In Love with the Firefighter Read online

  Arnold bumped into a table in the crowded garage and knocked over a stepladder leaning on it. The ladder clattered to the floor and Arnold stared at it for a moment before lying down and putting his face on his paws.

  “He’s going blind,” Kevin said. “It’s worse when he’s tired. We’re headed home for some sleep, but I’ll be back this evening to start in. If I get a coat of primer on before the sun goes down, I can start putting paint on tomorrow.”

  “Make fun of me if you want, but this place will make me a pile of cash. Think about it, Kevin. You can only fight fires for so long, and the real estate business is a great fallback plan.”

  Kevin shrugged. “Fighting fires is in my blood. If I ever get too old to do it, I’ll hang around the station and bore the young guys with stories about how we used to do things back in my day.” He grinned and scratched Arnold’s ears while he talked. “Maybe they’ll let me toss my walker in the back of the truck and drive them to the fires.”

  Charlie leaned against the wall. “You putting your name in for a promotion? When the chief retires in a few months, everyone will probably move up a notch. Might open up a lieutenant’s job for you, maybe even captain.”

  “Thought about it,” Kevin admitted. His older brother was already a lieutenant with just a few more years than Kevin on the department. “How about you? Are you applying?”

  “No thanks,” Charlie said. “I’m happy to stay out of paperwork at the station. Leadership is a whole lot of responsibility.”

  “Fighting fires is a responsibility,” Kevin said.

  Charlie shook his head. “Not the same thing. When you’re an officer, the place owns you, body and soul. And I’m not interested in being owned by anything.”

  “Or anyone?”

  Charlie laughed. “Definitely not. I’m in the rental business for the foreseeable future. Pretty women, ugly houses.”

  “Give me a few days and this one won’t be ugly anymore,” Kevin said. He hoisted Arnold into his truck, got in and backed out of the driveway. Charlie waved as he pulled away, and Kevin wondered how his friend could choose selling houses instead of aiming for the top job at the fire department.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JANE OPENED HER front door, stepped out of her shoes and dropped her purse on a chair in the living room. Her feet hurt and she was starving, but it had been a good afternoon. Several small paintings and a few gift items had sold, and she’d also enlisted Nicole to rearrange the displays in the front windows of the gallery. Business was picking up on the waves of spring sunshine, and she had a lot to hope for in her future—more than she’d even admitted to her best friend.

  “We could order a pizza,” Jane said. “I think I could eat the entire thing myself.”

  “No way. I’ve been here five days, and I haven’t cooked once,” Nicole said as she took off her shoes and left them by the front door. “Either I’m living a dream, or I’m being a lousy friend.”

  Jane wandered into the kitchen with Nicole right behind her. She took a can of cat food from a lower cabinet and smiled at her houseguest. “You’re not a lousy friend. You’ve been busy moving in and helping me build my art empire.”

  “You look exhausted,” Nicole said, giving Jane a long look. “And I like cooking.”

  “I’m thrilled to have you here, but I’ll make you a deal if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll feed Claudette, and you make dinner for us two.”

  “Deal,” Nicole said.

  Nicole took a skillet from a rack near the sink while Jane found a clean bowl for her cat. It was nice having someone else in her kitchen. As much as she loved owning and running her gallery and living a peaceful life in a seaside town, the loneliness hit her every night when she came home. Having Nicole living with her gave her someone to talk to.

  Someone she should confide in. Soon.

  As Nicole sliced vegetables, Jane peeled back the metal lid on the can of cat food. Claudette circled her legs, excited about her evening meal. Without warning, the sight and smell of the wet food hit Jane like a wave of filthy water. She put her hand to her mouth, nearly retching, and dropped the can on the counter. It rolled, crashing loudly into the stainless steel sink.

  “What’s the matter?” Nicole asked, rushing over. “Did you cut yourself on the lid?”

  Jane shook her head and gripped the edge of the counter, fighting nausea. She heard a chair scrape the kitchen floor and felt Nicole pressing her into it.

  “Jane, say something,” Nicole said. “Do you need a cold cloth or a drink?”

  “I’m all right,” she protested. “The cat food smell just got me there for a minute.”

  Claudette danced around the chair legs, sniffing the air, and then jumped into Jane’s lap. Nicole grabbed the cat and set her gently on the floor. She wound through Jane’s legs and tickled her bare feet.

  “She’s hungry,” Jane whispered.

  “She can wait a minute. What’s going on with you? You’ve smelled cat food a million times, and if I know Claudette, she’s been eating the same kind of food since we were in college. She knows her own mind.”

  Jane sat back and took a deep breath. “I’m okay now. It was a passing thing.”

  Nicole put the food in the cat’s bowl and set it on the floor on the far side of the kitchen. She grabbed a chair and pulled it close to Jane’s.

  “Talk to me,” Nicole commanded.

  Before she could say a word, Jane’s tears betrayed her. “I was planning to tell you, but I wanted you to get settled in first.”

  Nicole put an arm around Jane’s shoulders. “Tell me what? Oh, God, are you sick? What’s wrong?”

  Noticing the worry in her friend’s eyes, Jane tried to smile. “I’m not sick. At least not permanently.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

  It was the first time she had said the words aloud. Jane hadn’t spoken of it to anyone, even after her doctor confirmed it several weeks ago. It was her secret, the new life growing in her body. She hadn’t even told her parents, though she knew she couldn’t conceal it from them much longer. They lived an hour away, and she was surprised her mother hadn’t already figured out there was something going on, just from her voice over the phone.

  “I wondered,” Nicole said.

  “You did?”

  “There were just a few things that didn’t seem...right.”

  “You can say that again,” Jane said, sniffing and swiping at her tears. She’d already accepted the change her life was taking. A baby. For the past few weeks, the thought had come over her like sunshine through a window. Exciting, warming, but illuminating, too. How was she going to manage a baby along with her gallery? Was she ready to be a single mother? Or a mother at all?

  Jane had found her own peace and joy about the child, but her emotions overwhelmed her as she tried talking about it for the first time. It was liberating but frightening, and she choked back sobs. Nicole jumped up and came back with a box of tissues.

  “It’ll be okay,” Nicole said.

  Jane wiped her eyes while Nicole rubbed her back and didn’t ask questions. “I’m not crying because I’m sad,” Jane mumbled from behind her tissues. “Having a baby isn’t a tragedy.”

  “Of course not,” Nicole assured her. “And you’re not alone. I’m here. And Claudette will be a wonderful babysitter while we’re at the gallery.”

  Jane laughed and wadded up her tissues. She looked at her friend’s sincere, supportive smile. “What am I going to do?”

  “Be a wonderful mother.”

  “I hope so,” she whispered. “At first I was stunned. Couldn’t believe it. But then I realized there was only one thing I could do. Be excited that I’m getting a wonderful and unexpected gift.”

  “Can I be Aunt Nicole?”

  “Of course. I’m an only child, so you’re the only aunt my baby is going
to get.”

  Nicole nodded and waited silently, hands on her knees.

  “You know you want to ask,” Jane said. She would have been dying to ask if the tables were turned.

  “Ask what?” Nicole said. “I’m here for you, and that’s all I need to know.”

  “The father.”

  Nicole got up and poured two glasses of water. “You only have to tell me what you want to tell me.”

  Jane took a long, soothing drink. There was no reason to keep the truth from Nicole. Perhaps her best friend could help her figure out what to do.

  “Charlie Zimmerman,” she said. “Realtor, firefighter, baby daddy.”

  Nicole sucked in her lower lip but didn’t say anything.

  “I’ve known him for five years. We’re friends,” Jane said swiftly. “He’s funny and attractive...but I didn’t think he was interested in me other than my status as the kid sister of the fire department. And then...”

  “Then?”

  “Stupid Valentine’s Day,” Jane muttered. “What a dumb holiday. It should be outlawed. It just makes single people feel unworthy and couples feel like they have to come up with some magical present or date. And then sometimes you go on dates you never would have accepted if it weren’t Valentine’s Day.”

  “True,” Nicole conceded. “I spent it watching my favorite movie and drinking wine by myself this year.”

  “Under the Tuscan Sun?”

  Nicole nodded. “I swear I’m going to run away to Italy one of these days.”

  “I wish I had been there watching it with you,” Jane said. “I wouldn’t have ended up single and pregnant.”

  “So you went on a date with Charlie on Valentine’s Day?”

  “No. We both had dates with other people.”

  Nicole leaned back. “This is getting interesting.”

  Jane laughed. “It’s not funny.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. Right after I get our dinner cooking.” She stood and turned on the burner. “You need to eat, and I’m happy to listen and cook at the same time.”

  Jane watched Nicole scoop ingredients into the pan, and the aroma reminded her she was actually hungry. The sick feeling from the cat food was long gone. Poor Claudette. She might need to switch to dry food for a few months. And when the baby came along...how would an aging house cat, set in her ways, adjust to the change?

  How would she adjust to the change?

  “He doesn’t know,” Jane said as Nicole stirred.

  “I assumed. When he sat with us at the bar, I thought there might be something between you.” She turned and held a large spoon in the air. “But I had no idea.”

  “I have to tell him.”

  “You do,” Nicole agreed. “But not tonight.”

  Jane laughed. “No, not tonight. But it’s not the kind of thing you can hide forever. Not that I’d want to.”

  “And what do you think he’ll say?”

  “I have almost no doubt about it. He’ll ask me to marry him.”

  “That jerk!” Nicole said, grinning. “And everyone thinks those firefighters are such heroes. Everyone except me, of course.”

  “That’s exactly the problem. He’ll offer to do what he thinks is the right thing without a second thought.”

  “But you’d have second thoughts.”

  “Of course I would. I’ve known him a long time, and he’s no fan of commitment. Dated one girl after another, never staying with anyone for long. He would only marry me out of obligation, and I don’t want to be someone’s obligation. I’m worth more than that.”

  * * *

  FOLLOWING POLICE ORDERS, Charlie and Ethan waited behind the shelter of the fire truck while several officers entered the dilapidated home in a neglected section of Cape Pursuit. Far from the eyes of tourists, it was a five-minute ride from the fire station. Calls to the Dune Heights area of town often ended in a refusal of treatment, and domestic violence calls left Charlie and his fellow firefighters with the sick feeling that someone needed their help but wasn’t going to get it.

  “I hate these calls,” Ethan muttered.

  Charlie nodded. Everyone hated seeing drunk guys threaten their wives and families. His father would have cut off his own arm before threatening his wife and son. He would also have given that arm to have more years with Charlie’s mother, who died far too young of breast cancer.

  “Maybe it’s a false alarm,” Charlie said. He listened closely for any sounds coming from the house. “It happens.”

  Ethan blew out a breath and leaned against the truck. The midday sun flashed off the chrome pump. Charlie peered through the open middle of the truck, where the pump operator usually stood. Both he and Ethan wore full turnout gear and smelled like smoke. The Dumpster fire behind a fast-food restaurant in town hadn’t taken long to put out, and they were returning to the station when the call came in. The rest of their crew had returned to the station to grab the ambulance, but Ethan and Charlie went straight to the scene. The massive pumper truck was stocked with first aid and rescue equipment.

  “I’d take a false alarm,” Ethan said. “Police only came to my house once when I was a kid, despite my parents constantly drinking and fighting. It wasn’t a false alarm that day.”

  Charlie knew Ethan had a tough background. Instead of letting it destroy his life, he funneled every ounce of pain into doing the right thing. He fought fires, saved lives and never touched alcohol. He went along to the bar with his friends, and he drove them all home every single time. The eight-passenger SUV he owned probably cost him a fortune in car payments and gas.

  “My dad spent the night in jail and it educated him for quite a while about his drinking limit.” Ethan took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his damp hair. “I can’t believe some days they’re both still alive.” Ethan shrugged and sat on the chrome step on the side of the truck. “Well, I don’t see them much even though they live right up the street.”

  Charlie sat next to him and rested his elbows on his knees. It was hot on the shiny chrome bumper, blistering in his turnout gear. A cool shower at the station sounded like heaven, but he and Ethan would stay and sweat it out, hoping for the chance to help.

  A police officer stepped around the front of the truck, and Charlie and Ethan jumped to their feet. “You better come in here,” he said. “We took out the husband in cuffs, but the wife could use some attention.”

  Charlie hoisted the medical bag on his shoulder, and he and Ethan trudged up to the house behind the cop. The front steps had a missing board and one of the numbers over the front door was missing. A faded outline of the number two indicated where it had been. Still wearing his helmet, Charlie ducked out of habit as he went through the front door.

  A woman sat on the only cushion left on a decrepit couch. She held a kitchen towel to her head. Charlie knelt in front of her and quickly snapped on the gloves his partner handed him. “I’m Charlie,” he said gently. “I’m a firefighter and I’m here to help you. Can I look at your injury?”

  He heard Ethan talking with one of the police officers, asking if there were any other injured people in the house. The room looked like a battlefield. A table was overturned, a window was broken and there was a sizable hole in the wall above the couch.

  The woman looked warily at Charlie. He took off his helmet and set it next to him on the floor so she could see him better. He opened his hands and held them in front of her so she could see there was nothing in them. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

  She lowered the towel and Charlie didn’t flinch when he saw the bloody mess on the side of her face. Although he’d seen worse at fire scenes and car accidents, the wounds inflicted by a person’s supposed loved ones always seemed to be the ugliest.

  The police officers had left the room so Ethan and Charlie could help the victim. Ethan snapped open an ice pack and h
anded it to Charlie. He stood back, letting Charlie take the lead because he was the first person to talk to the patient. Charlie heard the ambulance’s siren approaching. “A few of my partners are coming, and they’ll take you to the hospital.”

  “What makes you think I’m goin’?” the woman asked. Her lip quivered when she spoke.

  “You need to,” he said gently. “Your cut needs a few stitches.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Charlie said, hoping he’d gained some of her trust. Ethan could take the truck back. He could wear his heavy turnout gear just a little longer. He placed sterile gauze on the open wound on her temple and held the ice pack over the bandage. She didn’t object. Her dirty hair, streaked with gray, had already stuck to the drying blood on the side of her face. Charlie was afraid she’d crumple if they tried to pick her up.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Karleen,” she said.

  “Hey,” a loud voice yelled in the adjoining room. Charlie glanced up in time to see a massive bearded man staggering into the living room. He was shirtless and disheveled. “You can’t take my brother to jail just for beating up this—”

  Charlie stood and shielded the woman on the couch, and Ethan moved swiftly and pinned the large man against the door frame. He fought back, and a lamp crashed to the floor, but Ethan was almost as large and had the advantage of a thick suit of turnout gear. Charlie wanted to jump into the fight, but his first duty was to protect his patient, so he stood his ground. Ethan was winning anyway.

  At the sound of the scuffle, two cops rushed back into the living room and were followed by Tony Ruggles and his father, the fire chief. When the assailant saw he was outnumbered by six men ready to fight, he backed off.

  “I ain’t going to jail, too,” the bearded man said. “I was just sayin’ it ain’t right to take her word over his. She’s just as drunk.”