Fire and Romance

by Melanie Shawn

“I shouldn’t have carried it?” she clarified.

  “No.”

  He could not be serious. She was not some wilting flower. Did he have any idea how physically strong she had to be to work with patients? How many patients she had to lift into bed, out of bed, help sit down, help get up?

  And that was just in her professional life. Did he have any idea the things she’d had to carry in the past year in her personal life? The kids, the groceries, her sister.

  A perfect storm of anger brewed inside of her. Anger from everything that had happened to her sister. Anger with how Paulo had abandoned his family and she’d had to pick up the pieces. Anger at Simon for taking advantage of a low time in her life and being a lying, cheating pig. Anger at Marco for treating her like an annoyance after sleeping with her.

  She took a step toward him and spoke with a deadly calm that had his eyes widening. “Okay, Tarzan, well the last time I checked, my name is not Jane, and I’m not some damsel in distress. So you can save the caveman routine for someone who needs it.”

  She expected him to turn and leave without another word, but instead, the corners of his mouth lifted. “You know Tarzan wasn’t a caveman.”

  “Seriously?!” Was he trying to piss her off?

  He nodded earnestly as his eyes twinkled with devilish delight. “Seriously. He was an Englishman, not a Neanderthal.”

  In an attempt not to smile, she pursed her lips together, but it was too late. He saw that his charms had worked on her and his own smile spread, which caused that damn dimple to appear above his left cheek.

  A funny feeling fluttered in her core.

  No, she reprimanded herself.

  His phone buzzed, and he cursed under his breath as he pulled it out of his pocket. “I have to go. I’ll try to come home for dinner. What’s your number?”

  “Why?” she asked defensively.

  His charms may have worked to dissipate her anger momentarily, but if he thought everything was back to normal between them, he was crazy.

  “In case I need to get a hold of you, or vice versa. If Pops needs something.”

  Oh, right. Because she was here to work. She forgot that she’d had to message him on Facebook after the reunion to check and see if Pops was better because she didn’t have his phone number.

  So, she gave it to him and he left.

  When she heard the front door shut, a sense of relief fell over her. The hard part was done. She’d seen him. They’d talked. Sort of. And now all she had to do was get through the next three weeks without killing him or falling in love with him. She couldn’t be drawn in by his smile, his eyes, his arms, his dimple, his charm, or his wit. She couldn’t think about how amazing being kissed, touched, and loved by him had been.

  She needed to keep professional walls up. Do her job. And go home.

  She’d contracted Malaria and Typhoid fever while she was in Tanzania with the Peace Corps and had had no running water or toilet paper. She could do this. No problem. Compared to that this would be a walk in the park…or, at least that’s what she was telling herself to keep the panic attack at bay.

  Walk in the park.

  Chapter 14

  ‡

  The sun beat down on the back of Marco’s neck as he stood and evaluated the trainees. The firefighters were completing the first level of conditioning in the training program that he and Evan had developed. Each candidate would need to pass the WCT fitness standard for fire line personnel before they could officially be hired onto the hotshot crew. He had a good feeling about most of them. There were only a couple that he saw were struggling.

  He made a mental note to keep an eye on them but then decided to pull out his notepad and make an actual note. It was quite an adjustment for him to stop what he was doing and write down everything he needed to remember because his mind had always been a steel trap. But, since he’d started cohabitating with Sydney, his mental notes were about as reliable as a broken condom.

  The timing of his distraction couldn’t have been worse. This opportunity was the biggest he’d had in his career. At thirty, he was practically geriatric for a hotshot. The average age was twenty-four. If he messed this up, that was it. There was no second chance at this.

  After he’d jotted down his notes, he flipped the memo pad shut and pushed it back in his pocket.

  It was the first day that they’d been outside all week and Marco could not be happier about it. They’d been stuck indoors all through the interviews, the hiring, and the first part of the training process.

  He’d started feeling claustrophobic, like the walls were closing in on him. Not the actual walls. They were keeping their distance. But the emotional walls kept inching closer and closer until it got to the point that he’d felt like he was trapped.

  One week beneath the same roof as Sydney had been torture. They were barely on speaking terms, and when they did talk, it was with a false politeness. They were treating each other like strangers. After that initial moment in the kitchen, all of their interactions had been sterile and impersonal.

  It was driving him crazy.

  She hadn’t said anything about their night together. Or that she’d gotten engaged. Or that the engagement had ended. She’d told him a little bit about how Devon was doing, but that was only because he’d asked.

  The strain on his and Sydney’s relationship wasn’t affecting her and Pops’ in the least. Those two were thick as thieves. Marco had forgotten how many inside jokes they had. The few times they’d all had dinner together, he’d felt like an outsider at his own table. He had always loved the way Sydney got along with his family.

  Just like he’d loved the way that she smiled right before she said something witty. As if she’d rehearsed the line in her head and it was showtime. And like he’d loved the way tiny baby hairs framed her forehead whenever she pulled her hair up. And like he’d loved the way her infectious smile could light up even his darkest day.

  He missed her. He missed his friend. That was the worst part of being so close to her and yet so far away.

  “How are they looking?” Evan asked as he joined him, he’d been down at City Hall securing the permits for the offsite warehouse they were moving into, hopefully next week, and would be using as base camp.

  “Good. I’m keeping an eye on Jones, Rice, and Longmire, but the rest look good. Everything all good with the city?”

  “It is. The inspectors haven’t found any code violations and the permits should be issued by the end of the week. We should be in the building by midweek.”

  “Great.”

  The two men observed the group silently for a few minutes before Evan commented, “I had concerns about Jones’s physical aptitude, he might need a little hand-holding. I do feel like he’d be an asset, though. He has a great work ethic, and all of his recommendations read like best man toasts.”

  “They did,” Marco agreed with a chuckle.

  Each letter included a story about what Jones meant to the writer, how he’d helped them out in some way, or how their lives were better because of him.

  “I think Rice is preserving his energy. He’s got the juice. I just think he’s conserving it.”

  Marco had to agree. It was evident that Rice wasn’t as gassed as the rest of the group.

  “Longmire’s wife is due any day. He might be distracted.”

  “Yeah.” Marco had forgotten that.

  “We’ll have to wait and see if he can handle the schedule.” Evan didn’t sound too optimistic. “This isn’t for everyone.”

  “Right.”

  “Reyes!” Marco heard his name and turned and saw Randy, the equipment mechanic, up by the firehouse. “You have visitors!”

  “Go ahead. I’ve got this.” Evan instructed.

  Marco had had two visitors in all the time he’d been with Engine 23. They’d both been women that he’d spent time with while they were here on vacation and were stopping by to give him going away presents. One was chocolate chip cookies. The other was som
ething edible you couldn’t fit in a tin can. Hope Falls had a pretty steady flow of tourism year round, so it was easy not to dip his pen in the company ink. He didn’t mess with townies. This place was way too small for casual hookups.

  He walked around the corner and saw Randy in the bay, with no one else around. He gave him a questioning look.

  “They’re in with the chief.”

  “The chief?”

  Marco was halfway across the floor when he heard Pops’ booming voice. “There’s my boy!”

  He turned around and saw Sydney wheeling Pops out of the bunkroom with Jake following behind them. The sight knocked the wind right out of Marco.

  Seeing Sydney in his house was one thing. Seeing her here, in the firehouse, was somehow more than that. Maybe it was because the station was his real home.

  Her long hair was down around her shoulders. She was wearing blue jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and tennis shoes. She looked perfect, like this was exactly where she belonged.

  Sydney lifted her hand in a wave as a sheepish smile curled on her lips. “Hi.”

  “Hi. I didn’t know you guys were stopping by today.”

  “I wanted to text you, but—”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Pops interjected. “Gotta keep our boy on his toes.”

  Jake smiled at Pops. “I gave them the cheap tour.”

  “Do you guys want to come out back and see what we’re doing?” Marco held his hand out towards the open bay door.

  “Sure!” Pops eagerly agreed.

  Sydney didn’t seem as enthusiastic. “We know you’re busy. We don’t want to bother you.”

  “He’s not that busy,” Pops dismissed her. “Lead the way.”

  As the three of them made their way out to the training tower, Marco was briefly hypnotized by the sunlight hitting Sydney’s hair. When he was a kid, he’d had a kaleidoscope and he used to look into it and be mesmerized by the beauty. That’s always what Sydney’s hair reminded him of when the sun hit it. Individual strands of gold, copper, and bronze all shimmered as the light reflected off of them.

  When they got close enough to watch, Sydney stopped at a spot where Pops was in the shade.

  “You should be in the shade, too.”

  “I’m fine.” She smiled politely, but her words were wound tight as a drum.

  “Why don’t you guys go over to—” He pointed to the canopy that they’d set up for the trainees. There was shade, water, and a few chairs.

  “We’re fine.”

  It seemed every time he said anything she said the opposite. He missed being able to just talk to her.

  Whatever was going on between them didn’t change the circumstances. Her hair might do great but her skin was too fair to be out in the direct sun, and if things were normal between them, he’d tell her that. But they weren’t. He would argue with her, but after a week of losing battles, he’d decided to go a different route.

  He was trying to come up with one when he saw Jones struggling.

  “Hey Pops, I need to go work with one of the recruits. Do you think you could do me a favor and time the rest of them? I need to see how far off they are from the times they need to be at to pass.”

  “Sure,” Pops sat up in his chair, and his chest puffed out. “I can do that.”

  Marco smiled at the memory of his grandfather timing him after school as he ran drills. He’d only suggested it so he could get them to the tented area that had shade and bottles of water.

  “You guys can come this way.”

  He led them to the tented area and Sydney didn’t argue and followed dutifully. He handed Pops the timer and the clipboard and then left to go work with Jones.

  Sydney tipped an imaginary hat to him. “Well, played, sir.”

  He winked at her and couldn’t help the smile that was on his face as he jogged over to the tower.

  That was what he missed the most. Those small exchanges. He missed his friend.

  *

  Sydney was glad that she hadn’t been tasked with timing anything because she was having a hard time even remembering to breathe. She’d known that coming here and visiting Marco had been a bad idea. But, she couldn’t exactly tell a grandfather that wanted to see where his grandson worked, no. So she’d come. She’d seen. And now she was paying the price.

  She was awestruck at the display of male perfection that was before her. And she wasn’t talking about the sweaty, muscular firemen that looked like they were shooting a Men’s Fitness cover. She was referring to one firefighter, in particular: their captain.

  Watching Marco lead the drill was by far the hottest thing she’d ever seen. And she’d seen Alexander Skarsgard at Runyon Canyon, shirtless, right before he shot The Legend of Tarzan. There was no way she’d ever imagined a scenario that would top seeing Eric Northman on steroids, in real life.

  But, boy oh boy, had she been wrong because this was it.

  As amazing as his sheer physical beauty had her in a state of wonder, that wasn’t even the most captivating part of what she was witnessing. It was the way he spoke with a commanding authority. He took charge and even made harsh corrections but did it all with respect.

  She’d known that he was a firefighter, but seeing him in his environment, was something else. It was the biggest aphrodisiac she’d ever experienced.

  No, she reprimanded herself.

  She couldn’t let herself go there. She’d done an excellent job so far at keeping her emotional dam in place and not allowing all the things she felt for him to burst out and flood her. No matter how tempted she’d been to slip into their easy banter, she’d restrained herself.

  Except for acknowledging his move to get them beneath the tented shade. That was so smooth she had to address it.

  “Did you see that?” Pops asked, pointing in Marco’s direction.

  “Yes.” Her mouth was watering like a fountain.

  “Look at my boy.”

  “I am.” And also trying not to drool.

  As she watched him maneuver over, around, and through the obstacle course, she got goosebumps on the back of her neck and arms, and it had nothing to do with being chilly. It was in the mid-nineties, and for being a mountain town, it had little to no breeze today.

  She was mesmerized by his large hands, and could vividly remember what they’d felt like on her bare skin. She was hypnotized by his broad chest and could still feel the tiny hairs that brushed against her nipples as he’d moved on top of her. She was entranced by the strength and agility he displayed and missed the sensation of feeling his body pressed against hers.

  Her entire body tingled with awareness at the memory.

  “You’re buzzin’,” Pops announced loudly beside her, startling her.

  She jumped, and her eyes widened as they shot down to him. How could he know that electrical currents charged by his grandson were racing through her? Was she that obvious about her condition?

  “Your phone.” He motioned to her purse. “It’s buzzin’.”

  “Right.” She reached into her bag and pulled her phone out as she stepped away from the tent, turning her back to the training so she could take the call with a degree of privacy. She’d texted a picture to Devon that she’d taken at lunch and she knew that she would need to explain it.

  “He—”

  “You met Kyle Austen Reed!” Her sister didn’t even let her finish the greeting. “Holy s-h-i-t!”

  “Are the kids there?” Their dad was supposed to pick them up the day before.

  “No. Why?”

  “You spell cussed.”

  “Oh, force of habit,” her sister brushed off before yelling, “Now tell me everything!”

  Sydney laughed as she held the phone away from her ear. When she put it back, she spoke quietly, so her fangirl moment wasn’t easily overheard. “Okay, so Pops and I were having lunch at this quaint little café in town. Which, I don’t know if I told you, but the downtown area is so cute. It’s like a postcard. There are wooden sidewalks,
and sweet shops with colorful signs, and lampposts that have twinkle lights on them. Oh, and this river that runs through town and the whole thing is surrounded by the majestic mountain rang—”

  “Sydney.” Devon snapped. “Kyle Austen Reed. Focus.”

  “Sorry,” she chuckled. “Okay, so I was sitting there, eating lunch with Pops, the door chimes and I look up and there he was. It was just like that scene in Sunrise Valentine when he walks into the train station, and the sunlight is behind him creating an ethereal glow all around him.”

  “It was?”

  “Yes. And then he walked by our table and up to the counter to pick up a takeout order.”

  “A takeout order,” her sister parroted in a reverent whisper.

  “Yes, and everyone in the place knew him.”

  “Yeah. Of course, they did.” Her sister said, like Sydney was crazy.

  “No, I’m not saying they knew who he was, they knew him. Some woman gave him back earphones that Angel had left at her house.”

  “Angel! His stepdaughter, the one that he named his foundation after.”

  “Yes.” She and Devon had watched a special on E! about him and his family. His wife, Aurora, was a single mom of a young fan—Angel—who was in the hospital due to complications from being paraplegic. Kyle met them both when he went to visit Angel in the hospital. He said it was love at first sight the moment he saw Aurora. They’d ended up getting married, he adopted Angel, and they eventually started The Angel Foundation for families with sick children.

  They’d seen the special about a dozen times.

  “And another guy came up and gave Kyle a bad time for some book club thing he went to.”

  “He goes to book club meetings?”

  Sydney could hear her sister swooning.

  “Apparently.”

  “So how did you get the picture?”

  It was so funny to Sydney that Devon had been married to a professional athlete and had met her fair share of celebrities, but was still star-struck over Kyle Austen Reed.

  “Oh, right. Um, so he picked up his food, and I was trying to build up the courage to talk to him when he turned to leave. He walked right past our table, and I chickened out. I couldn’t think of anything to say to him. Then, he turns around and comes back and introduces himself—”