have to go, Valerie. I’m working.” But he didn’t brush her hand off his shoulder and turned to face her.

  “You have a second. José is still rolling up the hose, and I want to know. Why did you look petrified when I asked you to write on the board?” She knew she was pushing where she had no business, but after their dinner and kiss last week, she was feeling a little possessive and curious about Jason.

  “I wasn’t scared,” he said.

  “Okay,” she said agreeably, but she looked intently at him, trying to show by her expression she was his friend and would listen to anything he had to say.

  Shit, he was going to have to tell her, wasn’t he? She’d saved his ass in the classroom, and the least he could do was tell her the truth. He could handle the embarrassment. Lots of people had learning disabilities. Probably a few of the kids they’d just met with did. He took a deep inhale, and it felt like breathing through his mask as he prepared to unman himself in front of a pretty girl.

  “I don’t like writing on the board, because in fifth grade, I had a teacher who made us do it a lot. Until all the work was perfect,” he confessed.

  “Mmm.” Her head tilted a little as she made a noncommittal noise.

  “And…and I have trouble with writing on the board.”

  She still waited.

  “Because I have a learning disability—dys…” He frowned as if trying to decide to tell her or not.

  “Dyslexia?”

  “Yes, and dysgraphia.” He paused as the whole dirty truth spilled out. “And that’s why I’ve never tried out for the USAR Team 1. I’d have to write a few essays, which is nearly impossible with what I’ve got.”

  “Difference,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “You have a learning difference. It’s not a disability. It simply means your brain learns differently than the mainstream student.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” He chanced a quick glance at her face, and she didn’t look upset or disgusted. She look
ed as sexy as ever.

  “Remember, I’ve been doing volunteer work with the after-school reading program. One of the kids I worked with last year has dyslexia. I wanted to help her, so I did a little reading up.”

  He blinked at her. “She was lucky.”

  “Who was lucky? Sharylle? Oh, I guess. It was a minor difference, and she was able to keep up with her class.”

  “No, I meant she was lucky to have you tutor her. I didn’t get diagnosed until middle school, and by then I’d already decided I sucked as a student and it wasn’t like my parents could afford private tutoring.” For reasons he did not understand, his throat tightened up as did his chest, and all he could do was smile down at her as she started talking.

  But then his ears started tuning into her actual words, and his stomach started churning.

  “There are a variety of literacy agencies that offer assistance to adults. Or maybe you could call a local elementary school and get the name of a teacher who could tutor you.” She brightened and gestured behind her with her hand. “Hey, maybe you could even ask here.”

  “Yeah, that’s an idea, but I’d feel like an idiot.” He took a slight step back.

  She lost the smile and her happy demeanor. “I’m sorry, I just thought…” she said.

  “I’m fine,” he said. He turned away to assist with packing up the truck and getting back to the station. He didn’t turn around to see Valerie stalk off to her car without saying good-bye. No kisses today. “Damn it.” He punched a panel of the truck.

  He could feel the scowl on his face as he circled the truck, slamming down the metal compartment doors with unnecessary force. “Let’s move out,” he barked and jumped in the rear cabin with his back to the driver. Banter and chatter flowed freely from the other passengers, but he didn’t join in. They all liked doing these easy events, and the looks on the kids’ faces made it worthwhile. He’d heard these sessions called early recruiting, and it was true. You could count on at least one kindergartener from today becoming a firefighter or a police officer.

  “How come you got the special treatment from Ms. Wainwright?” Dan called from the opposite bench. “Getting to be a teacher’s pet?” It was a typical harmless Dan comment, but he wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

  He sank lower in his seat and gave Dan the finger without speaking.

  “Touchy,” Dan said. “What’s eating you?”

  “Nothing.”

  Everyone glanced at the others in the truck and chose to ignore his rude behavior. They continued chatting and ignoring him the entire ride back to the station while he stared out the window and regretted his curtness with Valerie. She’d only been trying to help. She hadn’t deserved his ire.

  There was nothing he could do about it now. She’d driven off and he was in the truck with several more hours on his shift until six tonight when he was heading to the information session on applying for the International Search and Rescue Team.

  At five thirty, Jason stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and pulled on his navy pants and collared shirt.

  “No civilian clothes?” Dan asked. “Where are you headed?”

  Jason noticed Dan was wearing an identical outfit. A sinking feeling entered his body.

  “A meeting,” he said shortly.

  “Hey, are you going to the search and rescue thing? Me, too. Want to ride together?”

  He forced a smile on his face and sat on his cot to pull on his Haix boots. “Sure thing.” He hoped his tone sounded easygoing. This meeting should be a no-brainer, a breeze. They were both top firefighters in prime shape. There was nothing about the meeting to get their panties in a wad over, except…his were. He was nervous as all hell.

  He stood and followed Dan out the door to Dan’s truck. “How long have you wanted to apply?” he asked.

  Dan shrugged and turned the key in the ignition. “Saw the poster a few weeks ago, and figured I’d check it out.” He pulled out of the spot with a slight squeal, and Jason grabbed the passenger-side handle above the window. So Dan hadn’t been yearning after this job for years. Unless he was playing it cool. It wasn’t as if they were in direct competition. It was an elite squad that needed more and more volunteers. Unfortunately for the earth’s human population, Mother Nature was a bitch who kept fighting back. There was no shortage of disasters, and the need for rescue workers seemed to grow with every passing year.

  No, they weren’t in competition, but it would still rub him the wrong way to see Dan sail through the application process while he struggled.

  When they arrived at the local community center where the meeting was being held, they hopped out of the car and entered the building. Swarms of people huddled around the entrance to the door. Dan started to push his way through, but Jason grabbed his elbow. “I think there’s a sign-in sheet.”

  They joined in the more-crowded-than-expected mob and waited their turn to add their names to the long list. When they entered the room, gray hard plastic chairs filled the large room in rows. Large colorful posters of disasters in faraway countries dotted the walls. They looked unsuccessfully for two seats together, and Jason wasn’t too sad when they had to sit three chairs away from each other. He settled the notepad he’d brought with him on his lap and pulled out his black pen. Valerie would be proud of him. He fully planned on taking notes.

  When the session began, he remembered why he rarely took notes and relied on his memory instead. He wasn’t very good at taking notes. Too often, he didn’t know which bullet points to scratch down and ended up trying to write every word out of the lecturer’s mouth. Which, of course, meant he couldn’t write fast enough and ended up missing key parts of the talk. Finally he gave up and clicked his pen closed and chose to listen intently instead.

  This was going to be a big year for them. Obviously, turnout and interest in the Search and Rescue Team were higher than expected, thanks to the publicity they’d received during the major tsunami and earthquakes of the past few years. They couldn’t take everyone, though they appreciated everyone’s interest and spirit of volunteerism for a rough job that paid next to nothing.

  A woman took the front of the room and started talking about the family support network. He supposed it was important and impressive that they’d developed resources to help the families of the rescue team stay in touch while their loved ones were thrown into hot zones, but as he didn’t have a wife and kids, it wasn’t very relevant to him. He just couldn’t see his parents calling in for a nightly teleconference if he were in some foreign country digging victims out of rubble.

  His mind wandered a bit and he scanned the room checking out his fellow rescue worker wanna-bes. Somehow the people had self-selected to sit with their peer groups. He sat in the front right corner nearest the door in a group of obvious firefighters. They all looked like him, young and fit. The front left had a bunch of guys in khakis and collared shirts. Most of them were typing on laptops or other electronic devices. They were probably the engineers, the demolition experts. The ratio of male to female in the entire room tipped heavily toward the testosterone-carrying card members, but there were a few women scattered throughout the room. The rescue team pulled from across the community for a variety of occupations. It was heavily populated with firefighters from this county. They made up the core with assists from other more white-collared jobs.

  The woman left the front, and a tall man with silvery thinning hair took her place. He was a firefighter. Jason would stake his fingers on it. Sure enough, he introduced himself as Chief Sean McGowan. He sat up in his chair and leaned slightly forward, forearms on his thighs. McGowan had the gold to impart. He talked about the admissions process in great detail.

  Everything he listed sounded like cake. Physical fitness? No problem. CPR training? Already done. When he got to the essay section, he realized his fingers were digging into his thighs. He forced them to relax, but each sentence the captain uttered had his gut clenching tighter and tighter. The essays counted for a lot. They wanted to ens
ure they were getting people with the mental capacity to handle the job.

  His breathing grew choppy and he tried to concentrate on the older man at the front, but his stupid, messed-up brain kept circling back to the essays they’d have to write. Before he could refocus, it was over, and the room was filled with the din of people standing and stretching. Dan sauntered over with a grin, looking as cocky as he deserved to be. He would have no problem getting a spot.

  “Ready to go?” Dan asked, smiling over at some women eyeing him on the other side of the room.

  “Sure.”

  Back in the car, Dan was driving too fast and talking a mile a minute. “Damn, I want to get on the team so bad. Sounds like a blast.”

  Jason shot him a look. “If you make the team, you’ll be shipped to countries in the middle of chaos. The only blast will be when the rescue team blows apart rubble looking for survivors. Doesn’t sound like a party to me.”

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  He blinked. “To help people and for the challenge.” And to prove to everyone back in Aberdeen, family and friends, that he wasn’t a moron.

  Dan scoffed. “See? You’re not that different than me. It’s the adrenaline rush. Don’t deny it.”

  He couldn’t argue. As much as he wanted to help people, there was the allure of putting his body in dangerous situations and challenging himself to get out. It had always been about the rush. It’s why he did what he did. Even if he’d had a brain that could handle a desk job, his body couldn’t. It needed to move at high octane. Yeah, he was ready to take his career to the next level.

  Chapter Six

  A week later, Jason found himself in another long line but at a totally different venue. He’d e-mailed Valerie to apologize for snapping at her at the school. She’d reciprocated by asking him if he played golf. Sure, he’d played once or twice in his life. He’d had no idea she’d interpret that as the go-ahead for her to put him down for a foursome for the charity golf tournament to benefit a local children’s burn unit. Most of the firefighters were going to be walking the crowd, hat in hand to solicit donations, but they wanted some actual firefighters to play some golf.