Kitty Valentine Dates a Fireman

by Dodd, Jillian

  Yes, but Dustin acted kind too. He treated me like I was the only woman in the world. Really, all he wanted was a quick lay and publicity from having his name in one of my books. Looks can be deceptive.

  “I think I know how you can make it up to me,” I inform.

  “Really? What can I do?”

  Darn it, he looks so contrite, his thick brows pulled together over the bridge of his nose, his mouth turned down at the corners.

  “You can help me with a book I need to write. About a firefighter. That’s the reason I’m here. To meet a firefighter and learn about his work, so I can use that information for my next book. My grandmother insisted I bid on you,” I add at the end because, obviously, there were twenty-three other men to choose from and there was no other reason I absolutely had to choose him.

  He blinks, staring at me. “I’m a little confused.”

  “It’s a long story, which I guess we can get into another time. Like when we get together.”

  One problem: now that I have him, I don’t know what to do with him. This would be awkward enough if he was a complete stranger.

  All I can think of is how to avoid making myself look like a dork. I can’t help it. I’m used to him searching for the weakest point and going for it, guns blazing. I’m used to him taking advantage of any little slip of the tongue.

  “That would be great. I’d love the chance to get to know you now. I never had the chance before, and I was always sorry for that.” He rubs the back of his neck again with a wry grin. “You’ll think I’m lying when I say this, but I actually had a crush on you back then.”

  “You’re right. I do think you’re lying.”

  “Fair enough.” He holds out a hand between us. “Let’s start from the beginning, huh? I’m Bryce. I’m a New York City firefighter. I would like to get to know you. Over dinner maybe? What do you think?”

  I think that when he smiles, I can almost forget how miserable he made me. How he used to make the other kids laugh at me. He’s going to have to work pretty hard to get in my good graces.

  “I think you should let me know when you’re free. I’m sure your schedule is different from mine.” Instead of shaking his hand, I press a slip of paper into it. “My number. I look forward to learning more about what you do for a living.”

  His smile falters but only a little. “Fair enough again. I’ll give you a call on Monday after my schedule is posted. Sound good?”

  “Sure. And, um, it’s nice of you to help raise money for the shelters.” That’s all I allow myself to say right now. “See you soon.”

  Yes, it’s better for me to get out of here now since I don’t trust myself and I need to get my head on straight. Four glasses of champagne don’t mix well with a hefty dose of surprise and a sprinkling of childhood humiliation.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Something greasy, please.” It’s a struggle to keep my head off the table the morning after the auction.

  Hayley’s in much better shape than I am, but that’s nothing new. It’s pretty much on-brand for our friendship really. “She’ll have two eggs fried over easy, bacon, hash browns, and rye toast with butter.”

  “Yeah, that sounds about right.” A sip of my mimosa makes the world feel a little less brutal. Hair of the dog and all that. But I won’t have more than one. In fact, I might never drink another mimosa for as long as I live. Champagne isn’t worth the morning after.

  When we’re alone, she shakes her head at me. “Okay, now that we’re together, explain what the heck that rambling voice mail was all about last night. I could barely make out half of it.”

  “Sorry. I was a little upset.”

  “A little? You were ranting so fast that all your words ran together. I was thinking you’d at least be in a decent mood today. Scoring a hunky firefighter.”

  “I scored one. He’s hunky—I’ll give him that much.” I can’t keep her in suspense forever, so I open up and share exactly who Bryce is and what he means to me.

  By the time I’m finished, our food has arrived.

  Hayley barely glances down at it even though she was starving just a few minutes ago. “You bid on your bully?”

  “It wasn’t my idea!”

  “Didn’t they have, you know, a booklet or something with information on the bachelors up for auction?”

  Whoops. “I don’t know.” I sink a little in my seat. “Maybe. I was too busy with stupid Matt.”

  “Matt? What’s he got to do with anything? I swear, I let you go out without me just one freaking time, and look what happens.”

  I have to catch her up on that as I plow through the enormous platter she ordered for me. “Go with the grits instead of potatoes next time,” I advise when I’m finished filling her in.

  “Yeah, will do. So, wait. Matt was one of the bachelors?”

  “Yep.”

  Her laughter rings out, making a few of our fellow diners look our way. She ignores them, which she’s very good at doing. “And he made all that money for the shelters? He’ll never let you live it down.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that. Believe me, I’m already bracing myself for what I know is coming.” I pick up a piece of toast. “No butter on the toast next time either. I like to make a bacon sandwich with the toast, but if there’s already butter on it …”

  “Right, right. So, you were too busy setting Matt up, which means you were too busy setting yourself up, to check out who the bachelors were before the auction started.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t even think about it, to be honest. Grandmother said she had everything under control. I didn’t like it, but how was I supposed to know the one she’d chosen was the bane of my childhood?”

  “Just think, you dated your dream crush, and now, you’ll date the person who made you miserable around the same time. It’s like you’re coming full circle.”

  “I wish I had a best friend who supported me. I truly do.”

  “Come on …”

  “Somebody who’d sympathize and tell me it’s not my fault fate has a hard-on for me.”

  “Kitty!” She almost chokes on her French toast.

  “I’m serious. Last night, I was fired up and more than a little buzzed. I couldn’t wait to tear into him. That was before I spoke to him face-to-face.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was nice!” I throw my hands in the air.

  “Oh no!” Hayley giggles. “How dare he be nice!”

  “You don’t get it. I expected him to be mean. Or to laugh it off like it was all a joke and that I needed to get over it. I expected him to at least remind me how much time had passed. But he remembered me. He was sorry. I mean, it seemed like he was legitimately sorry. Not fake sorry.”

  “What a monster.”

  “You’re no help.”

  She laughs, gently kicking me under the table. “I’m sorry. Really. That must’ve been such a shock, seeing him. Like being dropped in an icy pool with no warning.”

  “That’s exactly how it felt. I might as well have been eleven years old again. Not in a good way. He used to humiliate me. I couldn’t do anything right. I never did know why.”

  “Maybe he was just a sociopathic kid who received treatment.”

  “You can’t treat a sociopath. It doesn’t work that way.” I chew on a piece of toast, thinking it over. “You know, he even said he had a crush on me back then.”

  “What?” It’s a shriek. An absolute shriek.

  “Sorry,” I whisper to the people around us, who are none too thrilled with my bestie at the moment. It’s usually me who attracts negative attention when I do things like that. This is almost refreshing.

  She ignores them again in favor of leaning across the table. “So, he said he had a crush on you back then? That was why he tormented you?”

  “How lame, right? Like, the oldest story in the book.”

  “But it’s been known to happen or else it wouldn’t be the oldest story. Somebody, at some time, had a crush on somebody
else and didn’t know what to do about it. So, they teased the person they had the crush on.”

  “This wasn’t teasing. And it’s not like I’m the only person he ever bullied. The kid got suspended for it once.”

  “Yikes.”

  “I’m glad social media wasn’t such a thing back then, or he would’ve made my life miserable both in and out of school. I swear, I don’t know how kids do it nowadays.”

  “We’re careening off-topic.” She folds her hands, very businesslike. “What we have here is a case of a man who could very well have grown up and out of the whole bullying thing over the years you haven’t known him. You said he was a veteran. We know he’s a firefighter. I mean, this speaks well for him.”

  “True.”

  “And there’s been a lot of time for a person to grow and mature since then.”

  “Also true.”

  “Didn’t you ever do anything back then that you’d never think of doing now?”

  I roll my eyes. “Hayley, this is hardly the same as looking up dirty words on the internet.”

  “You know what I mean. I say, give him a chance. And even if this goes no further than a single date, make sure you get everything you need out of him before it’s over. All the information, all the terms you need to know. Get him to tell you stories and take notes, if you have to, right in front of him. For once, you’re going out with a man who knows from the get-go why you’re dating him.”

  “That’s true. It’ll be easier to do what I need since he already knows why I’m going on this date in the first place. I don’t have to worry about hurting his feelings or having him think I’m using him.”

  “If anything, he deserves to have his feelings hurt a little.”

  “Also true.”

  “But I know you. You’re not the sort of person to hurt somebody’s feelings on purpose.”

  “I think you’re wrong about me.”

  “I’m not. You’re a good person. You’re sweet and loving and considerate when you aren’t throwing dramatic fits.”

  “Thanks, I think?”

  “You’ll want to hurt him, but you won’t. It’s not in your nature. You’ll be snarky, of course, because you’re good at that. But in the end, you’ll let it go. You’ll get all the information you need, and you’ll write a best seller. Because that’s what you do.”

  “It doesn’t seem right.”

  “What doesn’t?”

  “Letting him get away without punishing him somehow. He deserves it. I’m serious,” I insist when Hayley shakes her head. “He made me cry. He humiliated me. I wanted to switch schools because of him.”

  “And I’m really, truly, deeply sorry that happened to you. Hey!” She brightens up like somebody flipped a switch and turned on the lights. “I know! You should write about that. Maybe do a bully romance. That’s popular right now, you know.”

  “So I’ve heard. It’s a shame I’m writing about firefighters and not bullies this time.”

  “But you know what I’m saying. You could … purge yourself of all that bad energy. All those memories. Put them to good use. And it could be a healing experience for you.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I could take notes for another project somewhere down the line.”

  “Or you could start vomiting words up right now, when you get home. Get rid of it, as much as you can. You’ll feel better when you have to see him.”

  I don’t bother telling her she’s right. She’s heard it enough from me by now.

  I’m feeling slightly more human by the time I get home, though trudging upstairs to my apartment is still a chore with half a hangover. It’s only when I’m nearing the top that I think of Matt and decide tiptoeing is a fun way to walk.

  Somehow—this doesn’t come as a surprise—he’s already outthought me and stacked roughly ten books in front of my door. Right. The brain science books he was telling me about. Now, I have to move the books out of the way just to get the door open and get into the apartment.

  Part of me wants to turn around and kick his door, but that would only give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten to me. Which is what he wants.

  Instead, I ever so gently push the stack out of the way until it’s possible to get around them without knocking the whole tower over and alerting him to my presence. Only when I start moving them into the apartment do I see the sticky note he left on the top book.

  Maybe this will help you get over the sting of being wrong. Again.

  “Ooh, I just hate you.” I crumple up the note and throw it at his door, for lack of anything else to do.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I now know what it must feel like to sit down at a peace summit with a longtime foe looking back at you from the other side of the table with nothing in the world to do but figure out a way to coexist without any bombs going off.

  Though, in my case, the bombs would be entirely mine. I’d be the one blowing things up.

  While Bryce would be trying his best to make peace.

  I can tell right away that making peace is all he wants to do.

  “Thank you so much for coming.” He’s sporting a more rugged look than he was when we saw each other over the weekend. Wearing a turtleneck sweater and jeans that somehow make him look even better than the tux did. I would find this outfit painfully more appealing if it were on any other man in the world.

  Heck, even if he were Matt. It’s not like I’m immune to his hotness.

  “Of course. My grandmother paid a pretty penny for my evening with you.”

  He smiles slightly. It’s obvious he’s still unsure of himself and unclear of what’s going on with me, why we’re together, how it came to be. “She’s generous. I didn’t know you had wealthy connections.”

  “How would you have ever gotten the chance to learn anything about me? You were busy tripping me, calling me names, pushing me around, laughing at me. And not just me, of course.”

  Wow, this isn’t going well, is it? I know I’m supposed to play nice, but I’d rather pull out my own teeth.

  Seeing him again has brought all those old issues to the surface. I’ve spent the past two days writing out everything I could remember and how it made me feel, how much I hated him back then, how much he made me hate myself. I was even feeling better for a while. I convinced myself to let bygones be bygones.

  But now, with him in front me, all that has been wiped away.

  He sighs, leaning back in his chair. It’s a fairly casual restaurant—cute, sort of a hipster vibe. People feel free to relax here. Nobody cares very much that he looks upset. Except for me.

  “I wish there were something I could say to take it all back. I really do. I swear, from the bottom of my heart, I’ve spent years trying to make up for the things I did back then. I know it sounds corny,” he admits when I snicker, “but it’s true. Back then, I didn’t care who I hurt. I wanted somebody else to hurt the way I was hurting. That’s all I wanted.”

  A tale as old as time.

  “Lots of people hurt though. I went through a lot of hurt when my parents died. I didn’t go around pushing people down the stairs.”

  “I know. It was wrong. I went through therapy. I also went to military school.” He smirks at my gasp. “Yeah. And you know what? I needed it. Big time. It straightened me out.”

  “It looks that way—from your bio, I mean.”

  He nods, solemn. “I hated it at first, of course. I tried to break out. I was so full of myself. I hate the kid I was then, really. It took years, but one of the shrinks there finally got through to me. I’d … had some challenges when I was a kid. Things I don’t like to talk about.” He looks down at the table, his jaw twitching.

  “I see.”

  “When I shared them with the shrink—once I trusted him enough to share—he helped me connect the dots. I had to process what had happened. I had to get through it. Once I did, things fell in line. Don’t get me wrong.” He chuckles. “It wasn’t overnight. But I got my act together.”
/>   “I’m really glad you did.” And I am.

  I’m not a monster. I’m not some cold, unsympathetic beast. If what he’s telling me is true—and it sounds like it is unless he’s a heck of an actor—he was only lashing out as a kid. It was painful and terrible for me and everyone he bullied, but he was a child. It’s easy to forget that part.

  “Thanks. But that doesn’t change what I did. Or how sorry I am.” He leans in, arms on the table. “I really am sorry. I can tell you’re still mad at me, and I don’t blame you. I’d be mad too. I put you through some awful shit, didn’t I?”

  His choice of words makes me laugh. I can’t help it.

  “Yeah, you did. Awful. You made me dread going to school.”

  “Oh, Kitty.” His face just about crumples up. “It kills me. It really does. Since I wasn’t kidding when I said I had a crush on you back then.”

  Darn my treacherous cheeks for flushing. “Not really.”

  “Yes, really. Even though you were younger, even though there were cute girls my age. Of course, none of them would look at me. I was a prick; what can I say? They had better taste than that, even at the age of thirteen. But you stuck out to me.”

  “Why? How?”

  He shrugs, which brings my focus to his thick, muscular shoulders. “You just did. You were pretty, and you had a lot of friends. You were always laughing with them. Teachers liked you. Even the maintenance people liked you. I guess that drew me in even though I told myself you were a nerd for it. But you caught my attention, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I was too young and stupid and scared.”

  “I was sure you hated me, and I had no idea why.”

  “I hated me. Not you. I reached out to Toby Powers, the kid I sent down the stairs. I wanted to make things right.” He grins, a little sad. “He told me to go fuck myself.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I deserved that.” He meets my gaze. “What about you? Do you think I should go fuck myself?”

  Do I? I told myself earlier that he should, that I wanted him to do that and a whole lot worse.