by Score, Lucy
The weird and wonderful camaraderie of a fire company.
“Hey, Cap’n!” Al, a fifteen-year volunteer and driver engineer, gave him a wave.
“What happened to your ’stache, Al?” Linc asked. The man stroked a hand over what was now only half of a sparse mustache.
“Lost a bet. Had to shave half of it.” He grinned. Betting and losing bets was a way of life in the BFD. Since making chief, Linc steered clear of the betting. Though he distinctly remembered the last one he’d lost. He’d had to dye his hair blue and call himself Papa Smurf.
“How’d Rocco take that?” Two years ago, Al had married his long-time boyfriend in a ceremony attended by the entire department. The happy couple was whisked away from the reception on the back of a ladder truck in an impromptu Benevolence parade. Linc had been prepared for flak from the city and was fully intending to cover the cost of gas on his own dime when the mayor showed up with a wedding gift and her congratulations for the happy couple.
“Rocco threatened to shave off the other half if it doesn’t look better by his niece’s quinceañera. I think the motivation will make it grow back faster,” Al said optimistically.
Linc climbed up to ride shotgun in the boxy tanker truck. Brody pulled the behemoth out of the bay doors and made a wide, slow turn onto the road. Two-thousand gallons of water sloshed behind them in the tank, ready and waiting to be put to good use.
“Your doc isn’t used to people being nice to her,” Brody said without preamble.
“Don’t I know it,” Linc said, sliding on a pair of sunglasses.
“Can’t help but wonder what that’s all about,” Brody mused. “She ever say where she got that scar?”
Linc shook his head, shot his buddy a glance. “You think they’re related?”
“Got a feeling,” Brody said, patting a hand over his heart.
Linc did, too.
“She’s pretty tight-lipped on where she’s from.”
“You could ask,” Brody suggested. “Seein’ as how you two are spending time slow dancing at Remo’s and all.”
Linc smirked. His friend knew how to time the delivery of good gossip.
“I could. But that doesn’t mean she’d answer.” He’d put money on that.
“The strong, silent type,” his friend sighed. He eased the tanker around a corner, waved to a pack of kids, home from school and desperate to play, in a front yard.
“On the money.”
“You could look her up. Run a background.”
“And ruin the fun of playing getting-to-know-you?” Linc hated to admit that he’d had the same thought. But he dismissed it after envisioning her righteously pissed-off response to the invasion of privacy.
It was better to be patient. To earn her confidence.
“Haven’t heard of you hitting the singles’ nights anywhere lately,” Brody mused, making a wide turn into the service station and tooting the horn.
“Haven’t been interested lately.”
Brody’s grin was broad. “It’s about damn time. The doc might need some convincing.”
“I’m a persuasive guy,” Linc said confidently.
* * *
“Honey, I’m home,” Linc called through the no longer squeaky screen door of Mack’s house. It was what could be dubbed an autumn night. The air was cooler, with an edge of crispness to it. Every cottage window was wide open, inviting the evening breeze inside.
Sunshine ran a celebratory lap around the living room before launching herself at the door.
“Don’t take it too seriously,” Mack said, limping over to open it for him. “She did the same thing after I came back from the bathroom.”
“How’s my beautiful girl?” he asked, ruffling Sunshine’s fur with one hand.
“I’d be better if people stopped showing up at my house,” Mack answered with a quirk of her lips.
“Long day of socializing?” he asked, noting that despite the complaint, she seemed happier than she’d been this morning.
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the coffee table where three gift bags and a fruit platter waited. “You have no idea.”
“I grew up here,” he countered. “I can imagine.”
“You’d think I cured cancer with one arm tied behind my back,” she said, gimping out of his way as he came inside. “I was just doing my job.”
“And they’re grateful for that, Dreamy. So am I.” He produced the riotous bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back with a flourish.
She sighed, and he knew he’d hit on a weakness. There wasn’t much about Mackenzie O’Neil that said soft and romantic. But the woman appreciated flowers.
“You’re giving our neighbors the wrong idea,” she complained.
“I’m hoping I’m giving you the right idea. Besides, I figured the ones from your first day at work had to be potpourri by now.”
She rolled her eyes but buried her face in the blooms.
“That’s both thoughtful and unnecessary. Just like you sending a team of firefighters to handle my yard maintenance.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a wicked grin.
“Thank you,” she said dryly.
He sniffed the air. “Someone’s been playing Betty Crocker.”
“Betty Crocker and Betty Ford,” she said, nodding at the pitcher on the butcher block. “Tom Collins courtesy of Mrs. Washington.”
“God bless small towns,” he said reverently. “How about you pour a couple of those Tom Collins and sit your ass on the deck while I grill? We’ll talk about our days like a nice married couple.”
“The worst, Reed. You’re the worst.”
But they did just that. Linc put the flowers in water and brought throw pillows from the couch to elevate Mack’s foot on a chair. And while he grilled marinated chicken and Sunshine romped around the backyard trying to catch bugs, they compared their days.
“Seven firefighters, Christa and Jillian—your sisters pumped me for information on whether or not we’re dating— Gloria and Aldo with pie that we can eat with the cookies, Mrs. Washington with the much-appreciated alcohol supplies, Harper and Sophie brought ice cream to eat with the pie. My new pal Ellen came by with a health-conscious fruit tray and a couple of Blu-rays to keep me entertained. And Tuesday, Freida, and Russell popped by on their lunch break to tell me they’re giving me tomorrow off, too.” She ticked them all off on her fingers and tried to look annoyed.
But he could tell it had touched her. Annoyed her, sure. But also touched her.
They enjoyed huge, grilled-to-perfection chicken salads and a second Tom Collins for them both…because why not?
“What kind of pie is it?” Linc asked. Gloria Moretta’s reputation as a sinful angel in the kitchen was well-earned.
“Apple with one of those fancy lattice crusts,” she said.
“I’ll warm up the pie,” he volunteered.
“I’ll get the ice cream.”
He helped her out of the chair, and because the humans were abandoning her, Sunshine raced across the yard and beat them both to the back door.
“How did it go with my girl today?” he asked.
He noted the fond look Mack sent the dog as Sunshine shoved her face in the opening, forcing the door open wider.
“She was good company. She’s a little on the needy side,” Mack said. “But I didn’t mind having her around. I think I’m starting to speak dog.” In response, Sunshine plopped down, blocking the entrance and stared lovingly up at the pretty doctor.
He and Mack were going to get married and have babies and yellow labs everywhere, Linc decided.
“Move it, pretty girl,” he said, nudging the dog out of their way.
He caught the wince on Mack’s face when she shifted her weight. He pointed her in the direction of the tiny kitchen table and planted her in the chair. Doctors were the worst patients. She’d probably spent half the day on her feet.
“I’m tired of resting.”
“Yeah, well, that broken bone
isn’t gonna heal itself with you walking half-marathons on it, now is it?”
“No one likes a know-it-all,” she complained.
“I’ll bring you the ingredients. You plate the dessert. Points for presentation,” he told her.
He found the pie in the fridge, bowls in the cabinet by the sink, and the ice cream in the otherwise empty freezer.
“Take one last look at this perfection before I massacre it into slices,” he said, holding the pie up. They admired it for a full three seconds.
“Okay, I’m ready for the massacre,” Mack decided.
The doorbell rang halfway through the second stab of the knife. When Mack merely groaned and slumped in her chair, Linc went to see who it was. Sunshine, he noted, stayed with Mack…and the pie.
Sheriff Ty Adler, in uniform, squad car in Mack’s driveway, took off his hat.
“Bein’ neighborly?” he asked Linc with a grin.
“Bein’ sheriffy?” Linc shot back.
“Wish it were a social call. Is the lady of the house around, or are you just breaking in to sniff her undies while she’s out?”
“Please tell me that’s not from an actual call,” Linc begged.
“You’d be surprised.”
“If you’re here to tell us that asshole is going to jail for a long, long time, then you’re just in time for pie and ice cream.”
“It might be a topic of discussion,” Ty mused, rubbing the bruise on his jaw.
“Come on back. Mack, we’ve got company of the law enforcement officer type.” At the closing of the screen door, Sunshine gave up her vigil and trotted into the living room for a proper greeting.
He led dog and man into Mack’s kitchen and pulled another bowl out of the cabinet.
“Dr. O’Neil,” Ty said formally.
“It’s Mack,” she said. “Have a seat.”
He took the chair across from her and glanced down at the pie. “Looks like another crime’s been committed. Who the hell murdered this poor, beautiful thing? And if it was you, doc, remind me not to let you do any surgery on me.”
“Still eats the same,” Linc said, scooping a third clump of pie into a bowl. “Warmed up?” he asked.
“Is there any other way?” Ty wondered.
Linc microwaved while Ty ran through Mack’s statement she’d given in the emergency department while the grumpy Dr. Ling had examined her X-rays.
“So we’ve got Mick Kersh for a couple of charges relating to the crash, but he wasn’t driving, and without witnesses inside the car, a decent public defender can poke holes in his high-as-a-kite crime scene confession.”
“That’s not enough. That girl isn’t waking up anytime soon. And if she does, she’ll never be back to what she was before she got in that car with him,” Mack said.
“That’s why I’m here. I know that girl and her family. And this isn’t enough for them either. If you’re comfortable pressing charges, we’ve got a Class X felony for assault with injury against a law enforcement officer.”
“Absolutely,” Mack said without hesitation. Linc put a bowl of pie and ice cream garnished with a cookie in front of her.
“Before you commit, the boy’s got family. Family who don’t necessarily care about what really happened or what crimes were committed. His dad, Jethro, has been popped a time or two for drunk and disorderly. A few domestic calls that never went anywhere. His uncle Abner did a nickel for possession and distribution. Both insisted to anyone who’d listen that they were set up.”
“I’m not afraid of retaliation,” she said.
Though Linc noted she put her spoon down when she said it.
“You should be on the lookout too, chief,” Ty said, shifting his attention to Linc. “They’re making noises about you assaulting their boy.”
“I was defending a fellow LEO. No one on-scene will say one shot to the face was excessive use of force in that particular instance. I’d welcome a conversation with the Kershes right about now.”
“I need you both to be aware, be vigilant.”
“But you need me to press charges and testify?” Mack clarified.
“I do.”
She pulled out her phone from the pocket of her shorts. “I had the ED take pictures of my injuries when I went in.” She flipped through her photos, and Linc felt the return of his blood-boiling anger. He wished he would have had the opportunity to do more than knock out a tooth the fucker probably wouldn’t even miss.
Sunshine, sensing his mood, trotted over and leaned into him.
“Where’s my pie, chief?” Ty demanded, business concluded.
23
The clink of the bat brought half the crowd to its feet. Little Anton’s legs were a blur as he careened toward first base. He was the runt of the team, but the kid could hit like a player twice his size.
“Nice single, Anton!” Linc clapped along with the rest of the crowd from the dugout where he and head coach Luke Garrison wrangled the rest of the Benevolence Spider Pigs.
“You’re blocking my view of the plate, coach,” Luke complained to Linc.
“Maybe you should move then, coach,” Linc suggested.
“Maybe you should move,” Luke countered.
“Are you guys fighting again?” Linc’s nephew Brandon asked from his perch on top of the water cooler. “You’re not supposed to fight in front of us, remember?”
“We’re not fighting, Bran,” Linc lied.
“Yeah, we’re practically BFFs,” Luke growled.
Brandon remained unconvinced.
“Would I punch Coach Luke in the arm like this if we were fighting?” Linc asked, socking his frenemy in the bicep harder than necessary.
“Ow. And would I put your uncle in a headlock like this if we were fighting?”
They scuffled until the umpire strolled over. “You boys done causing a spectacle, or do I need to eject you again?” she asked pleasantly.
Linc gave Luke one last shove and beamed at her. “We’re good. Scout’s honor.”
She shook her head in resignation. “Why don’t you find an assistant coach you actually like?” she asked Luke.
“He’s an asshole,” Luke said. “But he knows the game, and he keeps the kids from ganging up on me.”
Linc pretended to wipe away a tear. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, buddy.”
Luke shot him a covert middle finger.
“Opposite ends of the dugout, or I’m telling both your mothers,” the ump ordered before returning to the plate.
Obediently, the coaches retired to their respective spaces, and the game resumed.
While the catcher scrambled after a foul ball, Sunshine perked up from the dugout and ran to the fence.
Linc spotted Mack limping toward the bleachers in sexy workout shorts to accommodate the unwieldy boot and a National Guard hoodie.
She paused to pet Sunshine through the chain link and then looked in his direction. Her sunglasses prevented him from seeing those eyes, that scar. But he felt the warmth of her gaze nonetheless. He jogged over to collect his dog, say hi to his girl.
“Didn’t know you were a fan, Dreamy.”
She held up the loaded hot dog that Sunshine was eyeing pathetically. “I’m a fan of ballpark food and getting the hell out of my house.” Less than forty-eight hours since her injury, and she was already climbing the walls.
“And the assistant coach. Don’t forget that you’re a fan of him, too.” He grinned.
Her lips quirked. “Yeah. He’s okay. Thanks again for dinner last night.”
“You should let me make you breakfast sometime.”
“Yo, coach. Are you gonna pay attention to the game or not?” Luke called.
Dreamy grinned. “Someone’s in trouble,” she sang.
“If you wait for me after the game, I’ll take you for ice cream,” he offered. He didn’t mention that they’d also be taking an entire team of pre-teen baseball players with them.
“Between this injury and you feeding me
, I’m going to lose all fitness.”
“One piece of pie and one little ice cream cone won’t kill you. Besides, you’re welcome to use the gym at my place any time you want. I’ll spot you.”
“Yeah, I bet you will,” she said. “Looks like you’re needed on the field, coach.”
Linc turned and saw a pile of boys between second and third base. He couldn’t tell if they were fighting or celebrating.
He gave her a grin and jogged off toward the melee.
Later in the game, he searched the crowd for her and found her on the first bleacher sitting next to Tyrone’s grandfather. They looked as though they were deep in conversation when a fly ball cleared the fence.
“Yo, Mack!” he called out the warning.
But it was unnecessary.
She snatched it out of the air bare-handed a foot from Leroy Mahoney’s face without bobbling the remains of her hot dog. The grin she sent him when she threw it back was pure sin.
“Do not get any ideas there,” Luke said, appearing beside him to burst his bubble.
“I think we’ve already established that we’re not the kind of buddies who give each other dating advice,” Linc warned him. He was bracing for it. The you’re not good enough for her talk.
“Look, man,” Luke said, surprising Linc with his earnestness. “I know shadows when I see shadows. She’s got shit to work out before she’s relationship material. Don’t get your hopes up.”
Linc was touched. “Wait a second. Hang on. Are you trying to protect my feelings?”
Luke shrugged. “Don’t make this weird. I’m just saying there’s something going on there, and if she doesn’t deal with shit, things will go south fast.”
The man spoke from personal experience. Linc recalled their entertaining and dramatic fight years earlier in the grocery store’s beverage cooler.
Luke had almost lost Harper and had to work hard to earn her back.
“I’m more comfortable with you hating my guts,” Linc admitted.
