Rescue Me: Park City Firefighter Romance

by Hart, Taylor

  She laughed. “I don’t know how you do that, sis, but life is better when I’m smoking pot.”

  Despite the horribleness of the situation, Sam smiled.

  “So, any hot guys?”

  Sam thought of Damon. “Nope.”

  “Liar.”

  Sam knew she couldn’t hide it from Zoey. She dipped her brush in blue and then stroked it onto the canvas.

  “You always clam up when there’s a hot guy.”

  “He …”

  “How’d you meet him?”

  Sam recounted the story of the cliffs.

  “You tell me I’m crazy ’cause I smoke a little pot, but you were diving off cliffs? Really?”

  It was slightly refreshing to hear her sister actually care, but she brushed her worries aside. “It isn’t so dramatic.”

  “Well, if the guy thought it was dramatic enough to dive in after you, it must have been bad. And the guy is a firefighter?”

  “That’s what his brother told me.”

  “Is he hot?”

  Sam didn’t answer.

  Zoey giggled. “He is hot, isn’t he?”

  Then Sam smiled. “Yeah, he is. So what? His brother also told me he dropped out of Harvard and just came back to town. Ten years. He was gone ten years.”

  “Why?”

  It was funny to Sam that she hadn’t thought about why. Not really. She continued making the petals of the flower. “I don’t know.”

  Her sister laughed again, and Sam envisioned her sucking down more pot smoke. “For being such a hotshot attorney, you sure haven’t asked the right questions.”

  Sam thought about kissing him. She cleaned the blue and dipped the brush in yellow.

  “Oh my gosh, you kissed him, didn’t you?”

  Now it was just getting eerie. “Whatever.”

  “No whatever. I just had a perfectly clear vision of you and this hunk-o-mania full on making out.”

  Zoey always liked to pretend she was clairvoyant too. “Whatever.”

  She giggled. “Okay, I can’t see it, but you did. Tell me.”

  The only thing she told her sister was the worst part. “I slapped him.”

  “What?”

  She laughed, thinking about the whole crazy attraction thing. “I … I actually kissed him. Then I slapped him.” She finished the center, cleaned the brush with water, and thought about red for a layering petal.

  Zoey tsked her tongue, letting out more laughter. “Man, you have issues.”

  She laughed. “Shut up.”

  “When do you get to see the mysterious guy again?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Give him a chance.”

  “Uh, no. I have a plan.” The red was brilliant, and the petals around the petals were beautiful.

  Zoey laughed harder. “Plans are meant to be messed up. Plus, you need to go out and have more fun.”

  “Okay.” Both of them knew she wouldn’t do it. “Bye, sis.” She whispered, thinking she was ready to go back to bed. She had to be up early to check on some projects.

  “Love you. And don’t worry about me.”

  5

  Damon entered the fire station to start his go-round. Dropping his bag onto his bed, he immediately began inspecting his room. It was normal for the shift you followed to be good about the handoff. They typically kept things clean and orderly.

  That was procedure and standard, but it differed from guy to guy. What would be tolerated and considered standard also varied between the different captains on each shift.

  It had only been a week, and he already knew he didn’t like working in Park City.

  Shocker, right? There were far fewer calls than at his old fire engine in Boston. The people were different here. And sure, fine, he could admit it—he wasn’t captain.

  It was his own fault, but still.

  Whatever. He knew he should be grateful just to be here and have a job, but he didn’t feel grateful.

  He began the process of putting his own sheets on the bed, put his clothes away, and headed straight to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.

  The guys were sitting around the table. There were only six people on his shift, and they were A Platoon. It was definitely a smaller crew than Boston.

  He took a seat at a table and waited to receive his assignments for the day from the captain.

  Tommy Swenson, aka the jerk from high school, dropped into the chair next to him. “Hey, Boston, how are ya?”

  He pinched his lips together and tried to ignore the jibe. Last week Tommy had come up with the cute name. Damon, of course, would never let him know it bugged him.

  “It’s your new name now, so you may as well get used to it.” He gave him a screwy face and sipped some coffee.

  “Oh, I’m fine with it.”

  “You are?” Tommy gave him a doubtful look. Jake dropped into the seat next to him, then Heather, then Tyler

  “Yeah, I’m fine with it.” Damon tried to give off his best jerk persona. Which wasn’t hard. “As long as you don’t mind your nickname of ‘Tommy Tommy two-by-four, can’t get through the kitchen door.’”

  The others laughed, and Damon took a bit of pleasure in seeing Tommy ticked off. He was a bit thick through the middle.

  Tommy laughed. “All right, sure. Whatever. Want to meet us at Pineapple’s after our shift? He’ll set up a ring in back. We’re doing some training for that boxing thing.”

  Damon waited a beat then looked at the others and grinned. “No.”

  The others roared with laughter.

  The captain’s lip tugged up, and he glanced away from his coffee to Tommy. “The name kind of fits. Maybe you should up your training if you’re going to represent the FD in the boxing match in a couple of weeks.”

  Tommy stood, glaring at all of them. “Nobody can take me.” He gestured to Damon. “If he thinks he can, we’ll just have to have ourselves a private match.”

  “Nope.” Damon flashed him a taunting grin. “Don’t fight people who aren’t any competition.”

  Jake leaned back, a big grin on his face. “I think you’re going to fit in around here, Boston.”

  The nickname didn’t sound bad coming from Jake, but he played his part and ignored the nicety, scowling.

  The rest of them laughed. This was the part of firefighting he’d always enjoyed. The camaraderie.

  Captain Castro stood and jotted a few things on the white board as he gave them a rundown of the day. Of what needed to be done chore wise and in terms of maintenance. And anything else he thought they should know. At the end, he hesitated, turning to Damon. “As Tommy mentioned, the boxing match is coming up in a couple of weeks. I’d prefer to beat the cops this year.”

  Tommy scoffed. “I told you. I’ve been sparring and practicing. I got it.”

  The captain kept his eyes on Damon. “Nick Freestone won it last year. I’m thinking we might have to change it up this year.”

  All eyes fell to Tommy, who was ticked. He stood. “What? You don’t think I got it?”

  Captain Castro coolly spread his hands. “I didn’t say that, I said maybe we should try someone else.” Again, he looked at Damon.

  Damon shook his head. “Not gonna happen.” He stood, and his chair scraped against the cement floor.

  Jake pushed his chair back, grinning and turning to Damon. “Let’s do it, I’ll even train you!” He started jabbing the air. “Rocky Balboa, baby!”

  Tommy stood too. “How about we have an early fight to see who takes on the cops? Like a day or two before?” He turned to the captain.

  The captain shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

  Damon gave them all a cold stare. “I’m not doing it.”

  Captain Castro pointed at him. “I want to talk to you in my office. The rest of you yahoos get chores done.”

  “He’s gonna rip you a new one.” Tommy quipped quietly as Damon walked past him.

  Damon ignored the comment and followed the captain up to his office, a bit ne
rvous.

  The captain sat behind his desk and gestured for Damon to sit. Normally, Damon wouldn’t, but he respected the captain.

  “What’s up, Cap?”

  He let out a breath. “Damon, I knew when I vouched for you there would be complications, but I really need you to play better with the other guys.”

  He frowned. “Where is this coming from?”

  He sighed. “Tommy told me that after last shift you harassed him. We can’t be having that.”

  Damon burned inside. “Oh, really, I harassed him, huh?”

  Captain nodded. “He filled out a form on you, and it had to be taken to HR. I hate to see these kinds of things happen. He said something about not feeling like it was a safe work environment.”

  Now Damon really wanted to ram his fist into Tommy’s head.

  “But I know Tommy, so I’m going to sit on this incident. Sometimes Tommy takes time getting to know the others coming in.”

  “I’ve known him since high school,” Damon said coldly.

  Captain Castro shrugged. “Well, I just want to be clear that I need a good community here at the station. Whatever happened between you and Tommy in high school needs to be kept in the past. Are we clear?”

  He was stunned, having problems getting a grip on what exactly he was supposed to do with this information. He needed to figure it out because it was more than just Damon’s reputation on the line. “We’re clear.”

  Captain Castro grinned. “I do want you to win that boxing match. I figure you owe me that. I like the idea of an early match to see who gets to go fight the PD. What do you think?”

  Even though Damon knew he’d been set up—Tommy being a jerk, then Cap telling him about the report—he actually thought it might be fun to pound the guy. “Fine.”

  Captain Castro smiled, about to dismiss him, but he didn’t have to because the tones went off, alerting everyone to a call.

  When he was rushing to get his turnouts on, Tommy came up next to him. “How was the trouble?”

  Damon ignored him, putting on his clothes quickly.

  Tommy shoved his arm into his turnout coat, blatantly giving Damon an elbow to the face before turning. “Oh, oops.” He flashed a grin.

  They ran to the truck.

  “Hey, Tommy,” Damon called out in front of the others. Tommy stared at him. “The only way you’re fighting my brother is if you get through me first.”

  “Ohh!” Jake called out. “It’s on!”

  Heather and Tyler taunted Tommy as well.

  Five minutes later, the truck pulled up to a residential neighborhood in Park City. As soon as they arrived, they saw the thick, dark smoke pouring through the top of the roof.

  The captain called for another crew to shut off the gas line in the back and ordered Jake and Damon to do a primary search of the building. As Damon went inside, he noticed there was fire coming from the ceiling and burning down. It looked like gasoline had spilled and exploded all over.

  He started to go up the stairs and felt them giving a little more with each step. They might be strong enough to support him going up, but they’d be gone by the time he had to come back down.

  His mind flashed back to that night when he was inside the hotel.

  For a second, he hesitated. All thoughts shifted to finding Jamie. On the ground, pulling her up and hauling her out. The ambulance ride. Watching the paramedics give her compressions, her lifeless body. He froze up.

  “Hey.” Jake stepped next to him. “Let’s get up there.”

  Jolting back to reality, his heart raced, but he nodded. “Okay, but we are going to need a different route for egress.” He took the stairs two at a time, knowing they would be gone any minute. His partner called the captain and told him to ladder the east window.

  Then Damon heard it. At first it sounded like a cat. A meow. He paused, listened carefully, and realized it was a baby.

  A surge of adrenaline went through him, and he pounded down the hall toward the sound.

  He and his partner went through every room.

  “Clear!”

  “Clear!”

  They each yelled when they’d looked under the beds and in the closets.

  When he came out of the second bedroom, he couldn’t hear it any more.

  “Jake!” He yelled out.

  Jake turned.

  “Can you hear the baby?”

  “What?” He shook his head. “I don’t hear anything. Let’s get out.”

  Damon knew something wasn’t right. He hesitated.

  “Come on!” Jake yelled at him. “Let’s get out!”

  Damon ran with Jake toward the east side of the house where their escape route waited. But as it had so many times before, he felt that niggling feeling to go back.

  The same niggling feeling he’d had that day. The one that had urged him not to send Jamie in.

  The feeling he’d always relied on. Some called it crazy. Some called it an angel. Some called it faith.

  His mother had called it his saint. When he was nine, he’d gotten caught playing with matches at his father’s cabins. He’d burnt the place down and walked out without a scratch.

  He had been told it was a miracle he had survived that.

  He thought of that day—when Jamie had died. That morning she’d been in his office, complaining about how she felt like he protected her too much because she was new.

  Hesitating in front of the window where the ladder had been raised, Damon suddenly turned and rushed back.

  “Damon!” Jake called out.

  Damon ignored him.

  He saw a hanging handle for the attic. He grabbed it and pulled it down.

  Climbing up the stairs, he soon realized he wouldn’t fit the rough the opening. He paused and looked around carefully. He could barely fit through the narrow opening.

  Then he saw a little girl, passed out with a baby snuggled underneath her arm.

  The attic access was too narrow for him to fit through with his gear. Somehow he had to reduce his profile and get up there.

  “Damon, get down here!” Jake was behind him.

  “There’s a baby and girl.” He radioed. Without even thinking, he swung his air pack off his back, threw it up into the attic, and crawled up into the tiny space. The air hose was still connected to his mask, supplying him with clean air to breathe, but there wasn’t enough room to put the tank on his back, and he wasn’t mobile enough to perform a rescue if he had to drag it around. There was only one choice he could make.

  Damon sucked in a deep breath then disconnected his air hose and left his SCBA behind as he walked like a hunched over old man to the girl and the baby. He shook them but they didn’t move. If there was any hope for them, he had to move fast.

  Smoke was everywhere, but he could see light coming from a window. He kicked out the window and yelled down, “Here!” But he was immediately choked off by the smoke pouring out of the building around him.

  Someone on the ground must have seen him because the ladder started moving his direction.

  Damon went back for the victims, scooping them both up then squeezing his way back to the window. It seemed like the floor was getting spongy under his feet. The big ladder was still coming their way.

  But it wouldn’t be fast enough.

  Then he had an idea.

  He noticed the roof connected to the garage. The only way he would fit through while holding the kids was horizontally. Another few breaths, and he would laying on the floor just as this girl and baby had been. Turning his back to the window, Damon propelled himself backward through the narrow opening like a high jumper doing the Fosbury flop, and miraculously they fit through.

  Landing hard on his back, Damon pulled the girls in tight as he slid downward like a sled with two limp passengers. After a small drop off, they came to rest on the roof of the garage, the girl and baby still held securely in his arms.

  He heard the firefighters below yelling and barking out orders. He heard the truck’s la
dder being diverted.

  Then he coughed and pleaded with the girls. “Come on. Come on. Breathe. Breathe. Please, God, let them breathe.” He held them tighter and prayed harder than he’d prayed in a long time.

  Then the best sound he’d ever heard happened.

  Both the little girl and the baby started coughing. Then the baby started crying. He’d never been so happy to hear a baby cry.

  6

  Sam drove down the lane to her cabin and tried to ignore the first cabin she passed.

  Damon’s cabin.

  She hadn’t realized it until Luke had gone over all the properties she was in charge of. All the projects he was running. Until she’d checked the explicit contract in place between her and Freestone Real Estate Enterprises, she hadn’t realized the contract had Damon listed as the owner. Luke was acting as the agent, taking care of it.

  Earlier in the day, Luke had come in and put the contracts down on her desk and said, “Get my brother to put up or shut up on the cabins. I’m tired of carrying him. Tell him he’s taking over all the day to day maintenance, collecting rent, all of it.”

  It had surprised her that Luke had seemed angry. Really angry. It took a while, but after he’d showed her some other projects, he’d been fine.

  As she got out of her car and went up the steps, enjoying the almost summer air, she stopped, struck by the view. The cabins weren’t perfect, but the view was. The best part was the jogging trails led straight up the path to the top of Park City Mountain.

  She wondered why this mountain hadn’t been made into a ski resort. It would have been a good investment.

  She opened the door and went in, loving the smell of the Italian chicken she’d made in the crockpot before she’d left that morning.

  She’d learned early on how to be frugal, and it had helped to learn how to use the crockpot. Removing the lid, she took in a big sniff, realizing she’d put two pieces of chicken in when she only needed one. There was a slight stab of loss when she remembered Zoey wasn’t with her any more.

  She blocked out any thoughts of Zoey, not wanting to even think about what mischief she was up to.

  The distinct impression came to her as she thought of her sister Janet, that her sister was somewhere in a place that smelled like a hospital. Knowing she would regret it, she called her.