Perfecting For Love - A Standalone Novel (A Doctors Romance Love Story) (Burbank Brothers, Book #3)

by Naomi Niles

  “When I graduated, my dad pulled some strings and got me in at the fire department. I decided I wanted to leave that small town and that small thinking. When I got certified, I left and moved gradually in this direction. I worked a number of jobs over the years, but firefighting was always my personal vow to myself. I wanted to make up for the life I’d lost, for Damian. I got it in my head that if his mother and sisters hadn’t burned, just maybe he’d still be alive somewhere. I guess you get the connection.” His voice trailed off.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I began, but I was being truthful. I really didn’t know exactly what to say.

  “Which brings me to now… and to you. Now you understand why this is so important to me. I was wild in those days, Gwyne. I did something that cost a guy his life, and probably would’ve taken two more on my own if they’d been home. I had some growin’ up to do. Where better than here?” His eyes looked at the city again, “Where better than this hell-hole of a town?”

  I looked down briefly. It never ceased to amaze me what lay deeply inside people: the stories you never heard. I was a little choked up myself. I stood up and crossed the room to where he stood, patting him on the shoulder with understanding.

  “So… that brings me to this thing between you and me. I came to town to do a job and clean a conscience. It’s more than a goal – it’s a moral debt, if you will. So, if I get involved with you and your dad fires me, then I can’t accomplish what I set out to do. I forgot that when I saw you… I wanted you. I had no right to get you mixed up in all this.”

  I nodded and hugged him from the back. “I get it, Sean. It’s okay. I care about you, as you obviously know. That means that I can give you what you need – you owe me no allegiance. I want you to do what you were intended to do. In fact, have you considered that a bigger hand than your own may have steered you here and that you’re being tested?”

  I could see his head tip slightly as he considered this. “I think I’m pretty lucky to have you in my life, no matter what happens from here on out.” Sean turned and put his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. He didn’t see the tears that dropped onto my cheeks as he left my apartment, without looking back.

  Chapter 10

  It felt like the entire world had grown cold the day that Sean left. I didn’t go into work that day, but stayed home and wrote, and researched some background. By mid-afternoon, it began to snow and as I watched from my window, the green surrendered to the white that would neutralize the city for the next four months at least. Sighing, I turned away from the window and resolved to find something to raise my spirits.

  My cell buzzed. “Hello?”

  “Where are you? You’re supposed to be here training,” came Sean’s voice. It felt so good to hear his voice, and yet bittersweet because I knew I would never feel it against my breast.

  “Not up to it today,” I told him, as though he didn’t already know it.

  “You’re not slacking on me, are you?” He was challenging me; that much was obvious.

  “I’m not a slacker; I’m just especially good at time management.”

  “So, that’s the new, politically correct word for laziness?” He was starting to cross my line. I wondered if he was trying to anger me to pull my low spirits out of the romance hole.

  “Not funny.” I pouted at my end of the connection, even though he couldn’t see me.

  “I know. Just trying to cheer you up.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard this is going to be? To train and then work with you and not let my heart ache… or worse yet, to somehow give the whole thing away and lose it all in the end?” I wasn’t sure I was that good of an actress.

  “No, I don’t know yet, but I’m fairly sure I’m going to find out. We just do the best we can. Keep things normal. That’s why I want your butt down here within the hour. We have to keep everything the same or people are going to start asking questions. You know your dad will, for certain.”

  I thought over his words and I knew he was right. “I’ll be down shortly,” I replied and disconnected.

  I stood before my closet, surveying my wardrobe. It was amazing how a touch of romance could make examining your wardrobe exciting, and even a sexy experience. Then, when the romance shuts down, you just stare at the hangers and end up picking out whatever is clean and the most comfortable – just because giving it much thought is just too much like work. With an air of defiance, I pulled out the new workout outfit I’d blown half a paycheck on. If my love life was going down the drain, it would be in designer clothes! Pink had always been my best color and I hoped I didn’t look like a flamingo in heat.

  Sean was waiting for me when I reached the fire station. I immediately looked at his eyes and saw a flicker of pain. He was tough, though, and quickly frowned. “Took you long enough.”

  I knew his words were purposefully harsh. He wanted to set a new norm for our time together – a norm that would never reveal our feelings. I had no choice but to go along with it.

  “Can’t a girl take a day off once in a while? I do have another job, you know.” I was fabricating the best mockery I could think of.

  His eyes said I want you, but his lips thinned and a muscle in his jaw spasmed with internal aggravation. “Give me fifty push-ups,” he said, pointing over his shoulder at the work-out area of the firehouse. I looked down and nodded, passing within inches of him as I walked. “Don’t!” he whispered desperately. I knew what he was feeling – oh, god, did I!

  I did the push-ups, although they were only for the sake of anyone who happened to walk by. I visualized Sean’s body beneath my own. With each pumping movement, I could feel his arms around my waist, lifting me and then re-seating me hard upon his rigid cock. I could feel myself get wet at the illusion and wondered if it showed on my face. When I was finished, I rolled back onto my bottom, perspiration dampening my brand-new clothes. Sean was looking at me curiously, almost as if he could read what had been going on in my head. I felt myself blushing.

  “Next time, wear old clothes and save those for the gym,” he muttered and gave me a hand up. “Now, shoot over to the breakroom and I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned his back to me and I saw him heading toward the quarters where the men slept while on call.

  I had poured myself a cup of coffee when Sean sat down next to me. “There!” he said, shoving a 3-ring binder toward me. “That’s the book you need to read. It explains all the protocol, everything from what to do when we get a call to how to handle onlookers on the scene. You’re not going anywhere near the burning structure, so you can skip anything having to do with that or how to use the equipment. All you need to familiarize yourself with is being an observer and crowd control. Next week, you’re coming back and we’re going to fit you for gear. A suit, helmet, boots, gloves—the whole nine yards. That said, I want you to familiarize yourself also with the signs of an impending explosion: gas, chemical, hazardous substances—the whole nine yards again. You need to know when to get people the hell out of the way and it’s all there in that book,” he said, tapping his finger on its cover. “This is serious, life and death sort of stuff. You may save someone else’s life if you know what you’re doing. You hear?”

  Sean got up and disappeared and I was left with the binder, a cup of cold coffee, and an abandoned feeling in my sweaty clothes. Resigned, I dumped the coffee, picked up the binder and went home.

  What I didn’t see was Dad, watching me from his slightly opened door. I didn’t find out about that until much later.

  Chapter 11

  I spent the next few days fleshing out some human-interest stories. I was fairly sure that as soon as I got fitted for my gear, I’d get to ride along and that’s when I’d really get the good stuff.

  I showed up the following Monday, eager to get started. Sean was nowhere to be found.

  Chet came up to me. “Your dad says I’m supposed to fit you up in some gear,” he pronounced. Chet was probably the ugliest man I’d ever seen, but stron
g as a bulldozer. You could tell by the way his shirt sleeves strained at the seam and the fact that I’d watched him carry an entire fire hose over one shoulder. Dad had always said you needed at least one bull on the crew.

  I was surprised, and felt let down. I guessed that Sean couldn’t take the temptation and had handed me off to Chet. I had to admit that hurt my feelings. Nevertheless, I remembered that I had a job to do and gamely nodded. “Thanks, Chet. Where do we go?” I asked and he directed me down to a small anteroom off the bays where their gear was kept on hooks and the boots lined up beneath a bench marked with each man’s name. I saw there was a piece of paper taped on the end of the bench and recognized my name. This, it seemed, was where I would be dressing.

  “Here, now…” Chet was saying, pulling his gear off the hook. “Watch me and put yours on the same way. Remember: if you’re not dressed, you’re not on board. You need to practice this until you can get dressed on a dead run in under sixty seconds. Well… now… I’ll leave you to it,” he muttered and left the anteroom. It was apparent to me that he wasn’t exactly in favor of my tagging along. I shrugged into the overalls and they were huge. That wasn’t a big surprise, as firemen tended to be bigger guys, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it. It was ridiculous; I couldn’t take a step without tripping. I tried the helmet and it ended somewhere around the tip of my nose. The boots… well, I could have skated inside them. “Damn!” I cursed and held out my arms in disgust. That’s when I heard a chorus of laughter. A handful of guys were peeking around the bay doorway, watching me struggle.

  “Sixty seconds!” one of them called out to me in jest.

  Dad pushed through the throng, a big grin of pride on his face. He was carrying a set of gear and tossed it at my feet. “There. See if you can keep these on.”

  A variety of cat calls came from the gallery as I removed the over-sized clothes and tried on the new ones. Dad watched approvingly. “We sourced a set across town; they had a midget retire.”

  “Very funny, Dad.”

  He grinned and the cat calls and hoots continued from behind him. I knew this was good natured and actually meant that I’d been accepted by the guys. Sean was still nowhere to be seen.

  “Why isn’t Sean finishing my training, Dad?” I asked him and his face instantly grew sober.

  “Man has other things to do besides humor a snippet of a girl,” he muttered and walked away. Somewhere I had evidently crossed the line. I couldn’t imagine how Dad might suspect anything; we had been excruciatingly formal at the station. “Gwyne?”

  I looked up. Dad had come back. “Stay away from him.”

  I just stared at him, not saying a word. I didn’t ask who, and that told him everything he needed to know.

  Chapter 12

  I pushed open the drapes and looked out to check the weather. We had gotten a heavy snow overnight. Even though I lived in the city, I’d never lost that child’s awe at the first snow. This was one of the few times that New York City was truly clean and pure. The traffic would eventually darken the snow, and that’s how it remained until the spring rains took it away.

  It would be Christmas soon. Dad and I had dinner at the Carleton on Thanksgiving. It had been a somber affair, but neither of us were big on cooking and this just seemed much easier. It was a beautiful hotel; a mixture of rich gangsters during Prohibition and a modern, European elegance. Only a place like the Carleton could pull that off. Just going there was more of a treat than the meal.

  I had begun taking my laptop to the firehouse with me. Dad said he would let me know when I could do a ride-along; not every call was suitable. He knew what I was after and I trusted him.

  I sat in the lunch room and joshed with the guys, but mostly wrote. I spotted Sean from time to time, but he seemed to always choose a route that was circuitous to where I sat. I could tell he was under orders from Dad and I knew what was at stake, so I said nothing.

  Nothing is perhaps the most difficult thing there is to say. It can be so misinterpreted, sometimes signifying indifference and yet other times, it meant you had such a huge comment to share that you knew you had to keep it to yourself. The latter was true in this case. It was immensely taxing, particularly for someone who made their living with words.

  Just when I was about to give up, the call came. The siren screamed and 9-1-1 was announcing the location and type of fire. The men were scrambling and Chet ran by me, motioning me to come along. I ran for my clothes and made it in the nick of time. They drove more than the main engine, so I knew this one was big. There would be plenty of people standing around. It wasn’t until we were careening down the middle of traffic that I remembered I’d left my notebook behind. At least I had my phone; I could make recordings of interviews and my own comments with that.

  The location turned out to be at the outer edge of our district; in fact, the neighboring district had been called in as well. It was an apartment building, set back from the street and in general, filled with low-income residents. There appeared to be a mixture of languages, ages, and ethnicities. As I’d been trained to do, I corralled the residents into one area, isolating them from passersby and the curious. People were screaming, crying… their arms reaching out toward the burning building.

  I went from person to person, asking whether their entire family had escaped with them. I saw it become readily apparent which families were whole: they clung together and merely cried as their life’s possessions either turned to ash or were doused by the massive water hoses.

  One woman, however, was screaming and pointing to the building. She was shrieking in Spanish and someone was holding her back physically.

  “Juan! Juanito! Mi pobrecito!” she shrieked as she fought off the restraining hands. I quickly grabbed her hands and got into her face.

  “Someone, translate!” I ordered. “Is there someone left in the building?” I asked.

  The man holding her repeated my question in Spanish.

  “Sí! Sí! Juanito!”

  “How old? What is your apartment number?”

  The man translated and I took off with the information to find someone. It was utter havoc: hoses lying over hoses, men shouting and breaking out axes and breathing tanks. Since the building was located so far back from the street, the trucks had to run their extension ladders as far as they’d reach, and then it was a floor-by-floor search. This was the worst situation that could happen. I tripped over a hose and went down and men ran over the top of me. In the darkness that had fallen and the snow that had begun to fall, they didn’t know I was a female and assumed I would get up and head toward the building.

  When finally I did get up, I staggered closer to the entrance, looking desperately for one of Dad’s men. I never realized that in this kind of havoc, everyone looked the same. It was only the insignia on their helmet that marked their district.

  I moved closer to the building, thinking that we were the first company there and someone must be inside. Men were running in and out and someone shouted at me to help man the hose. I agreed, thinking at least it kept me up front where I could grab someone I recognized. I knew no one from another district would pay attention to me; they would surely see I was female and think I was impersonating as a joke.

  All I could think of was the boy or man trapped inside. They didn’t know he was in there. I didn’t have time for hoses. Dropping my grip, I raced to the doorway of the building and shouted. “13th District! Help! Victim trapped!!”

  He came from the only shadows that could possibly still exist in the burning building. I felt him before I saw him, scooping me up and running from the flames. “Gwyne, are you crazy! You could have been killed!”

  “Sean! Sean! Put me down! There’s someone trapped inside! His name is Juan, and I’m not sure if he speaks English. A woman among the residents is screaming for him—they’re holding her back.

  Sean instantly put me down, then looked over his shoulder and back at me as though torn in decision. He was a fireman, though, and I unde
rstood. “Get back to the street and get everyone down the block! This place is ready to go down!” he screamed and tapping his shoulder radio, said something briefly before he commandeered a fire hose and headed back to the building.

  I felt caught, in shock, and unsure what to do. Whether it was training or genetics, I snapped into action and made my way hurriedly toward the group of residents, huddling in the snow. “Everyone…” I addressed them with a bullhorn. “I need you to move away immediately. Please follow the direction I’m waving to and move down the street. This building is unstable and could come down at any moment. We’re going to need to pull our trucks into the areas where you’re standing,” I motioned down the street and then made a herding motion with my arm. To my surprise, whether it was my gear or my attitude, people began to move. “Calmly, but quickly, folks. Move down the street.” They followed my direction.

  It wasn’t long after they vacated that instead of pulling the trucks into the yard, they backed off, almost as if to shelter the residents. The apartment building began to collapse, each floor slamming into the one below. From amidst the holocaust emerged a figure carrying a limp body. The collapse triggered an explosion and the two were propelled forward by the blast. Firefighters ran to help them, half carrying, half dragging them toward the street.

  It was most likely the missing Juan, and the firefighter who had carried him was Sean.

  Chapter 13

  There is a brotherhood among firefighters. It supersedes even personal lives. Perhaps it’s because they must depend upon one another for survival, or perhaps it’s because of the, “There, but for the grace of God…” feeling. Regardless, the newer recruits were assigned to the majority of station duties while the regulars took turns visiting Sean in the hospital.