Fire & Flesh: A Firefighter Romance Story

by Kerri Carr

  “Phoebe!” her dad yelled from below. He had a bellowing, deep voice that could probably be heard from the other side of the country. So of course everyone was staring at him and then her because he had pointed straight at her. Phoebe swallowed hard. She hated this.

  “COME DOWN HERE!” her dad continued to scream. Phoebe stood up automatically, providing enough room for the man to scoot in and plug a small black object into the socket. It looked like one of those portable batteries that Phoebe should probably get for her phone.

  “Uh… sorry…” she finally mumbled. She attempted to climb down the bleachers to the next row between the shiny, metal, flat seats but she tripped over her shoe and just when she thought she was going to hit the ground head first, the man grabbed her arm. Effortlessly, he steadied her and helped her make that step. Phoebe was amazed that the stranger was able to do something like that without any effort especially since Phoebe was what people called a “big, beautiful woman.” She had battled her weight for most of her life and went on every fad diet around. One day, she woke up and embraced her generous curves and realized that she was a “big, beautiful woman.” Once she accepted herself, she became more alive, more confident and felt sexier than she ever had.

  “Careful,” he said, with a deep voice that was much different than her dad’s. It was manly and actually sort of sexy. “You might want to take the stairs.”

  Phoebe laughed, nervously. Why was she turning into a giggling schoolgirl around his man? But his hand around her arm… it sent shivers down her spine. And shivers somewhere else. She had to get out of there.

  Phoebe hurried toward the stairs but before she took the first step, she looked behind her. The man was still there, watching her. She finally noticed his hoodie. He was on the Troy Ice Kings. That’s what Brad said to her in the parking lot.

  “I’m Justin,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you, Justin. I’m Phoebe.”

  Phoebe stood there a moment longer but then she thought she could hear her dad taking another warning breath, so she continued pounding her way down the stairs.

  “What took you so long?” her dad said, when she finally reached his side.

  “Nothing,” Phoebe said.

  Her dad grabbed her arm and forced her to look into his eyes. This time, the hand was not as nice.

  “Listen to me,” her dad said, sternly. “I saw who you were talking with up there. You stay down here. You’re not going back there. Stay away from him. I mean it. This is serious business.”

  Phoebe stared back. She opened her mouth to say that she understood. But then… something snapped. She was thirty-one years old. She was a grown-up woman. She did not have to stand for her life to be controlled like this. She couldn’t take it anymore.

  Phoebe wrenched her arm away. “Dad, I am not a child,” she said, in a low, serious voice. “You don’t get to control everything that I do.”

  “So help me, Phoebe,” he said. “You’ll stay away from him if you know what’s good for you.”

  Phoebe scoffed, looking away from him. The stands were empty now, everyone in the rink either setting up or going to the locker rooms.

  Justin was gone. She’d stay away from Justin if she knew what was good for her, huh? Well, maybe she didn’t.

  *****

  “Sandwiches,” Phoebe’s mom said. Phoebe wrinkled her nose as her mom handed them out. Somehow, she’d been kicked out of her hiding place in the bleachers above. Now she was on sandwich duty at nine in the morning.

  Brad and the rest of the morons on his hockey team paid no attention to the time. They shoved the sandwiches in their mouths like overgrown goblins. No, goblins were more polite and less ugly. Phoebe really hated being here.

  “Sandwich,” one of the goblins grunted. She handed it over without a second thought.

  Then someone caught her eye. There he was, right across the ice. She watched him, moving in slow motion as he stiffly made his way onto the ice. Once his blades hit the frozen surface, he was as agile as a cat. She watched him move about effortlessly, his strong arms and legs working in tandem. He twisted and suddenly he was skating backwards. Phoebe took a long moment to enjoy his ass, which looked firm and perfectly round in the tight pants he wore, the base layer that every smart hockey player wore under their pads.

  Brad wasn’t smart. He wore sweatpants. But Phoebe was grateful for that.

  Yes, it was clear that Justin was a completely different breed than Brad and his cronies. He straightened up again, skating fast toward the far edge of the rink. Phoebe cringed. He was being really reckless. Just as she thought he was about to plow into the edge, he spun a hard right, digging his skates into the ice and coming to a complete stop, all at once.

  “Show off!” someone yelled. Phoebe felt her cheeks flush. She wasn’t even sure why.

  Then he looked at her. She held her breath, told herself that he was looking at everywhere but her. But he wasn’t. He kept his gaze locked on hers. Then he gave her a half-smile, sort of smirk, before turning to face her completely before he bowed his head. Phoebe wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  “Hey!” her dad barked in her ear. She jumped and it wasn’t a good thing. “Where are the sandwiches?”

  “Uh…?” Phoebe held up a bag still in her hand.

  “You keep your eye on that,” her dad said gruffly, before moving over to hang out with the team. Phoebe made a face behind his back. Seriously, what was she doing here? she thought.

  Finally, the hockey tournament started. The rink was full of rowdy people screaming obscenities at the ice and it wasn’t even noon. Brad’s team was in the second round so it was easy for Phoebe to disappear for a little while. She wandered outside and looked up in the gray sky that was as gloomy as her mood.

  What was she going to do? That was Phoebe asked herself every day. All she could do was submit job applications and try not to go crazy. She asked her dad to try to hook her up with some of his connections once, but he blew her off. Phoebe wasn’t even sure what he did, honestly. It involved long hours sometimes, often late at night. Whatever it was, the job paid enough to keep a roof over everyone’s head and that was enough for Phoebe. She only needed a job that put a roof over her head. And her head wasn’t that big.

  But she couldn’t do anything about it right now, stuck at a chilly, loud ice rink, so she just crossed her arms over her chest, staring down at the crumbly pavement, feeling sorry for herself.

  “I feel like I’m the only one but I don’t mind when it’s cloudy.”

  Phoebe looked up when she heard the deep, sexy voice behind her. She turned around, slowly. It was him.

  *****

  “You don’t seem too happy here,” he said.

  Phoebe stared up into his knowing eyes. They seemed to bore deep inside her, right down to her soul. She couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at her like that. Someone who really took the time to look.

  Phoebe shook her head and a lump formed in her throat. Oh God. This was not what she wanted. Maybe being looked at was a bad thing.

  Phoebe tried not to blink. She shook her head a little in order to will her tears away and get her emotions back in check. Justin stood there. He didn’t seem annoyed that she wasn’t talking or wondering why she was so weird. He seemed to simply be waiting for her.

  “Sorry,” she said, finally, catching her breath but her voice was still shaky. “I’m… yeah. Not happy to be here. Sorry. Sorry…”

  Justin was pale but there was still something intriguing about him. A pull she couldn’t quite explain. She felt drawn to him in a way that she hadn’t really experienced before.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” he said. “But I didn’t really catch you name before inside the rink.”

  “It’s Phoebe,” she said. At least she could say that and sound normal. He was wearing a black hoodie and the hood cast a slight shadow over his face that made him look even more handsome.

  “So, not a hockey fan,” Justin said. �
�Phoebe. Wow. That’s a really pretty name by the way. Sorry, it’s just hitting me now.”

  Phoebe couldn’t help smiling. It was a smile she hadn’t experienced in a long time. A truly amused smile. Really happy.

  “Yeah, my parents got it out of a baby name book,” she said. Then she clamped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean like… yeah… like in a conceited way, I just meant yeah, like… a story—”

  Justin cut her off with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. You know, you have a really cute voice.”

  “No one’s ever told me that before…” Phoebe said, in a small voice. She was still smiling. She liked this. She liked this a lot.

  “I bet there’s way more that’s cute about you.”

  “Hey!” Phoebe took a step back as Brad came barreling over to them, hockey stick in hand. “Stay away from my sister!”

  He was louder than he’d ever been. Phoebe couldn’t believe that this was happening.

  “Brad!” she hissed.

  Brad walked right up to Justin and pushed him square in the chest. Justin had about twenty pounds of muscle on Brad, but he stumbled back anyway. Brad advanced, not backing down.

  “You don’t want to do this here,” Justin said, in a low voice.

  “You don’t want to be here,” Brad hissed. “He’s here, you know.”

  “You don’t scare me,” Justin said back.

  “I should,” Brad said. “Because if I see you near my sister again, I’m breaking all the rules.”

  They stared at each other for what felt like a long time. Phoebe’s chest burned. She couldn’t take a breath. She was waiting for something happen. Something big. But they didn’t move. And then all of a sudden, all of the tension was taken out of the air.

  “I’ll see you out there,” Justin said. He turned and walked away without a second glance.

  *****

  Brad’s team was losing. Phoebe’s mom fretted beside her, nails near her mouth. “If they don’t make it out of here, they’re through,” she muttered under her breath, as if the entire rink didn’t know. “This is their last chance.”

  Phoebe didn't care but she was watching the game very closely. Justin’s team was on the ice. She liked their team colors. Blood red and bold. They wore black pads and each of them were an incredible skater. Much better than Brad’s team, who clomped and slid around. Justin’s team was smooth. It was like they weren’t even skating, but they were gliding, like swans on the water, coming in for a landing. They were incredible to watch. She wasn’t even sure if they were human.

  And their hockey skills were also out of this world. Justin seemed to be able to have complete control of the puck. It was like the puck was connected to his mind. Where he skated, it followed. No one could stick it away from him and no one could keep up. Phoebe sat on the edge of her seat, eyes glued on him. Even behind all the black pads and the helmet and face mask, he was still utterly captivating. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

  “Oh! Ref! Did you see that?” her mom called out beside her as Justin’s team made another goal. Phoebe didn’t know what she was talking about. Justin’s team was playing expertly but they were also playing fair. She finally read the back of his jersey. It said Troy Ice Kings #13. Phoebe smiled to herself. That was her lucky number.

  For once, Phoebe was sitting near the bottom of the stands. That was only because Justin was on the ice. The big plastic wall in front of them was the only thing keeping her separate from Justin on the other side. Well, that and her brother.

  It was so weird for him to be protective. First of all, he was younger. Second of all, he had never cared before, why would he start with the hottest guy she had ever laid her eyes on. The only hot guy who expressed interest in her. It just didn’t make sense.

  But Phoebe didn’t want to focus on that right now. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of Justin. She watched as he stripped another player of the puck and charged toward the goal. The crowd erupted into cheers after Justin sunk his third goal of the night. They were whistling and foot stomping on the bleachers. Her mom huffed beside her.

  “Animals,” she muttered, “they’re all animals.”

  Thirty seconds to go. The score was 4-0, Ice Kings. Of course, Brad’s team couldn’t come back from that. Phoebe didn’t know what Brad was thinking when he went charging after the puck. Justin was taking it down the ice and suddenly, Brad was barreling right toward him. Phoebe didn’t think there was any way he could catch up. He couldn’t. Instead he thrust his stick out, aiming right for Justin’s skate. Justin went down hard.

  The crowd gave a collective gasp as Justin pitched forward. His face mask hit the ice first but he kept going, sliding across the ice at a painful angle as his tractionless feet collapsed behind him. Everyone one the ice just stopped. It was like time stopped

  Phoebe couldn’t stop staring at him, flopping on the ice like a rag doll. She didn’t know much about hockey, even after all these games, but even she knew that was illegal. Then the ref blew his whistle. “Foul play! Player down,” the ref screamed out.

  Murmurs came from the stand. From Phoebe’s angle, it looked like he might have twisted his neck. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. And then he was on his feet.

  All of a sudden, in one fluid motion, Justin was on his feet. Phoebe didn’t know how it happened. If she would have just read about it she wouldn’t believe it. Then everything was out of control. It was a brawl. Right there on the ice. The whistles didn’t help anything. Justin jumped on Brad and it was on.

  Phoebe didn’t even know what was going on. All she could see was movement and scuffling around, people shouting. Brad was buried under a bunch of people. She didn’t see Justin at all. What was going on? Then the lights turned off.

  Phoebe’s dad was screaming. She heard him from a distance, like he was in a train tunnel, instead of just down the way, yelling toward the ice. It was dark and people were shouting, crying out in fear. There was a high-pitched scream from somewhere high above.

  “Attention everyone,” the announcer said over the intercom. “Remain calm. Please stand up and exit the stadium in an orderly fashion.”

  The announcement didn’t work. Soon, everyone was panicking, screeching and climbing over the bleachers. Phoebe cried out when she felt someone step on her back, literally step over her.

  “Animals!” Phoebe’s mom yelled over the chaos. Phoebe hunched over more, covering her head. She yelped when someone tugged on her hair. Everything was going so fast. She had no idea what was going on.

  All of a sudden, she was pulled into someone’s arms. One moment she was getting walked all over on in the bleachers and the next, she was in someone’s arm. Phoebe opened her eyes. Justin was staring right back at her.

  “Oh,” she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck. She had no idea how he had gotten here, in his sweatshirt and his tight thermal pants. It didn’t matter. Phoebe was holding on for dear life but she felt safe.

  “Close your eyes,” Justin whispered in her ear. Phoebe’s heart was racing in the most exhilarating way as she squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to let go.

  *****

  “Open your eyes,” Justin said. His warm breath tickled her ear.

  Phoebe opened her eyes slowly. She was still in his arms. She was also in an apartment.

  “We had to get out of there,” Justin explained. “I took you back to my place.”

  “What happened out there?” Phoebe asked. She looked into his captivating eyes, still holding onto his neck. She wasn’t going to let go any sooner than she had to. With Justin, she felt she had her voice.

  “It got ugly,” he said. Justin continued to carry her past a neat kitchen and a small living room. The next door was open. It was a bedroom, decorated simply with sky blue walls and midnight black sheets.

  Justin laid her down delicately, like he was afraid she’d break. Phoebe lounged comfortably on the covers. The bed was soft and she sunk down just enough. It almost felt like heaven. She
couldn’t believe she was here. She wasn’t scared at all.

  “What got ugly?” Phoebe asked. Justin sat on the edge of the bed and began to remove her shoes. With anyone else, this would be weird. They had just met after all. But with Justin, this just felt natural. It felt like she was supposed to be there.

  Phoebe watched Justin as he took off his sweatshirt. He was wearing a tight A-shirt underneath so she could admire his arms. His biceps were tight, but not bulging in that unattractive jock sort of a way. His skin was pale. It looked delicate and soft. Totally kissable.

  Phoebe wasn’t sure where that thought came from. It had been a while since she thought about a man that way. Staying at her parents’ house and losing her job had totally stunted her love life and her desire. But staring at Justin down seemed to light up something inside of her. And it seemed like he felt the same way.

  She didn’t move when Justin came closer. She didn’t move when his breath ghosted over her face. When he came even closer, she puckered her lips, only slightly. Then suddenly, his lips were on hers.

  His kiss was cold. That was the first thing she noticed. Cold and sweet, like she had just taken a sweet bite of ice cream. She couldn’t get enough. She immediately craved more. And Justin delivered. His lips pressed into hers, effortlessly leading the way as he hovered over her, supported by his strong arms. She tilted her head to the side slightly to kiss him at a different angle, following his lead.

  Justin kissed her long and soft, and then a little harder. His lips glided over hers like his skates glided over the ice. His hand slid to hold her, hand resting against the bed at the small of her back. Her eyes were close comfortably as he slid over her, slowly lowering his body on top of her. His skin was cool, but that was to be expected after spending all day at the hockey rink. There wasn’t a mark on his body, despite the brawl on the ice. Phoebe slid her arms around him, straining over the broad expanse of his chest and muscular back. Her mouth couldn’t get enough of him. They kept kissing and kissing. She parted her lips for him and felt his tongue brush lavishly over her own. She wanted to take him deeper. She wanted to take this further. She wasn’t scared at all.