Pin-Up Fireman

by Vonnie Davis

  Somewhat mollified, he forged ahead on a burst of breath. “But for how long?”

  Her eyebrows wrinkled. “How long, what?”

  “Baby, I’m thinking forever. I want it all with you and Matt and whoever else comes along.”

  She swallowed in that loud way she had when she was nervous. “Wh…what do you mean by forever?”

  Damn if he hadn’t allowed her to box him into that corner. He glanced away to think how he needed to phrase this—obviously, very delicately. “I want us to work toward a future that includes marriage, because that’s how strongly I love you. I’m not ready to propose yet. As you said, we need to get Matt straightened out first. But I want to be up front here.” He sliced the air with the edge of his hand. “One day, I want to put a wedding band on your finger. Maybe six months from now. A year, or more. Whenever we’re both ready. Take a few days to think about it, to see if you want to work toward the same thing.”

  She nodded as if he’d knocked her speechless.

  He couldn’t go into it anymore. First, he needed to get his temperament smoothed out. “I don’t know about you, but I need to stop at a drive-in somewhere for coffee and a sandwich. Or I won’t have the energy to handle that boy once he’s home.” He placed his hands on the backs of her thighs. “Sweetness, I love you to a degree I can’t begin to explain. You need to think and gauge how much you love me. We need to make sure we’re on the same relationship page.”

  “I will. Thank you for sharing your feelings. Your honesty is one of the many things I admire about you.” She extended her hand. “Come on, my man, I’m starving too.”

  Later they walked into Matt’s room to find him dressed and his books in a bag. He clutched to Fella and was nearly in tears. His arms outstretched to Boyd.

  “Hey, buddy, what is it?”

  “I…I’m afraid they won’t let me go home once…once I tell them how bad my feet hurt.”

  Both Boyd and Graci-Ella looked at a pair of sneakers tied onto the wrong feet. Boyd covered his mouth, spun and started laughing. Graci-Ella backhanded his ass.

  “Oh, that sneaky raccoon. Did he make you put your sneakers on the wrong feet?” She crouched and untied his shoes, removing them. “Raccoons are tricky like that.”

  Boyd turned just in time to see Matt run the heel of his palm over the end of his nose. “I…I didn’t know.”

  Graci-Ella reached for a tissue and handed it to him, without missing a beat. Then she kissed the top of each foot before she put the sneakers back on him. “It was just a little mistake. We’ll forgive Fella this time. Okay?”

  Matt smiled. “Okay. I wish you were my mom. You make me feel good.” He pointed to the area of her surgery. “Let me see your scar. Is it any better today?” His fingertip trailed the incision. “I think it’s healing.”

  “Probably because of that kiss you gave it yesterday.” She gave a huge sigh. “If only I could get another kiss, I know it would feel better.”

  “Didn’t my dad hug and kiss you today?”

  “I think that’s none of your business wise guy.” Boyd tapped the end of Matt’s nose. He was growing up too fast or witnessing too much at his mother’s place. Boyd didn’t even want his mind to go there.

  “To be honest, Matt, he did. But I’m not sure if he does as good a job as you do.”

  Matt heaved a sigh just as she’d done a minute earlier and held out his little arms. “Okay then.” He kissed her incision and hugged her until she grunted. “Dad, what’s wrong with you? She smells so good. You should be hugging her a lot.”

  Graci-Ella flashed Boyd one of her heart-stopping smiles. “Yeah, Dad, you should be hugging me a lot.” Then she had the audacity to wink. Oh, she would pay.

  A member of the hospital auxiliary pushed a wheelchair into the room. “Do we have a young man in here ready to go home?”

  Once they were all buckled in the Mustang, Matt started. “Graci-Fella, are you a good cook? ‘Cause I was thinking. You could stay at our place this evening and cook us some shrimp pasta and then watch a movie. Do you like Transformers? I’ve got all their movies. And do you put a lot of shrimp in your pasta, ’cause I like a lot of shrimp. We could all snuggle on the sofa—Dad, you, me and Fella—just like a real family. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds like you better take me to my place so I can pick up my rental and buy some shrimp at the seafood store. I do have to get up early for work tomorrow.” She glanced at Boyd as if measuring his reaction.

  “Will this be too hard on you? I’m not wild about you driving home late at night. We could order in pizza.”

  A six-year old groan sounded from the back seat. “Not pizza again. Can’t we just drive her home when it’s bedtime, Dad?”

  “We’ll still need to stop at the market so I can get the ingredients. You guys get what you want in your salad.”

  Boyd glanced over his shoulder to Matt in the back seat and nearly exploded with laugher at Matt’s widened eyes. “Salad comes with the shrimp pasta, buddy.”

  “If she makes it, I’ll eat it. Well, a bite, anyway.” There was a pregnant pause. “Hope I don’t throw it back up.”

  They carried in their groceries, and Boyd ordered Matt to bed for a nap after the kid showed her his bedroom, decorated with spaceships and fish.

  “Why don’t you lie down with him and let him show you his books, while I make the salad and wash the vegies for the shrimp pasta?” Her warm blue eyes waited for his reply.

  “Make the salad and then come in his room and snuggle in with us. We’ll all three take a nap.” Would she think that was too much togetherness? He didn’t want her to overdo if she was starting back to work tomorrow—a week too soon in his opinion.

  From behind them came a devilish little voice of wisdom. “The family who naps together stays together.”

  Boyd whipped his head around as did Graci-Ella. Where does he pick up these sayings? He guessed now would be a time for her to make another step or hold her ground. Hell, he was just happy she’d agreed to cook for them and watch a movie.

  He looked at her shocked expression. Her gaze traversing from Matt to the kitchen to him. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “Yes!” Matt gave a fist pump and charged back to his bedroom.

  Boyd slid his hand across the small of her back. “Sweetness, do you want me to talk to him? I’ll tell him relationships move at a slower pace. He gets being pushy from his dad.”

  Her gaze rose to meet his. “Gee, who would have guessed?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ten minutes after her male escorts brought her home, hugged and kissed her goodnight, Graci-Ella was in her pajamas looking for a new car online. She’d loved her Rav-4 and wanted another one with a sun roof and side airbags, preferably in white. A couple dealers in Tampa had what she wanted. She printed out their addresses to visit after work tomorrow. It would feel odd to walk back into the firm again after being on sick leave for so long.

  She crawled into bed and smiled over their cocooned snuggling in Matt’s double bed. When she lay down, the little guy was against the wall, big guy was in the middle and she clung for dear life to the edge of the bed. Boyd suggested they all lay on their sides, so everyone had enough room. Matt’s little hand barely reached his dad’s arm. Boyd’s arm with the nearly full-sleeve tattoo wrapped around her and settled on her breast. She traced his design with her fingernail.

  The closeness didn’t take her long to drift off and, at one point, the bed shifted and Boyd’s hand moved off her breast for an instant. A sigh filled the room followed by a whispered, “Now I feel like an Oreo cookie. I’m safe. No one can make me sit in one spot for hours.” Boyd grunted and she figured she’d dreamed the whole thing until an hour or so later when she woke to find Matt on his side snuggled securely between them, his one little arm around Fella.

  Early morning brought the music from her clock radio and her usual hurried routine. She strode into the office building, a large cappuccino in one hand and her briefcas
e in the other. The black sheath she wore showcased the weight she’d lost during her time off. Her pink and black dotted scarf and pink stilettoes brightened the dress. She stepped on the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor. Across the door to her office was a banner that read, “Welcome Back!” She peeled it off carefully and walked into her office, expecting to find all her plants dead from lack of water.

  To her surprise, they were all green and healthy looking. There was a new flowering plant with a card. “I took care of your green babies until you got back. The wife picked out this new one for you. Sure have missed your smiling face around here. Jo-Jo.”

  She smiled and rubbed her finger over his shaky scrawl. He was the nicest man.

  As quickly as she could, she went through her back mail, tossing away ads and legal magazines she wouldn’t have time to read anyway. She turned on her computer and logged into her email. She went through her files to prepare for court, thankful to see someone had taken at least half of them. Taking note of the cases going to court in two weeks, she removed them from the top of the pile. Once she’d emptied the worst of her two-thousand plus emails, she’d scan over these files.

  She deleted the emails about meetings she’d missed and the cartoons everyone felt compelled to send to everybody in the office. Those emails from the partners, she read. Next she skimmed through the messages from the junior partners.

  By now, her cappuccino was gone and her head was pounding. She emptied two prescription pills in her hand and strode up the hallway to the water dispenser. On her way, a couple people hurried by and blurted, “Welcome back. How are you feeling?” Since they never stopped to hear her response, she figured they weren’t all that concerned. She rounded the corner and got a cup of coffee and a pack of Oreos from the snack machines. Matt and his cookie analogy. Just what did he mean by having to sit in one spot for hours? She’d have to talk to him privately. Maybe he’d open up to her.

  She went back to her office to attack the remainder of her emails, deleting many. Then she saw two from the same email address: kissylips@mugo.com. Her heart rate kicked up. One was written three weeks ago. She opened it and read the message: I was out of jail long before you’ll get out of the hospital. No signature. No threat. So, she opened the second one. You look a little cramped in that faded red compact you’re driving. Wait until I push it off the road. Maybe off a bridge somewhere.

  Okay, now I’m freaking.

  She swiped through her phone contacts, but had nothing for the officers who investigated the accident. She could call Boyd, but he’d go into his protective mode. So, she called Ivy Jo to ask if she had any information about the policemen who arrested Darryl at the scene of the accident. Meanwhile Graci-Ella wiped damp hands on her skirt. How did he know her work email or what kind of car she was driving? Shivers made a round trip through her system. So did a strong dose of fear. He must be watching her—the crazy man who’d run her off the road, trying to kill her—was watching her.

  “Gee, hon, that was over a month ago. Give me a second to think. Sorry I’m so slow on the ball. Today is my yearly mammogram and pap smear, and I’m concentrating on that. Okay, I remember now. Lieutenant Lithgow.”

  Graci-Ella scribbled his name on a legal pad. “Thank you, friend. Sorry to bother you on your day off. Good luck with your tests. Bye now.” She ended the call and phoned the police department, asking if Lieutenant Lithgow was in. Her first question, when he came on the line, was if Darryl Weir was out on bond.

  “Yes, he is. His family made bail…” papers rustled. “Two days after his preliminary hearing.”

  “And no one thought to tell me? I had to find out in two creepy emails from him on my first day back at work? Somehow he found out my work email address. He’s been watching me; knows what kind of car I’m driving and is making threats.” Anger and terror both raced like swimmers through her veins.

  “Ms. Santana, can you forward those emails to me? Don’t delete the originals. Here’s my address.” She forwarded them both to him. “Reading them now. Do you want an escort to and from your law firm?”

  She took a deep breath and fought to gain control of her runaway emotions. Her fingers ran over the side of her head where her headache was having one hellacious bang of a party. “No, but thanks for the offer. It seems a little excessive, doesn’t it? No doubt he’d just trying to scare the bejesus out of me, which he did. I can take care of myself if I know what I’m up against. The last person I expected to hear from was him. It really threw me off guard. Do you have the name of his lawyer and the trial date?” She made notes, crossed out her nervous scribbling because even she couldn’t read it and rewrote everything more legible.

  She fingered the folder on top. Trial date was November third. Last name, Calloway. Dear God, no! “Look, Lieutenant, I have to go. Thank you for the information.” She flipped the cover of the folder and stared at the client’s name until it became forever etched in her mind—Chantel Calloway.

  Graci-Ella fought her tears.

  She was being watched by the deranged man who’d tried to kill her.

  She was in love with a wonderful man who loved his son more than anything.

  And she was the lawyer assigned to represent the ex in a case to take Matt away from him.

  She flipped through the pages in the file, skimming over the typical legal jargon and concentrating on the pertinent details of the case. Chantel had certainly portrayed Boyd as a completely different man than the one Graci-Ella knew. She read over the private investigator’s report, which read more like the man she loved.

  There was no way she could represent Chantel. Graci-Ella was having sex with the accused—talk about a conflict of interest. She groaned and laid her head on the desk. What a great day this way turning out to be.

  Her office phone rang and it was the receptionist telling her flowers had just been delivered for her. She smiled and strode toward the firm’s entrance. They had to be from Boyd or maybe her parents. Bethany, the firm’s receptionist, glanced at her oddly and pointed to the vase of white lilies and black roses. Graci-Ella’s mouth went dry. She knew before she read the card who they were from.

  Touching only the edges of the card, she read, “With deepest sympathies for your upcoming funeral.” There was no signature, of course, but she knew. She removed the plastic card holder.

  “Bethany, would you please throw these away? They’re from the man who ran me off the road. He’s out on bail and sending me threats.”

  The pretty blonde’s jaw dropped. “Oh, Graci-Ella. How awful! Have you called the police?”

  “I did after I got threatening emails from the whack job here at work. Looks like I’ll need to call again.” She pulled her cell from her dress pocket and dialed Lieutenant Lithgow. He told her he’d be by to get the card with the message. She thanked Bethany one more time and prodded back to her office, stopping at the snack machines to buy a bottle of water. Time to quit thinking about Darryl’s scare tactics and work on the really important issue—the custody trial that was about to destroy so many lives, including hers.

  She peeked into Patrick’s office as she passed by and knocked on his door frame. He spun around. “Hey, look whose back! How are you doing?”

  “Not so good. I have a case Elizabeth gave me that’s a direct conflict of interest. I’ll trade it for three of yours.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “A custody case. I never looked at the name on the folder when Elizabeth handed it to me, except to check on the trial date. I’m dating the ex-husband. It’s gotten serious and I’m very close to the child they’re fighting over.”

  “Hell, that certainly comes under the heading of conflict of interest. When’s the trial date?” He opened his calendar.

  “November third.” She crossed both of her fingers.

  “Can’t. I’ve got two trials that day too. Did you ask Joe?”

  She exhaled a sigh of disappointment. “No, but I will. Thank
s, anyhow.” She pivoted toward her office and ran into one of the senior partners, Sterling Hughes. “Oops! I’m sorry.”

  “Jesus Christ!” He yanked off his glassed her boobs had crashed into and knocked out of kilter. He scowled as he wiped the lenses with his handkerchief. Was it her fault she was so tall and he wasn’t quite average height? “I was on my way to your office. We need to have a discussion.”

  Was she getting fired? She’d been off work for over a month, and the firm had a strict policy about not missing a lot of time. Well, this would certainly take care of her conflict of interest, wouldn’t it?

  She led the way into her small, but pretty office space and offered him a seat. He glanced around. “Last time I peeked in here, it was a hovel. You’ve worked hard to make your space very nice.” He nodded and sat in one of the leather client chairs she loved so much. “Very nice, indeed.”

  He glanced at her for a minute with glasses that now sat crooked on his nose. “You’ve lost weight. The scar from your brain surgery is bigger than I expected. I understand you’re getting threats from the man who ran you off the road. Bethany thinks a lot of you and she stopped me to tell me what happened with the flowers. She said there were more threats. Care to tell me about them?” He unbuttoned his suit jacket as if settling in for a long conversation. “Did you know him before the accident?”

  She reminded him of the firemen’s calendar she was photographing of the top notch firefighting unit. Sterling Hughes nodded. As she gave him the short version of the story, he frowned. His lips narrowed when she told him about Darryl running her off the road into a group of trees. She asked him if he wanted to read the emails she got from him.