Reckless

by Kimberly Kincaid

  But the knee-jerk urge to lay eyes on him won out. Zoe headed for the double doors on the opposite side of the common room, her hand hitting the handle on the door leading to the dormitories on one side and the engine bay on the other at the same time its counterpart swung on its hinges.

  “Oh! Hi, Lieutenant Osborne.” Zoe smiled at the veteran firefighter who had been at Station Eight since she’d worn knee socks and pigtails, and whoa, time had added some hard edges to his face.

  Oz ran a hand over his graying stubble before recognition settled over his stare. “Hey, little girl. Look at you, all grown up now.”

  “That’s me,” she agreed, taking in his gaunt frame with a pinch of concern. “How’s it going?”

  “It’s going,” he said, tough as ever. “What brings you out here to visit a bunch of graceless firemen?”

  Zoe slipped her smile back over her face. “I brought dinner.”

  “Hell, girl.” Oz’s return smile brightened his face just enough to remind her of how he’d looked last time she’d seen him, and maybe he’d just had a couple of long shifts. “You sure know how to take care of us, now don’t you?”

  “I do my best. I threw in a bunch of brownies for dessert, so make sure you save room.”

  “Will do. Good to see you.”

  He continued toward the common room with a wave, leaving Zoe to complete her trip to the engine bay. Rescue squad’s vehicle stood directly in front of her, nose out and doors wide, with Station Eight’s blue and white ambulance directly adjacent and equally ready to go. Her feet shushed over the concrete floor, anticipation thrumming through her veins as she rounded the ambo’s back bumper to make her way to Engine Eight. Alex stood about ten feet away in front of one of the large storage compartments, his blond brows creased in concentration even though his movements were completely fluid, and oh God, Zoe was so in love with him it hurt.

  Her feet moved faster, completely of their own accord. “Hey,” she said, the word arriving about two seconds before she threw her arms around him, and Alex grunted in surprise.

  “Hey.” He pulled back just far enough to swing a gaze around the engine bay. But Zoe pressed up to slide a kiss over his mouth.

  “Between the engine and the ambulance, we’re pretty well hidden, and anyway, no one else is in here. I checked.”

  The hard ridge of his shoulders relaxed under her touch. “Well, in that case, c’mere, Gorgeous.” Alex threaded his fingers through her hair, his kiss making up in ferocity what it lacked in slowness.

  After a few seconds that heated Zoe from head to toe—with layovers in all the best places—he pulled back. “So did you come all the way out here just to give me a hard-on while I work? Because I’ve got to tell you, mission complete.”

  “Thank God for bunker pants,” she said, her body tingling at the sight of the turnout gear slung over his frame before she tamped it down for the sake of propriety. “Actually, I came out here to bring everyone dinner. I figured you guys wouldn’t turn down a home-cooked meal.” She tipped her head toward the doors leading back to the firehouse, and Alex raked her with a slow gaze before hauling her close for one last kiss.

  “When you come in here wearing those jeans and bearing food, you make it really freaking hard for me to keep my hands off you. We need to tell your father what’s going on, otherwise I’m liable to lose the cool for which I’m so popularly known around here.”

  Zoe wanted to roll her eyes, but her laugh tumbled out instead. “I know, but we need to tell him in private, and between your shifts and my schedule at Hope House, this week was kind of crazy.”

  “We’re all here right now,” Alex said, and oh hell, he was serious.

  “Alex, think about it. You’re on shift with my dad for the next fourteen hours. Telling him now would be insane.” Not that she didn’t want to come clean. But she also didn’t want her highly overprotective father to smother her boyfriend in his sleep.

  The realization seemed to hit Alex after another moment. He tugged a hand through his hair, hard enough to leave the blond locks tousled. “You’re right. I just hate not saying anything. I feel like I’m lying to him, and that bugs the crap out of me.”

  “How about Sunday?” she asked. “It’s only two days from now, and we can meet for breakfast, first thing.”

  “Sounds perfect.” He stepped back, shifting his focus. “I take it you haven’t heard anything from the Collingsworth Foundation today.”

  Zoe’s gut squeezed. “No.” She shook her head, pulling her screamingly silent cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans as proof. “I know the foundation offices don’t close for another half hour, but it’s looking like we won’t hear anything about the next round of decisions until at least Monday.”

  “That might be a good sign.” Alex leaned back against the engine, running a thumb beneath the suspenders keeping his dark gray bunker pants in place.

  Zoe hedged, not wanting to jinx her chances with an out-loud admission of what she’d been thinking for the last two hours. No news was good news, and all that. “Maybe,” she allowed. “I’ll be honest, though. I wish they’d just call. The waiting is making me crazy.”

  “Let me guess.” He leveled her with a smile so charming, it made his bright blue eyes crinkle at the edges. “You made seven pounds of lasagna today, didn’t you?”

  “Mac and cheese,” she admitted, huffing out a laugh. “But I’m nervous as hell. Plus . . .” She trailed off, but they’d never been anything but honest with each other, so there was no point in holding back. “You’re back on shift, and that scares me.”

  Alex’s relaxed demeanor didn’t even budge by a fraction. “I was on shift Tuesday, too. A-okay, as promised.” He gestured to himself with one hand as he reached for her with the other, and she melted into his side with a sigh.

  “I know, and I know that your job is as important to you as mine is to me. But the guys were telling me about the fire call you went on just now, and how it could’ve been so much worse, and . . . I guess the worry is just going to take some getting used to for me, that’s all.”

  He straightened, kissing the crown of her head before turning to shut the storage compartment on the engine with a metallic bang. “I know something that might make that a little easier. Come on.”

  She followed him through the engine bay and back inside the firehouse. But rather than moving toward the happy sounds of pre-dinner chatter coming out of the common room, Alex turned down a different, more secluded hallway, one lined on either side with photograph after photograph.

  Nostalgia rippled outward from the center of Zoe’s chest. “The hall of pictures. God, some of these have been here since I was a kid.”

  “Yup,” Alex said, his gaze extending down the line of the sunlit hallway. “Pretty much any and every big deal that’s gone down in Station Eight over the last two decades is up here on these walls. You name it, and chances are, we’ve got the photographic evidence.”

  “Mmm.” She ran her fingers along the edges of the plain black frames, leaning in closer to scan the images with care. Some depicted firefighters doing drills, others were shots of active fires. Commendation letters were peppered into the mix, along with a healthy handful of photographs of Station Eight’s firefighters in more casual settings like Fairview’s legendary softball tournament.

  Zoe stopped in front of one of the frames about halfway down the wall. “Oh, that’s a great picture of you and Brennan and Cole. Although . . .” She squinted in confusion before arching a brow at him. “Why are your hands bright purple?”

  “Because Brennan is a dick,” Alex said with way more affection than ire. “He put Kool-Aid powder in my gloves one shift as a practical joke.”

  Her laugh escaped in a quick burst. “I’m sure you were just minding your own business and did nothing to earn that.”

  “I’m a saint. Anything he tells you about me waking him up by testing our chain saw ten feet away from his bunk is pure myth.”

  “Uh-huh.�
�� Reminding herself to congratulate Brennan on his creativity the next time she saw him, she continued down the row. She took in picture after picture, each one an obvious testament to the paramedics’ and firefighters’ skill and camaraderie.

  “I remember this fire,” she said, pausing in front of a series of eight-by-ten photos of a two-story house, engulfed in smoke and flames. “I was home from college on a break when it happened. The house wasn’t too far from where my parents used to live.”

  Alex leaned in, tapping the glass with one finger. “I remember it, too. There’s Oz and Andersen, up on the roof.” He traced a line down to the ground level, pointing to two firefighters running water lines into the smoke-filled house. “And that’s me and Cole. Ah, and Brennan’s right there, too.”

  “How can you tell who’s who?” she asked. She was lucky she could make out how many figures there were in all the flashing lights and chaos.

  “Partly by what we’re doing. We’ve all got really specific things we’re responsible for on a fire call. It keeps us organized, focused.” He moved his gaze from the photo to Zoe’s face, his expression completely pared down in its honesty. “But mostly, I know who’s who in all of these pictures because we always have each other’s backs. I know where my fellow firefighters are, just like they know where I am on any given call, and none of us do the job halfway. We go into every fire as a team, and that’s how we come out.”

  Understanding dawned, bright and sweet. “Is that why you wanted me to see this? So I’d know how much backup you have?”

  “It’s part of it, yes. You already know this job is dangerous, and that goes with the territory. But I wanted to show you that there are precautions, and I don’t do it alone. You’ve seen how dedicated these guys are outside the house. I’m here to tell you, they’re ten times as intense when things go pear-shaped. Fighting fires might be risky, but I’ve got the best team on the planet with me. I’ll be all right.”

  “Promise?” she asked, and even though the question was a shaky whisper, Alex answered it with clear, complete confidence.

  “I promise.”

  Zoe nodded, but before she could back the gesture up with anything further, her cell phone let loose with a loud buzz from her back pocket. “Oh, hang on. Let me see . . .”

  Her words screeched to a halt just as her heartbeat catapulted to Mach 2 in her chest.

  “Zoe?” Worry colored Alex’s expression, his boots echoing on the linoleum as he closed what little space stood between them. “What’s the matter? Who is it?”

  Excitement collided with the hard prickle of fear in her veins, but finally, somewhere amid the ocean of adrenaline coursing through her, she found her voice.

  “It’s Sharon Gleeson. She’s the director of the committee that awards the Collingsworth Grant.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A mile-wide smile tore over Alex’s face, even though Zoe’s had gone completely blank and just as pale.

  “This is awesome,” he said, not even bothering to keep his enthusiasm in check. But come on—what better place for her to get her kick-ass good news than here at the firehouse, where they could all help her celebrate in style?

  “Go on, Gorgeous. Pick it up.” He encouraged her with a wave, guiding her to the end of the hallway in a few hurried steps. The location wasn’t ideal for privacy, but the only other thing down this way was Cap’s office, and he knew better than to slip in there without permission. At least the out-of-the-way corner was better than nothing.

  Finally, Zoe nodded, her hands noticeably shaking as she tapped the icon on her phone to take the call. “Zoe Westin.”

  Although it damn near killed him, Alex moved a handful of paces to give her a little breathing room. Not that it seemed to matter. Zoe’s face remained totally unreadable, other than the marked seriousness creasing her honey-colored brows and pressing her bow-shaped mouth into a flat line. But this was Zoe, cautious to a fault. Of course she wouldn’t get excited until she hung up. Damn, he couldn’t wait to see the sheer happiness break over her face.

  “Right. Yes, I see,” she murmured. The woman on the other end of the phone must be giving all sorts of details, because that was all Zoe said. She nodded a few times, her blond hair tumbling forward to shield her eyes from Alex’s view.

  “Of course. Thank you so much. I really appreciate your letting me know tonight.” Finally, she lowered the phone from her ear, and not a second too soon as far as the adrenaline in Alex’s veins was concerned.

  “Well?” He looked at Zoe’s face, the sight of the tears brimming in her eyes sending a pang to his gut even though they were surely the happy kind.

  One breached her eyelid, then another. “I, um . . . I didn’t get the grant.”

  What. The. Ever-loving. Fuck?

  “Are you kidding me?” Alex blurted, disbelief ricocheting through him only to be followed by a hard spurt of anger. “You worked your ass off for that grant. Nobody deserves that money more than you.”

  Zoe shook her head, clearly in a fog, and Alex’s heart nearly imploded. “They had a record number of applications, and she said ours was very impressive. It just . . . wasn’t enough for them to consider Hope House for the final round.”

  He moved toward her, thumbing the tears from the apples of both cheeks even as they killed him. “Okay. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” she choked out, collapsing into his touch. “Everything I had was riding on this, Alex. I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”

  “You can,” he interrupted, sticking the words with all his mettle. “Look, this is a setback, but we’ll get around it. We’ll figure something out.”

  Her face broadcasted her doubt loud and crystal clear, but she let him pull her close. As soon as he wrapped his arms around her, the tension holding her together unraveled. Every sob tore a hole in his chest, but he rode out the pain of each one, right there with her. Finally, Zoe quieted, and he cupped her face to place a soft kiss on her mouth like a promise.

  “We’ll find a way,” he said, and she looked up at him, her lashes still spiky with tears.

  “Can you just not let me go right now? Please?” She arched into the connection, clutching the sleeves of his T-shirt as she pressed her lips to his. Need deepened the kiss in less than a breath, making Zoe’s chest quake against his as he held her tight, and Alex didn’t even think about denying her. He parted her lips, pouring every shred of feeling he could muster into the kiss, sweeping her tongue and diving in deeper until—

  “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing to my daughter?”

  Dread skidded through Alex’s limbs at the same time Zoe jumped, both of them turning toward the adjacent doorway to face her father.

  Holy shit, Alex had never seen the man look so irrevocably furious.

  “Captain—”

  “Dad, I—”

  Their words crashed together, arriving simultaneously, but Westin silenced them both in an instant.

  “Don’t.” He flashed a stare full of warning at Zoe, which only threw Alex’s protective instincts onto the huge pile of emotions hurtling through his gut.

  But Zoe didn’t stop. “This isn’t what you think.”

  “Believe me,” Westin grated, his eyes drilling Alex chock-full of holes. “You don’t want to know what I think.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and her forefinger, taking a step toward her father. “Okay, look. Let’s just talk about this like adults, please.”

  “I just came out of my office to find my only daughter spontaneously lip-locked with one of my firefighters. That’s not going to happen,” he grated, the deep breath that followed visibly lifting his chest beneath the dark blue shirt of his uniform.

  “This isn’t some spontaneous thing,” Zoe argued, and oh shit, Westin’s face flushed dark red with anger.

  “Really. And just how long has it been not spontaneous?”

  Zoe bit her lip, clearly realizing the catch-22 of her words. “I—
”

  “A month,” Alex said, quietly straightening.

  A muscle in Westin’s jaw twitched once. Twice. “I’ll deal with you later, Zoe. Donovan, get in my office. Now.”

  Alex hesitated. He didn’t mind taking the brunt of her father’s anger, and yeah, considering the way he’d stumbled upon them, the man had every reason to be righteously indignant. But Zoe was an equal part of the equation. She didn’t deserve to be brushed off and not heard. “Captain, with all due respect, Zoe—”

  Westin took a swift step forward, jamming Alex’s words to a sloppy stop. “Don’t—do not—talk to me about respect. You’ve been sneaking around with my daughter for a goddamn month while I went to bat for you with the chief! Now get in my office, before I haul your ass out the door.”

  Alex exhaled, the full measure of his dread replacing the air in his lungs. “Yes, sir.”

  He turned to look at Zoe, to somehow grab one last burst of calm at the sight of her before he walked into Westin’s office for what might be the last time, but she threw her hands in the air, decimating the very notion of the word.

  “Do you really want to talk about respect?” Her hands lowered, only to lock into place over her hips as her eyes glittered with built-up frustration and anger, and hell, she was fraying at the seams. “I’m twenty-seven years old. I get that I’m your daughter and that you want to look out for me, but damn it, I’m right here. I’m not a little girl anymore, and I don’t need protecting. You said you had my back, and that you believed in me. For once, can’t you just trust me?”

  “No. I can’t.” The words sliced from Westin’s mouth with all the sharp and nasty of a six-inch switchblade, cutting Alex to the bone as he added, “In fact, I don’t trust either one of you. Now walk out of this fire station, Zoe. For your own good.”

  Zoe’s shoulders folded inward, a fresh round of tears tracking over her weary face. But before Alex could launch the reply swirling up from the part of him shrieking to leap to her defense, the electronic signal for an all-call pierced through the firehouse speakers.