by Amy Vastine
“I’m impressed by this, honestly,” she said. Emma had grown up in a house where her father made pancakes for the girls every Sunday. The first batch was always a mess and every pancake was usually burned on at least one side.
“But enough about me. Let’s talk about you,” Charlie said.
“Aren’t we here to talk about Max and Kendall’s wedding?” The point of this meeting was making less and less sense as it went on. She had let him distract her from their reason for getting together.
“Yes. Let’s talk about the wedding. Are you bringing a date?”
“What does that have to do with the wedding plans?”
Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I wasn’t sure if the maid of honor and best man should bring dates or not. I was thinking of coming alone so I don’t shirk any of my responsibilities.”
She was beginning to believe he had no ideas. That this whole meeting was a setup so he could report back to Max. “Well, I do plan on bringing a date, and I will still make sure everything goes off without a hitch. Max has nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, yeah. I mean...” He shook his head. “I wasn’t implying you wouldn’t be able to help. Max isn’t worried, either.” Charlie’s face fell. “So you’re bringing your boyfriend or something, huh?”
Emma blew out a frustrated breath. “I thought you said you had some ideas for this wedding. Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“It is. I do,” Charlie insisted, finally dropping the Twenty Questions. “I was thinking about the boys.”
“The boys?”
“Simon and Aidan. It would be nice if we found a way to include them in the ceremony. My oldest sister did this thing at her wedding. It was a second marriage for both her and my brother-in-law and they both had kids from their previous relationships. So, instead of lighting a unity candle, they had the kids come up and they all filled this vase with different-colored sand. It symbolized the blending of the two families into one. The boys would like that, don’t you think?”
That was actually a really good idea. So good, Emma couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it herself. She’d totally forgotten about incorporating the boys into the ceremony aside from having them be ring bearers. She wrote down the sand-art idea in her notebook.
“I love that. They love those kids more than anything.”
Charlie seemed to sigh with relief. “I’m glad you like it. I thought since Max had them help propose, it was something to consider.”
“Did your sister do anything else? Maybe at the reception?”
“I don’t remember. I can ask her. I’m sure she’s got some other tips.”
“All right, sounds good.” She closed up her notebook and slipped it and her wedding binder into her giant tote bag. She planned to sneak over to her parents’ so her mom would invite her to stay for dinner. For Emma, there was nothing worse about being single than having to cook for one. “I think we’re done here. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Wait,” he said as she began to slide out of the booth. “We’re done?”
Emma laughed. What more could they possibly talk about? How much he liked every idea she had? How excellent she was at picking out the perfect colors for a summer wedding? Maybe he could tell her one more time that she should be getting paid for this. Or perhaps he’d start in on the personal questions again.
“You agreed with everything I had to say,” she told him. “You made this meeting super easy and fast. Now we have the rest of the day to ourselves. Good work.”
He didn’t seem so excited about it. “Yeah, great job, Charlie,” he muttered.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE FIREHOUSE DINING ROOM had two banquet-size tables butted up against one another to make enough room for all the hungry firefighters and paramedics on duty. Charlie and a bunch of the guys from the house were hanging out, reading the paper and making small talk.
The station’s rookie/probie was bending Lieutenant Kyle Keller’s ear about his most recent date. “I just don’t get it. I thought we had a great time, but she hasn’t returned my calls or answered any of my texts.”
“Something tells me your definition of a great time and a woman’s definition of a great time are two very different things.”
A few guys at the table laughed. One of the other firefighters joined in. “Jones thinks dinner at a burger joint and a couple hours at an arcade is a great night.”
“Be quiet, Alvarez. Arcades can be a ton of fun,” Jones argued as the entire room erupted in laughter.
Lieutenant Keller shook his head. “I hate to break it to you, Jones, but there may be plenty of first dates in your future but absolutely zero second ones.”
Probies were usually on the receiving end of a lot of teasing, but Jones had a way of saying and doing things that made him the biggest target of all. He looked to Serena, the only female at Station 22. “Hayes, you’re a woman. Help me out here.”
“Why do I think I’m going to regret this?” she grumbled from behind the Chicago Tribune.
“You’d have fun at an arcade, wouldn’t you?”
She peered over her newspaper at him. “Did you really take some poor girl to the arcade? What was she, ten years old?”
“Come on! It was a fun date!”
Charlie chuckled. Even he knew better than to take a woman to the arcade on a first date. He also had success getting many second dates. What he didn’t know was how to become more than just a date.
Emma was bringing a date to the wedding. The disappointment this created in Charlie weighed down his usually buoyant mood even now, days later. He tried to focus on the positives: she had liked his idea for the wedding and there had been no confirmation of a boyfriend, only a date.
There was still hope.
Charlie didn’t simply want to date Emma. He wanted to be that someone who made her lose track of time, the guy she’d want to spend the day with no matter what her other plans were. That meant he needed to be interesting instead of some boring pushover who had basically complimented her right out the door.
“I’d love to know what women want,” he said aloud unintentionally.
More than a few heads swung in Charlie’s direction.
“Fletcher needs dating advice?” Jones asked. “Since when?”
Pete O’Reilly, the shift’s cook, set a plate of brownies on the table that were snatched up in a matter of seconds. He was happily married to a gorgeous woman, who he claimed was an even better cook than he was. In fact, the two of them ran a catering business together when he wasn’t cooking for this motley crew. The O’Reillys had three adorable kids and somehow managed to keep the romance alive after fifteen years of marriage. Everyone—except Alvarez, the eternal bachelor—wanted to be as lucky as O’Reilly someday.
“Who you got your eye on?” Pete asked Charlie while everyone else was busy devouring their dessert. “Is it that blonde you were talking to at Duke’s last week?”
“I bet he’s planning to make a move on that new paramedic at 55,” another firefighter guessed. A discussion erupted over how distracting her good looks had been at the softball game last week.
Serena folded her paper up and set it on the table. “My money’s on a tall brunette who works at Saint Joe’s.”
The room fell silent and Charlie’s jaw dropped. “How did you know that?”
Serena rolled her eyes. “If you had seen yourself the other day, you would not be asking me that question. I had never witnessed a tongue-tied Charlie Fletcher before then. It was very entertaining.”
No one could believe it. If there was one thing everyone knew about Charlie, it was that he could talk to anyone. He made friends with people who were just walking down the same street. That was who Charlie was. He was everyone’s friend. Didn’t matter if you were eight or eighty, a drop-dead gorgeous
waitress or a wrinkly old retiree. Charlie would talk your ear off.
“Fletcher at a loss for words? I would’ve loved to have seen that,” Alvarez said.
Everyone wanted to know who this tall brunette was. They began badgering Serena for her name and any other details she could remember. Luckily for Charlie, Serena wasn’t a gossip. She wouldn’t say anything.
“Come on, give us something!” Jones pleaded.
“She’s a nurse in the ER and that’s all you guys are getting,” Charlie said. “I tell you a name and the next thing I know, she’ll be getting provocative gifts sent to Saint Joe’s claiming to be from me.”
“You know us so well,” Alvarez admitted.
O’Reilly waved his hand dismissively. “Sounds like you’ve got nothing to worry about, Charlie. The nurses over at Saint Joe’s love you.”
“Like Fletcher ever has problems getting a date,” Jones said with a hint of jealousy. “Women think he’s so funny.”
“Aw, don’t feel bad, Jones,” Alvarez consoled him. “Women think you’re funny, too. I mean, they’re laughing at you, but they sure think you’re hilarious.”
Jones stood up and puffed out his chest, challenging Alvarez to “bring it.” Alvarez rose to his feet, ready to do just that. The lieutenant barked at them both to sit down and knock it off. They both did as they were told, but Charlie saw Jones mouth that this wasn’t over.
Charlie had learned over the years that firefighters were no different than brothers. They teased one another relentlessly but would lay down their lives for each other without a second thought.
The alarm sounded, effectively putting an end to fun time. Everyone scattered to gear up. Charlie got the information from dispatch regarding the nature of the call and location. Serena made sure the ambulance was properly loaded and jumped into the driver’s seat.
“So, what’s up with you and this nurse?”
Charlie belted himself in. “Emma’s my buddy’s soon-to-be sister-in-law. I have a little crush, but I think she’s already spoken for.”
“Married?”
“No, but she plans to bring a date to the wedding.”
“Well, then, unless they’re engaged, she’s still up for grabs. A nice guy like you shouldn’t have much trouble convincing her to give you a shot.”
“I don’t know about that. The last two women I dated broke up with me because I’m supposedly too nice. Then there were the ones who didn’t want to settle down with a guy who didn’t aspire to be more than, and I quote, ‘an ambulance driver.’”
Serena made a sharp left as she followed the fire truck in the lead. There was nothing she hated more than being called an ambulance driver. As if riding in an ambulance was akin to taking a taxi. “Who said that? That teacher you were dating?”
“That’s the one.”
“Don’t you listen to a word that woman had to say. She was all wrong for you. I could have told you that after ten minutes of talking to her. She also shouldn’t work in a school. She hates children. She shouldn’t settle down with anyone.”
Charlie couldn’t argue with Serena’s impression of Jenny, the fifth-grade teacher he’d dated for over two months. She was cute and funny, but not the most compassionate soul he’d ever met.
“Emma’s not like Jenny. I think she falls more in the first category—unimpressed with nice guys. We’re helping plan the wedding for her sister and my friend. I tried to be agreeable about everything, but somehow that didn’t seem to win her over. I got the sense she didn’t find my cooperativeness very interesting.”
“Your cooperativeness?” Serena laughed. “Oh, Charlie. You can’t agree with everything the woman says.”
“What is wrong with agreeing with a woman? Don’t women love to be right? You love being right. Wouldn’t you like it if a guy told you that you were?”
“I like being right, but where’s the fun in it if the guy never tries being wrong?”
Charlie wasn’t following.
“Most women like a challenge, partner. They want to be right, but only after they’ve had to fight for it a little bit. What’s the point of being right if no one disagrees with you? How do you gloat if the guy was on the same page all along?”
Now he saw her point. “So you’re saying arguing is a turn-on?”
“I’m saying no one wants a guy who has no opinion. Be a nice man, but be a man.”
She’d given him a lot to think about. He’d have to ponder it all later, though. They pulled up to their destination, an older home on a street that was filled with an equal mix of rebuilds and soon-to-be teardowns. Flashy million-dollar condos stood next to run-down single-family homes that were in desperate need of a new coat of paint. This one could use some work, but the owner obviously cared about appearances. There were several flower boxes of vibrant red-and-purple petunias hanging from the front porch.
Several people had congregated outside the house, standing on the sidewalk and gawking at the smoke billowing out a back window. A young man sat on the curb next to an older woman who was rubbing his back as he rocked with eyes closed and his hands over his ears. The call was to put out a reported kitchen fire. The firefighters went in to check it out while Charlie and Serena planned to attend to any residents who had been inside.
The woman on the curb jumped up as they approached, explaining that her autistic son had been making lunch when something caught fire. The smoke alarm had frightened the teenager and he’d become agitated. She’d struggled to get him out of the house, which had allowed the fire to spread out of her control. She was worried about the amount of smoke they had inhaled.
“What’s his name, ma’am?” Charlie asked as Serena checked the woman’s pulse and monitored her breathing.
“Brian,” she replied. Her voice trembled and her hands shook. “I don’t know how to help him when he gets like this. It’s so hard to help him.”
“We’re here to help you both,” Charlie said to reassure her. He approached Brian slowly. “Hi, Brian. My name’s Charlie.”
Brian didn’t respond. His hands stayed clamped over his ears. The blaring sirens probably hadn’t helped his state of mind any. Charlie crouched down so they were eye level and attempted to gauge the young man’s condition without touching him. He was wheezing a little bit, but there didn’t seem to be anything obstructing his airway.
“I know all this is pretty overwhelming, but I heard you were in the kitchen with all that smoke. I’m going to check your pulse, so I have to touch you on the wrist. Okay?”
Again, there was no answer from the boy, but his mom nodded her head when Charlie looked to her for permission. Cautiously, Charlie reached for Brian’s hand. Serena opened the blood pressure cuff at the same time, the sound of Velcro separating startling Brian. He reacted violently, kicking his legs and flailing his arms. Charlie took a strong left hook to the jaw.
“Leave me alone!” Brian cried before coughing uncontrollably.
Serena came over to help. Her voice was quiet but firm. “Brian, we’re paramedics here to help you. You inhaled some smoke. I need you to calm down.”
Charlie could taste the blood in his mouth. His teeth had bitten into his cheek and his jaw was throbbing. Brian’s mom tried to bring him under control, but he would not be subdued. Charlie gathered his wits and went to his bag for a sedative. For the safety of everyone involved, they had no option but to give Brian a shot. Within seconds, the teen was docile and his eyelids heavy.
“I’m so sorry,” his mom said over and over. “He’s not a violent person. He’s a sweet boy.”
Charlie assured her he was unhurt and that she didn’t have to apologize. Now that the boy was relaxed, they could move Brian to a stretcher and give him some oxygen.
“That was some hit. You sure you’re okay?” Serena asked Charlie, taking a look in his mouth to
assess the damage.
“I’m fine.”
Serena touched his tender jaw then tried to get a second glance inside her partner’s mouth, but he lifted his chin so she couldn’t see anything but his neck.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “We should bring them both in.”
As they loaded mother and son into the ambulance, Charlie focused on the potential of seeing Emma at the hospital. It was the only bright spot in a less-than-stellar day.
* * *
AT THE HOSPITAL, the triage nurse got Brian and his mom settled in. Charlie stood at the nurses’ station, icing his jaw while Serena helped him fill out the paperwork to document his injury. He should have known better than to approach Brian when the boy was under that much duress.
“I heard not even Mike Tyson could have taken that kid,” a voice said from behind.
Charlie turned to find his Nightingale standing there in her navy scrubs. Her hair was down but pinned up in the front. Her cheeks and lips were a rosy red, and even though she’d probably been on her feet for several hours, she looked incredible.
“I’m a lover not a fighter. I didn’t stand a chance.” It sort of hurt to smile, but he did it, anyway. The smile she gave him back was worth all the pain.
“Ah, you’re a pacifist. Good to know. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Serena clearly couldn’t stop herself from butting in. “He keeps saying that, but he didn’t see the kid’s fist hit his face.”
“No, but I felt it. I think I should know if I’m fine or not,” he said defensively. Serena had told him to act like a man, but she was making it next to impossible. Charlie didn’t mind when people called him a gentle giant, but he didn’t want to look as if he couldn’t take a hit.
“Do you want me to check you out real quick? Make sure you don’t need any stitches or anything?” Emma offered. “That’s quite a bruise you’ve got already.” Her hand reached up and gently caressed his aching jaw. Her touch soothed better than the world’s greatest balm.
“Maybe you should take a look,” he relented, opting to take advantage of every second he could get with her.
