Leaning back on my elbows, I stretched my legs between the beds and crossed my ankles. “You’re the Mr. Casanova around here, not me.”
Shaking his head, he chuckled. “If she’s nervous, you need to start small. Do little things to reassure her. Send her flowers to perk up her day, or send her chocolates, even. Just start doing nice little things for her that will catch her attention and help her respect for you grow. It will keep her thinking about you . . . in a good way. It doesn’t have to be elaborate. Sometimes the small things are what women appreciate the most. At least that’s the way it is with Cami.” He smiled. “I can give her an expensive piece of jewelry and she loves it. But she totally freaks if I ever do the dishes for her. Lands me straight in bed. Every. Single. Time.”
“And that’s the only reason you do them, isn’t it?” I grinned and he laughed.
“The only reason.” He shrugged. “A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. That’s my advice to you. If you want her, don’t walk away. Be the guy she can’t live without.”
It was solid advice; and just the thought of doing nice things for her made me feel better. “Thanks, man.”
“Any time,” Dylan replied. “I got your back, bro. Now let’s go make those sandwiches.”
“I didn’t really want one. I was just trying to avoid all the questions.”
“I know you were.” Dylan smiled. “Doesn’t mean you still aren’t going to make me one.”
I laughed. “Becoming a dad sure has made you a pushy guy, you know that?”
His laughter joined mine. “Just trying to practice being tough for the future.”
“You’re gonna need it. Piper’s going to have guys crawling all over her.”
Dylan grunted. “I’d appreciate you rephrasing that comment. I swear if I see one guy within twenty feet of her before she’s thirty, I’m gonna run them off with a shotgun.”
“All I’m saying is you better buy some more guns. I don’t think you have enough.”
Dylan stared at me, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I have two handguns and two rifles. You know that.”
I nodded. “I do. And like I said before, I don’t think you have enough.”
“You aren’t helping my nerves any.”
I squeezed his shoulders and shoved him away as we entered the kitchen. “At least you have a few years to prepare for it. Just keep her close. It’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, I keep you close and you just had sex in my kitchen.”
“Like that kitchen hasn’t seen sex before. There’s not a surface in that house that’s safe from the two of you.”
He grinned. “And apparently they aren’t safe from you either, are they?”
“Touché, bro.” Grabbing the bread out of the cupboard, I set it on the counter. “What stuff do you want on your sandwich?”
“The works. Lay it all on there. I’m starving.”
Several sets of tones crackled through all the radios, piercing the air. “Department One, Engine One and Ambulance Rescue. We have reports of a structure fire at 2201 Penny Drive. Multiple 911 calls state there are children trapped inside.”
“Shit!” Dylan and I both said at the same time, leaving the food where it sat as we ran to the turnout rack. My hands shook with adrenaline as I quickly donned my gear. I hated calls with kids. They plucked at my heartstrings.
As soon as I was ready, I headed toward the truck, the first one to climb aboard so I fired it up. The ambulance bay opened and I watched the unit pull out into the street, lights and sirens wailing. Immediately, the rest of the crew began boarding the vehicle.
Carefully, I eased out the bay door and onto the street, flipping on the lights and siren. Dylan grabbed the chart and the radio.
“Dispatch, Engine One and Ambulance Rescue enroute to structure fire at 2201 Penny Drive. Copy children still in the structure. Rolling Code Three.”
“Roger, Engine One. Enroute time Twenty Fifteen.”
“Dispatch, do you have any more info for us regarding this call?”
It wasn’t far away. I could see orange glow from the flames and the heavy black smoke billowing up. This did not look good.
“Engine One, please switch to secure channel 4.”
“Copy, Dispatch. Switching to channel 4.” There was a slight pause as he clicked the radio over. “Dispatch, this is Engine One on secure channel 4.”
“Roger, Engine One. We are receiving multiple 911 calls on this fire. Police are enroute for crowd control. The information we’ve been given is that one child has escaped the structure, but two children are still missing.”
“Copy, two children possibly inside the structure. Is this confirmed? And do we know the ages of the children we are looking for?”
“Please standby for one moment Engine One.” The line was left open and we could hear the dispatcher speaking with an officer who had just arrived on scene. “Engine One, officer on scene reports the house is nearly fully engulfed at this time. The children missing are ages two and five. They were last seen in their bedrooms inside the structure.”
Damn it to hell! We rounded the corner, the horrific site filling our view. People were running up and down the street screaming hysterically. This was a nightmare!
“Copy, Dispatch. We are on scene. Dropping line now at the corner hydrant.”
“Roger, Engine One. Prayers are with you. On scene time is twenty-twenty.”
“Send me in,” I said to Dylan as I parked the truck.
“Are you sure?” he asked me seriously, taking a quick glance down the street. “The odds aren’t good.”
“I know, but I can’t sit out here waiting, either.”
He only paused for a moment. “Suit up. Camden, you’re going in with him.”
“Yes, sir!” Camden replied.
“The rest of you start attack procedure, now.”
I ripped off my small Velcro nametag and handed it to Dylan. He slipped it under the heading “Interior, search and rescue” on his command board before grabbing the radio.
“Engine One to Dispatch. Please roll Engine Two and Engine Three to this location. Also, put a chopper on standby on the off-chance we have successful retrieval.”
“Roger, Engine One.”
A second set of tones filtered through the radios as the new page went out. Glancing toward the house, I saw Tony and Wayne with hoses rolled out attacking the side door with water, where the fire wasn’t quite as bad, knocking it down even more.
Sliding my self-contained breathing apparatus over my face, I locked gazes with Dylan through the mask.
“Be careful, Russ,” he said, worry evident in his eyes, and I knew he wanted to be inside with me.
“I will be. Save the world.”
“Save the world,” he replied softly, repeating the catch phrase we’d developed between us.
I took off running, full sprint toward the building.
Chapter Twelve
Evie
Staring at my television screen, I was completely mesmerized by the scene developing in front of me. A local camera crew was capturing live footage of a house fire not far from here, and the brave and daring rescue of—not one—but two small children pulled from the burning structure and rushed toward a waiting ambulance. The camera followed the firefighter as he exited the building—both he and the children sprayed with water as he ran toward the ambulance. Waiting paramedics quickly took the children and put them in the ambulance, while the firefighter was pulled to the side where the department had both oxygen and water ready for him.
Ambulance doors closing, the camera crew zeroed in on the hero, trying to catch more of this breaking news story. The firefighter removed his helmet and mask and I briefly saw it was Russ before an officer stepped in front of the camera and ordered them away.
My heart rate escalated by a thousand percent. “Russ!” the words tumbled from my lips and my hand went to my throat. Was he okay? How bad were the children?
The media obviously
was curious about this, too, the reporter shoving a microphone into a police officer’s face. “Officer! Can you tell us the state of the children?”
“The children are being tended to by the best medical care available at this time. They’re being prepared for transport by helicopter to the Center for Burns.”
“So they are burned? Can you tell us how badly?”
“I only know the firefighter who found them said they needed immediate medical attention. I have no further information.”
I thought the man very composed for how pushy the reporter and camera crew were; but like every other person guiltily watching this, I wanted to know what was happening.
“And what about the firefighter who rescued them? Is he okay? We see he is receiving medical attention, as well.”
“The recovering firefighter is Russ Weston. He appears to be okay and is receiving routine care—hydration and oxygen, which is standard after doing an interior search and rescue.”
“Where did he find the children?” The reporter continued to push for more answers.
“I believe they were found in the bedroom they shared.”
“Do they have smoke inhalation?”
The officer gave the camera a look that clearly said, “Come on, really?” But instead, he answered politely. “As I said before, I don’t have all the details. I would imagine there has been a good chance for smoke inhalation considering the current state of the house. That’ll be all the questions for now. If you could please take your crew back behind that barrier so these emergency teams can work, that would be appreciated.”
The field camera was suddenly cut off and the studio news crew instantly reappeared, swiveling away from the screen behind them to face the camera in front of the news desk.
“So, there you have it.” The anchorwoman picked right up. “Obviously a big emotional scene developing out there on Penny Drive, tonight. We’ll stay on it as much as possible and bring you the latest coverage and up-to-date information we have on this story. As of right now, it looks as if this house is a total loss, but the good news is that two young children have been rescued from this horrific blaze. That, in itself, is a miracle!”
“And I didn’t fail to notice the name of the rescuing firefighter, did you?” The extremely good looking anchorman asked radiantly, and immediately confirmed my longstanding suspicions about him.
Yep, he’s gay—another loss of a hot guy for the female population.
“I did.” The co-anchor needed no more encouragement. “It looks like not long after saving renowned Doctor Evelyn McKnight from drowning, Russ Weston has stepped up to the plate again. I’m sure we will be hearing his name everywhere over the next few days as this story unfolds more.”
“Until then, keep tuned right here on Charleston Ten News!”
I clicked off the television and stood, pacing around helplessly in my condo. First, I went to the window, wondering what I thought I could possibly see, since it faced the opposite direction of the fire. Next, I went to my kitchen and got a glass of water, staring aimlessly at the sink as I drank it, my mind running constantly over every memory I had of Russ.
The idea that he’d jumped into a lake after me, and he’d rushed into a burning building, and even the fact that he’d tried to sacrifice himself to save Cami, spoke loads about his character. At least it did to me. True, he was trained to do these things, but it still seemed very heroic to me.
I’ve had spontaneous sex with this guy. The thought appeared unbidden, making me groan. And how had I treated him? I’d ignored him for three days. So, maybe he wasn’t perfect—I certainly wasn’t either, but would it really be that bad to get to know him better?
You haven’t thought of Kory since Russ left your office today. This realization made tears leak slowly down my face. Moving quietly through my house, I made my way to the nightstand. Lifting his picture, I stroked a finger lightly over his features.
“I love you, Kory,” I whispered. “I miss you so much.” Lying back on my bed, I held the picture against my chest, hugging it, as I wanted to hug him. “I think I’m starting to forget things about you,” I added, continuing my lonely discussion. “I don’t want that, but I don’t know how to stop it.”
Lifting the image, I lovingly touched it, again. “Would you hate me if I fell in love with someone else? I promised I’d never move on after you.”
There was no reply, just as I knew there wouldn’t be. But I would’ve given anything to hear him.
***
“Hero Firefighter at it again! Saves Two Children From Burning Structure!” The headline of the morning paper was practically screaming at me along with an image of Russ running from the blazing building with a child in each arm.
Quickly, my eyes scanned over the article.
Hero firefighter, Russ Weston, still remains elusive this morning after rescuing two children, ages two and five, from their burning home on Penny Drive last night. When trying to contact the station for a phone interview with Mr. Weston, the press was given a statement from Fire Chief Daniels, saying, “Mr. Weston is grateful for his opportunity to serve the community and we are lucky to have him as part of the many men and women who serve and protect this city. In order to show respect for his colleagues, who also put their lives on the line every day, Mr. Weston would like you to please refrain from asking him for interviews. Thank you.”
A similar statement was made by firefighter Weston just a short time ago, after he rescued Doctor Evelyn McKnight from a near drowning. He was adamant then about not speaking with the press, either.
The children, whose names and gender have not been released because they are minors, are currently hospitalized at the Center for Burns, where they are both listed in stable condition. The hospital has released a statement saying they are “both being treated for second degree burns around their hands, feet, and knees, as well as for smoke inhalation; but they are in good spirits and surrounded by the rest of their family.”
A fund has been set up at South National Bank for the Trent family. Donations may be made by calling the following number, donating online, or going into the bank.”
Releasing my grip on the paper, I folded it and tucked it under my arm, carrying it back into the house with me and setting it on the counter while I made myself some coffee.
My eyes kept straying toward the image of Russ holding those two kids. Suddenly, I had the urge to throw my arms around him and hug him as tight as I could. Walking into my room, I glanced at my phone, still sitting where I’d left it charging on the nightstand.
I did have his number. I could text him and make sure he was okay, couldn’t I?
Just as quickly as I got the idea, I dismissed it. I couldn’t be giving him false hope, especially not after our previous conversation. It would come off as being inconsistent—or worse, like I liked him simply for his heroics.
No, it was definitely better not to call. The paper had said he was okay. That was good enough for me. As long as he was safe, I could be happy.
Rolling my eyes, I didn’t even want to analyze what that statement might mean. “I’m happy regardless of what Russ Weston is doing,” I said out loud, managing to make myself feel like an even bigger idiot.
Setting my coffee down, I went and got in the shower before deciding I was going completely crazy and in need of therapy myself.
***
“What is this?” I asked, my confusion completely apparent as I halted in the doorway to my office.
“You got a special delivery this morning,” Misty said, smiling widely. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”
“Who are they from?” I asked, still refusing to step into the room as I stared at the giant bouquet with roses of every color, artfully arranged. It was easily three dozen, at least.
“I don’t know. I didn’t read the card. It was addressed to you.”
“There’s a card?”
“Yep. It’s on the side facing your desk chair.”
Glancing briefly back
at Misty, I could tell she was as anxious as I was to find out what this card said. “That’ll be all, Misty. Thank you.” I didn’t wait to see her disappointment, instead slipping inside my office and closing the door behind me.
Slowly, I approached my desk—and the arrangement for that matter—with the same stealth one might have when sneaking up on a bomb.
Not that I’d ever actually snuck up on a bomb.
Or knew anyone who had.
But they totally did it this way on TV.
Skirting around the side of my desk, I set my briefcase down and reached for the tiny envelope with my name on it, which was supported in the arrangement by a plastic prong. I plucked it out, opened it and drew out the small rectangular floral card inside.
Thought these might brighten your day.
It was clearly scrawled out in a man’s handwriting, but there was no name. Flipping the card over, I checked for a signature on that side, too, but it was bare, as well.
I pressed the intercom. “Misty, did these come with an invoice?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied.
“Does it say who the sender is?”
“No, ma’am. It didn’t.” I really hated when she called me ma’am. It made me feel so old.
“The card is unsigned.”
“Would you like me to call the florist and see if they will tell me who sent them?”
“No. That’s not necessary. I’m pretty sure I know who they’re from.” I clicked off the intercom before she could reply, bending to smell the beautiful flowers. Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes, allowing the fragrance to wash over my senses.
I couldn’t deny it. I was pleased and definitely wanted them to be from Russ. But since he didn’t sign the note, I wasn’t going to go hunting for the answer. If he wanted me to reply, then he needed to leave his name.
Russ Weston, what are you up to? I thought. I was ninety-nine percent sure it was him who sent the roses. It made me wonder when he’d ordered them. This morning? Surely he was too tired after their big fire last night. It must’ve been after he left my office, but wouldn’t the florist have been closed by then? Sighing heavily, I realized I was allowing this to occupy way too much of my time.
Smolder Page 9
