She seemed different here. Calmer, maybe. Less skittish. Happier. As he watched her crouch to check on a tortoise with a bandage on its little leg, he got a flash of the way she’d bent over the drunken kid at the City Lights Grill. Now that he knew her better, he saw that she’d been trying to help the guy the same way she tried to help wild animals.
That realization brought a surge of protectiveness. Someone that softhearted could get into big trouble.
As they headed back toward her office, he asked, “How are your friends?” The last he’d heard, everyone had been released from the hospital and the wedding postponed for a month so everyone’s bruises could heal.
“They’re all getting sick of telling the story over and over again. And Cindy really wants to invite you to the wedding.”
Embarrassment crept over him at the memory of how Cindy had announced on TV that she was dedicating her wedding to him.
“Tell her there’s no need for that.”
“Oh come on. They’d really appreciate it. She’s going to send an invitation to the firehouse.”
“I’m a little wedding-ed out. I’ve been to three in the past year.”
“Yes, but how many of those were people whose lives you’d saved?”
He thought about it. “Actually, all of them, in a way. Although Psycho would never admit it.”
“Psycho?”
“Another fireman. He moved to Nevada, so I don’t have to save his ass anymore. But if you pinned him down, he’d tell you I had his back a bunch of times. Sabina too, and definitely Vader. I saved Vader’s mom when their house burned down.”
“You just go around saving people’s lives?”
He shrugged. “Well, sometimes. If it works out. It’s the nature of the job.”
“I’ve never met a firefighter before.” She paused to wait for Stan to take a leak on the base of a tree. He hadn’t even noticed that Stan had to pee; she really did have superior dog communication skills. “You’re not exactly what I would have expected.”
“What’d you expect?”
She eyed him up and down, giving him that tingling sensation again. “I didn’t really think about it, I suppose. Maybe more . . . swaggering?” She put her thumbs in the belt loops of her pants and mimicked a boastful stance, lowering her voice to a macho growl. “I can put out fires with nothing more than my bare hands and a mouthful of spit.”
He gave a surprised hoot of laughter. “Have you met my captain, Vader? Dead-on. Nah, I’m just kidding. Firefighters have a pretty healthy respect for fire. If we ever swagger, it’s just to keep our confidence up.”
“You don’t seem to swagger much. You must be really confident.”
Taken aback, he paused outside the closed door of her office bungalow. “I don’t know. My brothers are confident—you don’t want to mess with them. Me, I’m confident in my training and my crew. When I go out on a call I feel like I know what to do. What’s that add up to?”
“Sounds like confidence to me. I’m not just good with animals, you know,” she added. “I’m pretty perceptive when it comes to people too.”
“Oh really?” He knew he shouldn’t ask the next question, but he just couldn’t help it. “So what have you picked up about me so far?”
“You really want to know?”
He angled his head to look down at her. In the world of San Gabriel firefighters, he was on the short side at roughly six feet. Rachel stood nearly a head below him, so if he leaned forward, he’d be able to press his lips to the dark curls framing her forehead. Not that he would, of course. He barely knew her, and then there was Courtney.
Courtney, who would make someone a powerhouse wife, and didn’t understand why he wasn’t that “someone.” Courtney, who usually got what she wanted and didn’t like to lose.
Rachel, despite obvious signs of wealth, didn’t look like someone who always got what she wanted. She looked like someone who knew life could knock you over the head sometimes.
He realized they were staring at each other. If she was really good at figuring people out, she’d probably already determined that he wasn’t the star of the firehouse, or the star of anything, despite Ella Joy’s new crusade. He was just . . . Fred. Fred the Fireman. He put out fires and got people out of trouble.
While she was . . . well, whatever else, she was clearly something special.
“Sure,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended. He cleared his throat. “Lay it on me. What have you picked up about me?”
“This,” she said in a dreamy voice. Then, under his astonished gaze, she tilted her body toward him, rose onto the tips of her toes, and brushed her lips against his. He froze as a wash of electricity sizzled across his nerve endings. The touch was so slight, so brief, like a butterfly coming to a rest. Her breath was warm and sweet; he wanted to soak it in through every pore.
And just like that, every thought that didn’t involve Rachel Allen fled his mind.
He felt as if every cell of his body had turned into one of those satellite arrays, rotating toward a newly detected signal. Who’s this? Where did she come from? Electric desire raced through him. He wanted to know her, body and soul, on a raw, primal level. He wanted Rachel Allen in a way he’d never wanted anyone—or anything—before in his life. Urgently. Compulsively. Impossibly.
Sanity returned in a cold wash of horror. He backed off, putting his hands on her shoulders to set her away from him. That was a mistake, since the feel of her made him instantly hard. “I have to go,” he said, releasing her and taking a big step backward.
“I’m sorry,” she said, putting a hand to her lips, astonished. “I didn’t mean to—”
“That’s okay. I didn’t mean to either—” He broke off, completely unsure of what he wanted to say. “I mean, it was me. It was both of us.” He should cancel Friday night. Bad, bad idea. No way could he have her in his house and not try to kiss her again. And kissing couldn’t happen again.
He opened his mouth to call it off, but instead uttered the words, “I’ll see you Friday at eight.”
Holy fuck. That wasn’t calling it off. That was the opposite. What was wrong with him?
She bit her lower lip, looking troubled. Good. If she was going to back out, he should let her. It would be better for both of them.
Courtney’s angry face filled his mind’s eye. She’d be furious, even if he hadn’t initiated the kiss. She’d grill him about it, then explain why a “trial separation” didn’t include kissing other people. He’d be expected to buy her something, or go get mani-pedis with her, or go to one of her business school keggers. God, he’d probably get back together with her out of sheer guilt.
Everything in him rebelled, and he knew right then, with complete certainty, that he’d had enough. One way or another, he had to make Courtney understand they were through.
A little whimper from Stan brought him back to the moment.
“Friday at eight,” he said in a slightly choked voice, then wheeled around, Stan at his heels. He quickly gave her his address before she could say anything else. “I just have to take care of something first.”
Rachel closed her office door behind her and leaned against it. What on earth had possessed her to kiss Fred? She never initiated kisses, and usually waited a long time before letting anyone kiss her. When other girls complained about men wanting them for sex, Rachel felt the opposite. In her case, sex was way down on the list of what guys wanted from her. Most of the men she dated came from her father’s world and thought of her as Rob Kessler’s daughter, with all the connections and advantages that brought. In San Gabriel, as Rachel Allen, she didn’t date much; it felt dishonest.
This kiss was totally different. For a moment, it had been sheer magic, as if some sort of enchanted spell had sprung to life around them. Then he’d ended it so abruptly.
Maybe he’d been as shocked as she was. She hadn’t intended anything like that. The kiss had been meant as a thank-you for saving her, for saving her friends. Really, sh
e’d been aiming for his cheek. She wasn’t sure what had happened along the way. The closer she’d gotten, the more aware she’d become of his hard body, the smell of his skin, the strong tendons that stretched from his neck to his shoulders, the sturdy health he exuded, the firm curves of his mouth . . .
Yes, that’s where the problem had started. His mouth.
Once she’d been leaning against him, her lips on his, nothing had triggered the panicked desire to run that often flooded her when she got close to someone. The opposite, in fact. She’d had a very strong urge to climb his body like a monkey. It was a good thing he’d stepped back in such a hurry, or he might have found himself playing jungle tree.
On her desk, her phone made the little buzz that meant someone had called while she’d been out. Strange, she never forgot her phone. She always had it with her, for her father’s peace of mind. If Fred the Fireman had made her forget her phone, he’d accomplished one more astonishing first.
It wasn’t a call, but a text message from Bradford Maddox IV, one of the Refuge’s board members and a friend of her father. Saw you on TV. Glad everyone’s okay. Please advise regarding new wedding date. Looking forward to escorting you to the happy event.
Ugh. In all the drama of the accident, she’d forgotten that Bradford was taking her to Cindy’s wedding. But the worst part was that he’d seen her on TV. Did she have to tell her father about that? If she did, he’d insist she get an extra bodyguard, and there would go her freedom. Such as it was.
Good Lord, couldn’t she just have one tiny sliver of a normal life? Maybe a sliver the size of one evening at a cute fireman’s house? Cute didn’t really cover it, she was beginning to realize. Outrageously attractive was better.
Yes, she’d wait until after her dinner at Fred’s. Then she’d let her father know about Bradford’s text.
Chapter 7
Rachel kept a close eye on the news over the next couple of days. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about the runaway bridesmaid, but the stories about Fred just kept on coming. Every other day, it seemed, another dire situation occurred and Fred the Bachelor Hero saved the day.
First came a surprise May storm, which sent rain lashing across Rachel’s picture windows and caused flash flooding on the highway that led to the desert. An elderly woman who was heading out to view the wildflowers got trapped in her car by quickly rising floodwaters. The entire rescue was caught by a camera in a hovering helicopter.
“Once again, firefighters from San Gabriel Station 1 were first on the scene. While some firefighters secured the car, to keep it from being swept downstream by the raging floodwaters, our favorite Bachelor Hero, Firefighter Fred Breen, fought the current and was able to pull Alison Barnstable out of her watery trap. The grandmother of three was overwhelmed with emotion as Breen carried her across the flooded highway.”
Then came a shot of the elderly woman alternately sobbing and laughing as she clung to Fred. He slogged his way through the water, talking to her the entire time, clearly putting her at ease. He was so good at what he did. And yet he didn’t seem to think it was anything special.
“All credit goes to Mrs. Barnstable for her quick thinking,” he told the anchor, Ella Joy, when she stuck the microphone in his face after the rescue. His drenched hair was plastered to his head, which somehow made him look even more attractive. “If she hadn’t called 911 right away, we might not have gotten to her in time. She kept her head and did all the right things.”
“What are the right things to do? Can you explain to our viewers?”
“The most important thing is not to panic. Pay attention to flash flood warnings and if you see standing water on the road, don’t try to drive through it. Every situation is different, depending on how submerged the car is and what the situation is. Sometimes you want to close the windows to equalize the pressure, but in other situations the window can be an escape route. That’s why keeping your head is so important. Getting trapped in a car under water is terrifying, but it is often a survivable situation.”
Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off the TV. Who knew a fireman giving safety instructions would be so sexy?
“This sounds like a subject for a news special,” said Ella Joy.
Fred gave a tired smile. “It would be a real service to your viewers. San Gabriel doesn’t get a lot of flooding, but when it happens, it’s frightening and dangerous.”
“Thank you for talking to us.” Fred nodded and hurried off to join the other firefighters.
Ella Joy turned to the camera. “Stay tuned for more on these freak floods and what you can do to stay safe. I just got word from our producer that we’ll be airing a special on survival situations. And for those who want to hear more from our favorite Bachelor Hero, we’ve been promised that Firefighter Breen of the Urban Search and Rescue Squad will share some tips with us.”
Cindy, Liza, and Feather came over and the four of them, cozy in her top floor apartment, with the rain running in blurry streaks down the windows, watched every second of that news special. Aside from flood and earthquake survival tips, the special also mentioned a new Facebook page dedicated to Fred the Bachelor Hero. It already had over a thousand members, and was growing fast. Not only that, but T-shirts proclaiming “Fred’s My Hero” were showing up all over town. Like it or not, Fred was becoming a star.
Feather immediately went online and ordered them each a T-shirt.
Rachel didn’t tell them about her plans to see Fred on Friday. It felt like a delicious, private secret. Time and again she told herself she should back out of their dog-training session, now that he was such a media draw. But that infamous, headstrong side of her refused to do it. The fact was, she wanted to see him again. It was as simple as that.
Besides, she didn’t want to disappoint Greta.
Everywhere Fred went, someone was sticking a camera in his face. He’d actually started getting recognized on the street. In line at the Lazy Daisy, girls wanted to talk to him. He got requests for autographs on inappropriate body parts and fan mail with invitations to dinner.
Everyone wanted to talk to the Bachelor Hero. Fred had never been one of the attention-grabbing members of the department. He’d always wondered what that would be like, and now that the limelight had hit, he wasn’t sure he liked it. He didn’t like people looking at him differently. Even Mrs. Gund, the crusty owner of the Lazy Daisy, acted starstruck and mixed up his muffin order. His barber asked him to sign a copy of the newspaper article about the crane accident. His dry cleaner made him brownies. It was all so strange.
The firehouse crew teased him about his new fame, of course. Mulligan left lipstick kisses on his locker, and someone mocked up a photo with his face over Justin Bieber’s body as he was mobbed with fans.
He tried to take it in stride, since he was facing an even bigger problem.
Courtney really, really didn’t want to get the message that they were through.
“Fred, just because a girl kissed you doesn’t have to mean the end of our relationship,” she said with an impatient sigh as he walked her to the San Gabriel College parking lot after class. “Couples get through this sort of thing. Sometimes it makes them closer. It’s not like you cheated.”
“But it’s not fair to you. You deserve more.” So much for his hope that the kiss would make her give up on him.
“I forgive you, okay? It’s not like you initiated it. Let’s just forget it and move on.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to.”
“Why is it all about what you want? I’m the injured party and I’m fine with it.” They reached her older-model BMW, the one she intended to trade in for a brand-new version as soon as she got her first job. She took out her keys and clicked the unlock button.
“But Court—”
Suddenly he had an armful of books and she was opening her car door. “Be a nice guy and put my books in the car, would you?”
Desperate, Fred saw his chance slipping away. A horrible vision of life as Courtney’s
husband flashed through his mind. Always trying to get her to listen. Always backing down because he didn’t want to hurt her. Because he was a “nice guy.”
The words “nice guy” echoed through his brain. Being a nice guy was one thing. Being a pushover was another. And what Courtney didn’t understand about him was that he had never been a pushover.
He loaded her books into the car, shut the door, and stepped back. She beckoned him toward the passenger seat. Even in the twilit parking lot he could make out the impatient curl of her lip. He turned to go.
“Good-bye, Courtney.”
“No. We decided. You are not doing this.”
“I am doing this. We’re done. It’s not going to work out.” Her mouth popped open to argue some more. “When you look at me, do you see anything besides a Bachelor Fireman? Any Bachelor Fireman?” Her mouth snapped shut with a click of molars. Boom. So that was it. It sure had taken a long time to figure out. “Courtney, listen close. I’m never going to marry you. That’s not ever going to happen.” A sudden stroke of inspiration made him add, “Don’t you think it’s better if you start looking for someone else right away rather than dragging it out?”
She twitched her ponytail behind her back. “But I’ve invested six months in you.”
“Better six months than a year. Or two years.”
He watched that one sink in. “Is this because the other firefighters don’t like me? You shouldn’t listen to them. They’re jerks, and they’re sexist too. I didn’t want to say this before, but they have a problem with successful women.”
Hell, no. Going after his firehouse crew was not a smart move.
“Stop it right there, Court. Those guys are like my brothers and sisters, and if you paid any attention, you’d know they’re not like that. Brody’s wife is a journalist. Captain Stone’s is a press secretary. Cherie’s starting a movement therapy program for kids.” Courtney opened her mouth but he kept on going. “Katie Blake just finished her degree in elder care. Psycho’s wife, Lara, is a doctor with her own clinic. Maribel up in Alaska just won a huge award for her photography. No one at the station has a problem with successful women. And have you forgotten about Sabina and One? They’re both badass. We’re breaking up because I don’t love you, I don’t want to marry you, and you should be with someone who does. End of story. Good-bye.” He spun away and headed across the lot toward his truck.
The Night Belongs to Fireman Page 7