Four Weddings and a Fireman

by Jennifer Bernard

  He must be considering the idea; her stomach filled with butterflies. “We can talk about that part later. It’d be good for Trixie. She needs something to do besides going online and inventing crazy outfits. But before you say yes, there’s one thing I should tell you first.”

  She searched his face, but couldn’t tell how he was reacting. When Vader chose, he could be very hard to read.

  She forged ahead. “I can’t explain everything, but there’s a man with a grudge against us. We don’t think he knows where we are. At first I was afraid he’d followed Trixie, but we haven’t seen him. I think we’re safe. And I doubt he’d bother your mother. But I thought you should know before you decide.”

  Gripping her hands tightly together, she waited, holding her breath. She’d struggled with how much to tell Vader without breaking her promise to Jacob. But she couldn’t allow him to move his mother in without giving him some warning.

  “This man is dangerous?” Vader asked, his face like stone.

  “He’s . . . unpredictable. Mean. But he hasn’t left Arkansas in twenty years.”

  “If you were in danger, you should have told me.”

  Her temper flared. “And maybe you should have told me you’re taking care of your disabled mother.”

  At an impasse, they stared at each other. He acknowledged her point with a dip of his head. “I’m starting to see that. I didn’t know how people would take it. Guess I should have been a little more trusting.”

  The accusation hung in the air; she should be more trusting too. If only she could. If only he knew what a huge step this was for her.

  Then again, maybe he did. His expression shifted, softening. “It’s a nice offer, Cherie. I appreciate the thought. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Are you worried about us? You and me?”

  His gaze flicked down her body, rendering her instantly aware of herself in a way only he could accomplish. “Why would I be worried?”

  “You don’t have to worry. You know how busy I am. And with your shifts, we’d probably hardly see each other.”

  Not that she wanted that. Or maybe she did. These days, she was so confused she couldn’t make heads or tails of her feelings. The only certainty was that she cared about Vader. No, it was more than that; she wanted to take care of him. He’d never needed her before, but now he did. Every particle of her being wanted to help him.

  “Come to think of it, I am a little worried,” he said, dropping his voice to an intimate husky murmur.

  She was standing with her back to one of the fire engines, the polished steel brushing against her. He leaned in closer, putting a hand on either side of her head. She took in a big gulp of diesel and Vader-scented air. It was utterly, intoxicatingly male. “You might sneak into my bedroom at night and take advantage of me.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Couldn’t blame you. I’m a hard man to resist.”

  She cleared her throat, which had gone dry. He was making a joke out of it, Vader-style, but the nearness of his muscled frame had its usual effect. Light-headedness up above, restless pulsing down below. And a whole lot of shivering in between. “We’ll just make a pact to stay away from anything like that. With my sister and your mother in the house, it shouldn’t be hard.”

  “You might be underestimating the temptation.” He deepened his voice to a low growl. The raspy sound scraped across her nerve endings and made her nipples rise. She put her hands on his chest, intending to push him away, but the second she touched those hard muscles, she was lost. Her fingers lingered, then spread across his broad rib cage. She felt the steady thump of his heart, the heat radiating from him.

  “I’m sure we can handle it.” Even to her ears, that statement held all the conviction of a kleptomaniac vowing not to shoplift. “We’re adults.”

  “Oh yeah.” His voice seemed to come from the pit of his stomach, from a place of molten heat. He leaned closer, dipping his forehead to rest against hers. “Consenting adults.” Then he was touching her, shaping her body—the slope of her waist, the curve of her hips.

  She let out an involuntary gasp of pleasure. “Stop that. This is your job. Your firehouse . . .”

  Her words trailed away as he pressed his big thumbs against her hipbones, making her pelvis tilt forward. Pleasure streaked in knee-weakening flickers across her body. Merciful heavens, she had no self-control when it came to him. If he wanted to take her right now, against the side of a fire engine, she wouldn’t say no.

  The husky sound of his breathing penetrated her awareness. The desire it held echoed her own, and amplified it even further. Her eyes closed halfway, like a satisfied cat’s, and a sense of luxurious anticipation took hold. Her body, held securely between Vader’s strong frame and the cool steel of the engine, hummed with arousal.

  Then his lips touched hers, just a whisper of a brush, firmness against softness. A sigh passed between them, slipping from one to the other, she wasn’t sure which. Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted, giving him the welcome her soul demanded. He cupped her face, tilting it toward his mouth. He claimed his kiss like a king, like an emperor, as if he had absolute divine right to worship her, to possess her. His tongue swept through her mouth, chased by ripples of excitement dancing in its wake like drunken revelers.

  The intoxicating taste of him went right to her head, straight to her sex. She kissed him back with naked hunger, baring all the sensual need that had been building since their last time together. They clung to each other, ravished by the heat that flared so quickly between them.

  Then he stepped back, his chest heaving with harsh pants, his muscles jumping from the effort of ending the kiss. From inside the firehouse, she heard someone shouting about a ladder. For the space of one kiss, she’d completely forgotten where she was.

  “Oh yeah,” said Vader. “We’ll have no problem living in the same house together.”

  She stared at him helplessly, knowing her arousal was written all over her face, in her darkened pupils and flushed cheeks. “Is that a no?” she managed.

  “No. That’s a yes. A yes, thank you. On one condition.”

  Her cheeks got even hotter. Her susceptibility to Vader was already off the charts. When he got into his dominant, demanding mode, she had absolutely no resistance. “What condition?”

  “We’ll talk about it later. I should get back to work. You’d never know I was trying to make captain.” With a deep breath, he took another step back.

  Risking a quick glance at his trousers, she caught the huge bulge. He was absolutely right. If they couldn’t keep their hands off each other at his workplace, how would they stand a chance at home?

  “I have a condition too. No sex while your mother’s in the house.”

  “Unless you beg me.” He winked.

  She put her hands to her flushed cheeks. “I’ll try to remember not to beg. So what’s your condition? Tell me now, so we can settle this.”

  “My condition is easy. One night with you in your bedroom. That’s it.”

  “But no sex?”

  “Unless you beg.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. That innocent expression meant trouble. He had something up his sleeve, but she couldn’t begin to guess what it was. As long as he agreed to the rule against sex, she couldn’t imagine they’d have a problem.

  “Agreed.” She stuck out her hand to shake on it, but he hesitated, his playfulness gone for the moment.

  “Also, I have to talk it over with my mother. I’m not sure she’s going to agree.”

  “Why not?”

  He gave an uneasy shrug. “She’s been through a lot. I need to be sure she’s comfortable with whatever I decide. I’ll let you know tonight, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “And Cherie.” He caught her hand and lifted it to his mouth. “Thank you. You’re a true sweetheart.”

  “You’re welcome.” The sensation of his warm mouth on her palm made her giddy. Scolding herself for being a sex-crazed idiot, she pulled her hand away and wa
ved good-bye. She was picking her way across the diesel-spotted concrete when she remembered the other part of her errand. “Vader,” she called.

  He was already halfway through the door that led into the firehouse. “Yeah?”

  “I nearly forgot to ask you. Do you have a cat?”

  He spun around and strode across the apparatus bay in about three longs steps. “Yeah. But I haven’t seen him since the fire. Why?”

  “Is he big and orange?”

  Those brown eyes lit up with a joy that made her heart skip several beats. “Yes. That sounds like Izzy. Did you see him at the house?”

  “No, but after I left the hospital I drove that red truck to my house to check on Trixie because she wasn’t answering the phone. Then I took it back here to the firehouse and one of the firemen brought me home. The next morning I saw this orange cat hiding under the bougainvillea. I put out a dish of milk, but then I had to go to work. When I came back the milk was gone. Same thing with a can of tuna. I couldn’t figure out where he came from, but then I remembered the truck, and thought maybe he was hiding in it during the fire, then hopped out at my house. Cats can be pretty smart.” She grabbed his hand. “Are you okay?”

  He was blinking rapidly, as if trying to bat away tears. “My mother loves that cat like nobody’s business. If she knows he’s alive . . . He’s alive, right?”

  “Oh yes. He was shy at first, but he got over that pretty quick. He runs right up to the food dish now, but he still won’t let me get close enough to check his collar.”

  Vader squeezed her hand tightly. He seemed rooted to the floor, afraid to release her.

  “Really, Vader, he’s fine.” She curved her other hand around his cheek and felt his jaw muscle jerk. “Cats are survivors. He probably has at least seven lives left. Do you want to come and see him? You want to make sure it’s him? Oh, wait! Where is my brain today?”

  She dug in her pocket for her cell phone and scanned through her photos. There it was, the big orange cat crouched over a dish of tuna. Vader grabbed the phone and enlarged the picture.

  “That’s definitely Izzy.” He caught her up and swung her in a wide circle. Breathless with surprise, she gripped his forearms, clinging to their corded strength as she flew through the air. Like a pro, he landed her safely on her feet, then steadied her. “Thank you so much, Cherie. You have no idea what this is going to mean to my mom. I want to go tell her right this minute. But I have a whole shift to go.”

  “I’ll take good care of him until then. Don’t worry. He’ll still be there. He’s definitely adopted us.”

  “As my mother would say, ‘Bless you, hon.’ I’ll call you tomorrow after I talk to her.”

  The news of Izzy’s survival perked his mother up tremendously. She finally spoke, telling the nurse that her cat was so smart he’d recognized a fire department vehicle and hitched himself a ride to safety. She was so thrilled that she easily accepted the news that they were going to be staying at Cherie’s house for a while.

  “If Izzy trusts her, then I guess I can give her a chance,” she said, her voice still raw from smoke. She poked at the plastic-wrapped dinner the nurse had left on the retractable tray. “Is her house wheelchair accessible?”

  “We’ll have the first floor. There’s a nice backyard with only two steps down. I can rig up a ramp for you.”

  “This is what you want?”

  “Yeah.” He wanted it for several reasons. Being around Trixie might cheer his mother up and give her something to do. Also, if some crazy dude from Arkansas chased down Cherie and Trixie, he wanted to be manning the barricades. But most of all, he couldn’t resist the chance to be so close to Cherie. Her barriers were starting to come down, he just knew it. If he was living in her house, he gave himself pretty good odds of kicking them down once and for all.

  He decided to focus on the Trixie factor. “Cherie needs help with her little sister. I told you about her. She’s a handful.”

  Ginny loved nothing more than being of use to someone. “She won’t be a handful for me, hon. I have my secret weapon. My wheelchair. She won’t know what hit her.”

  “You can’t hit her with your wheelchair, Mom. Rules of the house.”

  She gave him a playful slap on the arm. “You’re deliberately misunderstanding me, Vader. You know I’d never do a crazy thing like that, unless it was an accident, or Izzy got in the way.”

  “You can’t blame it on Izzy either. I’m on to you.”

  When she giggled, the world settled back in its proper orbit. His mother was going to be fine.

  A frown settled over her exhausted face as she fiddled with a container of chocolate pudding. “I wonder what went wrong?”

  “You mean with the fire? I’ve been meaning to ask you what happened.”

  “Not the fire. Well, yes, the fire. But the feng shui ritual.”

  “The what?”

  “I know you’ll think I’m silly, but I was summoning true love, which requires plenty of red candles. I put them a little too close to my Casablanca poster. It caught on fire while I was chanting a love prayer, and by the time I realized it, I couldn’t do a thing. It spread so fast.” She began tearing at the napkin on her dinner tray.

  “It’s okay, Mom. Calm down. These things happen. I’ve seen it a zillion times.”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” She dismissed the fire with a careless wave. “But what went wrong with the feng shui? I was trying to get you unstuck from Cherie. And now we’re going to be living in her house! That doesn’t make any sense. Unless . . .” Her face cleared.

  “Unless what?”

  “Living so close to her will finally open your eyes. You’ll find out she’s not the one for you. Just you wait and see.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Ginny finally met Cherie, on the day Vader drove her to Gardam Street in the blue Suburban, the encounter went much better than Vader had feared. His mother took Cherie’s hand in both of hers, called her “hon,” and thanked her profusely. She showed off her bubbly chatterbox side, even though she still sounded as if she’d smoked a carton of cigarettes.

  Cherie presented her with a welcome gift of lemon bars, which Vader had said were her favorites. Ginny took one taste, and proclaimed them the best she’d ever tried.

  “Thanks for being so nice,” whispered Vader as he wheeled her into her new bedroom. “You just earned yourself a box of mini-donuts.”

  She spun the chair in a circle, surveying her new domain. “I can afford to be nice. I still don’t believe she’ll last.”

  “I take it all back,” Vader grumbled.

  Cherie knocked on the doorjamb. “How does everything look? Do you like the table?”

  She’d offered up an old drafting table she’d found at a flea market. By some miracle, Ginny’s computer had survived and now sat on top of it, plugged in and ready for action.

  “Everything looks wonderful,” said Ginny. Vader could tell she was itching to get online and check her forums. When Izzy trotted into the room and jumped into her lap, things couldn’t have been more perfect.

  Although the house was workable as it was, Vader decided to make a few alterations for his mother. He bought the materials for a ramp to the backyard, a ramp onto the front porch, and safety bars installed in the shower and by the toilet. A couple of the guys from the firehouse—Fred and, surprisingly, Mulligan—showed up to help him with the construction.

  While they cut the boards for the ramps, Trixie outdid herself bringing them snacks and homemade cookies. Every delivery seemed to come with a different outfit.

  “Was she wearing that miniskirt last time she came in here?” Fred asked through a mouthful of shortbread.

  “That’s what they call a microskirt,” said Mulligan. “They’re getting shorter. Next they’ll make a nanoskirt and no man will be safe.”

  At the table saw, Vader used the back of his hand to wipe sweat off his forehead. “Nanoskirt? Where’d you come up with that?”

  “Science. Hea
rd of it? I have a degree in it.”

  “Rings a bell. Like scientifically formulated energy drinks?” Vader winked at Fred. He loved tweaking his muscleman reputation.

  Trixie reappeared with another platter, this one loaded with roast beef sandwiches. “Red meat for you red-blooded American guys,” she said, flirtation dripping from every pore.

  Fred dropped his nail gun and bounded to her side. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  Trixie batted her eyelashes, revealing bright turquoise eye shadow. “Thanks, hot stuff. You know, you should really take those gloves off when you eat. At least the left one. Unless there’s a ring on it. Then you don’t have to bother. Do you have a ring under there?”

  “What?” Fred looked thoroughly confused, as any normal man would be.

  Vader rolled his eyes. Trixie must still be husband hunting. He should have warned the other guys. Or made them all wear fake rings.

  Ginny appeared at the doorway. “Oh Trixie, Izzy’s stuck under that old curio cabinet. Would you mind helping me get him out, hon? You’re such a darling, helping out an old crippled lady like me.”

  Vader nearly choked on his roast beef.

  “Wow,” said Fred, gazing at Trixie with reverence. “You are something special. Not only do you make killer roast beef, but you help out ladies in wheelchairs.”

  Trixie’s kitten face lit up, and she practically danced into the house to help Ginny. Vader watched her go, realizing he’d just gotten a taste of life on Gardam Street, and it wasn’t half bad. Ginny already had Trixie’s number. He had a feeling they were going to be perfect for each other.

  “Freddy, that girl is pure trouble,” said Vader, feeling duty-bound to warn his fellow fireman. Then he caught Fred’s wink. “Wait. You did that on purpose?”

  “Redirection and positive reinforcement. Works great with kids.”

  Vader clapped him on the shoulder. He should have known Fred would get it. The more he hung out with the guy, the more he respected him.

  “So how’s the captain thing going?” asked Mulligan. “You schedule the exam yet?”

  Vader adjusted the bandanna keeping the sweat off his face and bent over the table saw. “Next week. But I think I might have blown my chances. Fuck-up city every time I turn around. Brody asked if I wanted to back off some of my work commitments considering what I have on my plate right now. I told him no way. I need the promotion now more than ever.”