“It’s actually a very informative book.” Veronica walked to her friend, took the book, and replaced it on the shelf. “It breaks down lots of ideas to their simplest form.”
“Well, you should definitely include that in the basket.”
“Yeah, and the next time my house catches on fire, the firefighters will stand back and watch it burn. With me in it!”
“No, they would just bring the checkers game along and wait for you to come out and play by the romantic glow of a four-alarm fire.”
Veronica laughed, shook her head. “I’ll figure out something. Somehow I doubt those guys ever get the recognition and thanks they deserve.”
* * * *
“She jumped my ass! Can you believe that? I get the woman out of the car—a car that is in danger of turning into a blazing inferno, mind you—and she bitches at me for breaking the dammed door off to do it.”
Dean wrapped a towel securely around his waist and walked to the row of sinks against the wall, turning his back on the Lieutenant before he caught him smiling. Lieutenant Trip Barrett had every right to be angry by this latest call. Heck, Dean would have been furious himself if he had been the one to respond to the traffic accident that occurred on the highway that morning. Instead, he had been on an entirely different call on the opposite side of town. The fire he responded to had been inside the laundry mat of an apartment complex. Though he dealt with a few people when putting out the fire, no one gave him any shit. Apparently, the Lieutenant hadn't fared as well.
From what Dean had been able to piece together so far during Barrett’s latest tirade, a pickup truck illegally transporting drums of flammable material had broad-sided an elderly woman in her Cadillac. As a result, one of the drums toppled over, spilling onto the highway and turning an already bad situation to worse and dangerous. Neither of the drivers was seriously injured, but the damage the Cadillac sustained, left the elderly woman trapped inside, and the firefighters had been forced to use the Jaws of Life to extract her from the vehicle.
Dean didn’t speak as Barrett paced the locker room in his boxer shorts and continued to recount the heated words exchanged between him and the elderly woman. The Lieutenant was blowing off steam, and it was actually pretty comical to watch, even more comical to listen to because when Tripp Barrett got angry, his Texas drawl got thicker, his grammar less proper and full of cuss words.
“The car was fucking thrashed anyways. What dammed difference did it make if we had to remove the damn door?” Dean caught Tripp’s reflection in the mirror over the sink, saw the man throw his hands in the air in exasperation. His hands were clean after his recent shower. The nicks he had gotten while struggling with the metal of the Cadillac were clearly visible, not yet blending in with older scratches that still remained from who knew what. The Lieutenant always got dinged up somehow. “The ole bat is lucky we didn’t have to remove the steering wheel from her chest. You should have seen how close the fucking driver’s seat was pulled to the steering wheel. If the Cadillac hadn’t been as old as she was, she would’ a been in the hospital right now from injuries sustained from the airbag.”
Dean didn’t have a doubt that the Lieutenant was correct on that one. Airbags saved lives, but only when they were allowed the space to properly deploy. He couldn’t count how many victims he saw transported to the hospital, because they had been sitting too close when an airbag went off. In this instance, it was the ladies lucky day that she drove a car manufactured before the inclusion of airbags had become the law.
“Instead by now she is at home and only a bit shaken by the morning’s accident,” Dean reminded and picked up the can of shaving cream on the shelf by the sink. He always tried to enforce the positive when a course of events led to one or more of his men becoming angry. “You did your job. You didn’t actually save her life, but you would have if those chemicals had caught fire.”
“Yeah, I know.” Tripp sighed and walked to his locker, pulled out a clean uniform shirt. “It’s not like I expected a thank you or anything. I didn’t expect the woman to drop down and bow at my feet like I was some kind of world hero or something. But the bitch really pissed me off when she started yelling at me in front of everyone for doing my dammed job.” He laughed as he pulled the shirt over his head, but there was only a trace of humor in the sound. “You should have seen the look on Lamont’s face when the woman started yelling. For a minute there, I thought she was going to deck her.”
“Speaking of Bailey Lamont.” Dean squirted the shaving cream in his palm and used his free hand to spread the foam on the stubble that covered his face. It had been nearly two days since he shaved, and he was beginning to look like a grizzly bear. Not that shaving would make a whole lot of difference. His years were beginning to catch up with him. The hard and crazy way he lived, combined with the roughness of his years on the job, were becoming evident in the deep lines etched in his face. “What did I miss this morning? Was that Terri or Bailey I heard let out that ear-piercing squeal?”
The squeal in question had come immediately following the tones that called out the Engine Company and Rescue for the accident on the highway. Dean had just gotten settled behind his desk to tackle the morning’s paperwork—paperwork that still waited for him because of the second call, which came fifteen minutes later and pulled him away—when he heard the unmistakable female shriek and the riot of male laughter that erupted as a result.
Tripp stepped up to the sink next to Dean, his lips spread in a wide grin. “It was Bailey,” he said as he began his shaving ritual. “Magee and Shannon put water balloons in her turnout boots.”
Dean shook his head but couldn’t hold back a grin of his own. Poor girl. They had probably filled the balloons to near bursting with the coldest water they could find, knowing that if they got toned out for a call, she would be in too big of a hurry to notice until she slammed her feet into the boots, smashing the balloons and soaking her feet with freezing water. With no time to dry out her boots and change her socks, she’d had to endure the discomfort for nearly two hours.
“Was she pissed?”
“A little.” Tripp shrugged. “I think she was more pissed that the guys had finally gotten a rise out of her than she was about the prank itself. The guys have been pretty relentless in their antics since she joined the department, but this morning’s was the first one that really got a response out of her.”
“What’s your take on her? Do you think she’s going to make it?” Dean knew he was worrying more about Bailey than he had other probies in the past, but she was a woman and he genuinely liked her. In the two months since she had been hired on, she had given him the impression of being strong and eager to learn.
Tripp didn’t hesitate. “She’ll make it. She still needs a lot of work, still has a lot to learn, but she’ll make it.”
“She doesn’t complain.”
It was a statement more than a question, but Tripp answered it anyway. “No, she doesn’t.”
“That concerns me,” Dean admitted, tapping his razor on the side of the sink.
“She’s just trying to fit in, Cap., to be accepted. She’s probably afraid if she whines and cries, the rest of us will see her as a weak female instead of one of us. Though, weak is definitely not a word I would use to describe her,” Tripp said laughing. “I walked into the weight room the other day, and she was bench pressing a hundred and seventy-five pounds. That’s nearly half what I can do! Can you believe that?”
Dean could. Bailey Lamont might appear to be a woman of average weight and strength, but he had seen her do things that proved her strength to be far above average. “It concerns me because I don’t want her trying so hard to fit in that she doesn’t complain when something is too difficult or it’s something she can’t handle. She could get hurt. Or get someone else hurt.”
Tripp paused, his razor stopping in mid-stroke up his left cheek, and looked at Dean through the mirror. “I see your point.” He nodded slowly then returned to shaving. “You w
ant me to have a talk with her?”
As the captain of the B shift, it was really Dean’s responsibility to confront Lamont, but as second in command, Tripp might be the better person to do so in this situation. The Lieutenant had spent more time with the firefighter since she’d been hired. Dean had noticed that Tripp seemed to have taken her under his wing so to speak. Lamont would probably take a talk from him better than Dean.
“Broach the subject lightly,” Dean instructed, rinsing his razor before placing it back on the shelf. He cupped his hands under the running water, splashed it on his face. “I don’t want her thinking she’s done anything wrong, because she hasn’t really. But let her know it is okay to complain. She doesn’t have to take all the shit the guys give her without saying a word. Let her know it is okay to fight back.”
“Will do, Captain.”
“What about the other guys? Are any of them giving her any trouble?” Dean had been so buried in paperwork lately that much of the goings on when the men weren’t on a call had escaped him.
“No more than normal for a probie. Magee has been giving her hell, but it’s more playful ragging than anything, because he asked her out and she turned him down.” Tripp grinned, obviously amused.
Ryan Magee. The ex-Navy SEAL had become B shift’s playboy. Despite his rough physical appearance, despite the permanent, hard warrior trained look in his eyes, despite his arrogance and the slight limp when he walked that seemed to be improving with each passing session of physical therapy, he was a real ladies man and he knew it.
Dean wasn’t surprised the firefighter had made a play for Lamont. What was surprising was that she turned him down. Women didn’t turn down Ryan Magee. If anything, he turned them down.
There was no rule against fraternizing in the Silver Springs Fire Department. There had never been a need for one. Until Bailey had been hired, Terri Vega was the only female on the department. She was also part of the B shift and an EMT assigned to the rescue unit. Terri had dated several of the guys on the department, but no problems seemed to result from the short escapades.
“Did she set him straight?” Dean asked.
“Surprisingly, yes. And she did it skillfully yet politely.” Tripp’s obvious pride for the way Bailey had handled the situation was written on his face. “If we can get her to handle everything else the way she handled Magee, we'll have one hell of a firefighter on our hands. I wouldn’t worry about her too much, Captain. She’s proving to be a woman who can handle herself.”
No, Dean wouldn’t worry about her, because in the course of this short conversation, he had learned without a doubt that the Lieutenant did the worrying for him. Tripp hadn’t said as much, but Dean could tell the man watched out for his crewmember.
“Oh, baby! I’ve died and gone to Heaven.” Magee’s deep baritone voice carried easily through the station house.
“Sounds like we have a visitor,” Tripp said and moved back to his locker for his jeans.
“No doubt of the female variety,” Dean agreed, knowing only a woman would have Magee thinking of the pearly gates.
“Man, I haven’t seen legs like that in way too long,” Shannon chimed in with a loud appreciative whistle. “They must be three miles long. Cap., L.T., you guys are missing it.”
“And you guys are pigs,” Lamont’s distinctively female voice followed.
“Oink, oink,” Magee said.
“Don’t worry, Lamont, you have great legs, too, babe,” Shannon said.
“Yeah, but she doesn’t have long blond hair like that,” Magee said. “There’s something about a woman with long silky blond hair. The way it falls over her breasts when she's naked and on top of you. The way—”
“Spare us the details, Magee. We get the picture,” Lamont said in disgust.
Mile long legs, long blond hair …Dean froze, his hand suspended above the towel he had been reaching for on the rack. No. No way. It couldn’t be. Could it?
Of course not , he decided and snatched the towel from the rack. Veronica Abbott wasn’t the only blond in town with legs to die for. And he didn’t even know for sure that the description still fit. She was back in town. He knew that much from tuning into the grapevine, but he had yet to see her. No, the description definitely fit the woman from his dreams but not necessarily Veronica Abbott.
“Guess I should go calm those two down before whoever that woman is gets inside and they jump her,” Tripp said, shaking his head. He quickly shoved his feet in his boots and walked out of the locker room.
“Wait. I think I know her,” Dean heard Shannon say and closed his eyes as the feeling of doom washed over him. Shannon would know Veronica. He had been born and raised in Silver Springs too and was about the same age as she.
Dean buried his face in the towel even as he heard the front door to the station house open. He was doomed. No doubt about it, if he walked out there now, he would be toast. But if he avoided her, if he stayed hidden in the locker room, maybe he could hold onto his sanity. Then again…
He didn’t even have to see her for the feelings of lust and desire from so long ago to return to his veins. He heard the clack of heels hitting tiled floor as she walked inside. Not wanting to even hear the sound of her voice, he moved to the sink, twisted the cold water on full blast effectively drowning out any words that may have carried from the other room. Of all the women he had ever met, ever been with, she was the one he always wanted but never had, never could have.
And dammed if he didn’t still want her.
Chapter 2
You can do this, Veronica told herself as she sat in her car in the parking lot of the fire station. You have a good excuse to be here. No one will know your motives are really to see Dean.
She had almost settled on a fruit basket purchased at the Fresh Market a few blocks down from Romantic Illusions. It would have been the obvious, less brazen choice. It would have been the un-spicy choice, she had realized and just like that she nixed the idea. Thinking daring, shameless and spicy but still keeping it light, she put together her basket from the merchandise in the shop. She included small boxes of assorted love chocolates, incenses, an incense burner, masculine scented after-shower oils, and a couple of boxes of condoms. She had thrown in the last on a whim. They were men after all, and in this day and age, safe sex was a must.
She hesitated just inside the door of the station house, unsure exactly where she was supposed to go, or who she would find when she got there. She had never been to a fire station before and had no idea what to expect. Were Fire Departments really like those portrayed on TV? Should she have knocked before walking inside? Was there a different door reserved for visitors that she hadn’t seen?
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the difference in light, but as her focus cleared, she realized she had stepped into what appeared to be some sort of small lobby. She stood before a wall half made of glass, and behind that glass were a man and a woman looking back at her. Another man stepped around the corner and into the lobby. He was dressed in well-worn jeans and navy T-shirt. He took one look at her and a small, seductive smile curved his lips even as his gaze slid down her body. It was easy to return that smile. She liked the way men looked at her these days. Oh, she had always gotten her share of looks. What man didn’t like a long-legged, attractive blond after all? But the looks she got these days—now that she dressed for comfort and sex appeal rather than convention and wealth—were more desirous, hot, and made her feel like a true woman.
“Good afternoon,” he said and nodded ever so slightly in greeting. He was a tall man, impossibly built, his hair dark and slightly long on top. Several strands hung together in a curl over his right brow. His eyes were the color of milk chocolate and full of amused intrigue. “I’m Ryan Magee.” He extended his hand. “What can I do for you?”
The glint in his eyes and the crooked way his lips tilted opened a realm of possible answers to his question. No doubt there was a lot this man could do for her if given the chance.
“The house on Cumberland Road
,” he guessed correctly.
“Yes, well, I wanted—”
“You’re Veronica Abbott, right?” The voice sounded as though it had come from inside a drum, and she realized it was the man behind the glass that had spoken. “Come in here.”
She glanced at Magee, knowing the expression on her face would look as though she were asking his permission. He motioned with a flourish of his arm for her to proceed. Without the outside glare on the glass between them to contend with, she immediately recognized the other man as Kyle Shannon.
“I thought I recognized you when you pulled up. Nice car,” he said with a boyish grin, and Veronica saw that he hadn’t changed much over the years. He was still the same, ordinary guy he had always been. His hair remained an ordinary shade of brown, cut in an ordinary style. His eyes were blue but not a spectacular bright shade or even a deep mesmerizing color, just blue. He wasn’t muscle bound, nor was he a beanpole. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, nor upchuck ugly. He was simply…ordinary.
“Thanks. It was my birthday present to myself.” She'd needed something to replace the mini-van. That one hadn't been her idea. Robert had insisted they buy something large enough to transport the children. It hadn't seemed to matter to him that they didn't have children and hadn't even been trying to get pregnant.
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