“No, that’s okay. You’re already late. I can walk. I don’t have to be there for an hour. I have a split shift, from one o’clock to five o’clock and then eight o’clock to midnight.”
“That stinks. What do you do there? Are you a cook?”
“No.” Mia looked embarrassed. “I—wash dishes.”
“No kidding? I worked in a restaurant kitchen while I went to college. It’s a tough job.”
She looked over at him and grinned, putting a bare foot on the dashboard. “Coming from a guy who jumps into burning buildings? You think working in a restaurant is a ‘tough job’?”
He loved to see her smile. Her dark eyes sparkled in the reflected sunlight. “Sometimes it is. Don’t give me lip.” Cy didn’t think he’d live to see the day where she would actually kid around with him. “At a restaurant, it’s usually a breakneck pace. There are days at the station we think we’ll die of boredom. If we have to play one more game of cribbage or Spades with Mario, I’ll croak. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like we want fires to start.”
“I know how you feel.”
He hadn’t meant it to come out like that. He watched her run slim fingers over her ankle and then up the dark skin of her calf. Reaching for the water bottle shoved between the crease in the seat, he swallowed, wishing it was his fingers on her leg.
“Do you work certain shifts at the station? Is that why you’re late?”
“Yes. But the main reason is that I’m supposed to make the guys lunch. They aren’t a very happy bunch when I’m late and they’re hungry.”
“How often do you cook?
“Often...” Cy spun the truck into the last remaining parking spot and jumped out.
****
Mario was standing in the shade with his hip propped against the cinderblock wall. “We were all beginning to wonder if you forgot about us. Though I see why now.” He smiled, laying on his Italian charm as he said, “Mia, how are you today?”
Cy ignored him. “Did you guys decide what you wanted for lunch?” Mario looked Mia up and down making Cy add under his breath, “If you say what you're thinking, I swear I’ll spit in whatever I serve you.”
Mario laughed and stretched his arms over his head flexing large -muscles. “You can only make three things and you have to make dinner tonight. I think my options are limited.”
“Bite me,” Cy said as he looked up the stairs.
“How often does Cy have to cook?” Mia asked, curious.
Mario shot her wide grin. “Every meal, except breakfast.”
“I thought maybe you guys traded off, you know, take turns.”
“We usually do, but Cy’s in a bit of hot water with the chief right now. So...unfortunately, we’re stuck with....what is it? His lack of ‘culinary skills.’” Mario grinned at Cy.
“Ha. You’re funny. I’m a better cook than you are, and you grew up in a restaurant.” Cy stepped into the shade to stand by him. “What’s your excuse?”
“Point taken.” Mario chuckled, and then turned to Mia. “Have you picked up any pointers from my brother? Now there's a cook.”
“A few,” Mia said.
“Please.” Mario clasped his hands together in prayer. “Save us.”
“Make yourself useful and not a pain. Go get the other bag of groceries out of the back of the truck.” When Mario walked away, Cy turned to face her. “Hey, you gonna be okay? I could ask them if I could walk you back to the restaurant.”
Her black hair gleamed with a blue hue in a blazing sun. Suddenly, he desperately wanted to touch her again. He reached for her hand, but she shook her head.
“Not now.”
“Can I see you tonight?”
“I don’t get off work until late.” She paused and bit her lip. “Maybe I can try and stop by. I have that three-hour break. When do you guys eat dinner?”
“Six o’clock.”
“All right.” She paused he thought to say more, but then turned and walked away. Cy watched as her hips swayed gently under the flow of red fabric. The sexy, flowered dress that she still had on from the night before.
He was sure Mario had caught the fact she was still wearing it. He’d never believe anything other than he and Mia had had a wild night of making love.
He sighed, if that was only the case. He wished if he was going to have the reputation of being a Casanova it would be nice to have earned it. But there were things neither he nor Mia understood, and he would have to be patient while she worked through them. She needed someone she could trust. Sex was easy, it was all the rest of the stuff that was difficult.
He’d never met anyone who’d had a similar childhood, but Mia had spent hers alone. Cy shook his head and walked up the stairs. He knew the things Mia had told him had to stay between the two of them. He understood, she was fearful of her secrets getting out, just as he had always been of his.
There had to be a logical explanation for what was happening to her. People didn’t just catch things on fire. They sure didn’t have blue light orbs that protected them if they did. If they did, his job would sure as hell be easier. The fire department could just take their time, knowing everyone would be safe. He frowned. It wasn’t funny and he knew it, it was plain freaky. But what happened wasn’t her fault. Just as it had never been his fault when he felt his father’s fists falling across his face and body.
****
Pulling sandwich makings out of the refrigerator Cy did a mental checklist as he put them on the table.
Bread, mayo, mustard, ham, turkey—check.
He popped open a few bags of potato chips just as the men started to filter in.
“Anything you want to tell us about, junior?” Mario asked with an evil twinkle in his eyes.
“I'm the same age you are. What do you mean ʻjunior’?”
Mario grabbed a plate along with a handful of chips. “Your friend had on the same dress she came in last night. Either she liked the dress a lot...or...”
Damn. He knew Mario would catch that.
The other men looked at him with the promise of some tasty female gossip to pepper their semi-mundane married lives as they sat around the table.
“Yeah, she spent the night with me, so what?” Cy blurted. It was the truth, even if it wasn’t with the connotations Mario attached. He hadn’t known why he’d said it, other than the fact he didn’t want any chance of a misunderstanding on Mario’s behalf—or anyone else.
Mia was taken.
Taken? Had he just thought that? Hell, he’d almost said it out loud. He had never felt this way about women. He loved it when women were independent and free-spirited, and he knew that Mia didn’t need his protection. She could take care of herself like she’d been doing her whole her life.
Great. In a few hastily spoken words he had ruined this poor girl’s reputation, thinking about himself and not what would be the best for her. But if it kept a player like Mario away from her, that would be all right. Wouldn’t it?
His. That odd disturbing thought went through Cy’s mind. If you felt -as though you possessed someone, did that in turn mean you could hurt that person? His father had always acted as if he owned him. Because he’d given one sperm, his father thought it gave him ownership to abuse him to make himself feel better?
Cy cleared his throat. “She didn’t really spend the night with me, not like what you guys have conjured up in your dirty little minds.” He paused, trying to think of the right words. “Since her house burned, Mia is living in the basement of Mickey’s restaurant. She fell asleep in my truck after the spaghetti feed.” He decided it was okay to make up this little white lie. “I didn't want to take her back to that cold basement.”
“It's eighty-five degrees at night! The cold basement?”
The other men cut Mario off. “Shut up and let the boy finish.” Cy realized they didn’t necessarily want the sordid details, they just wanted to hear the story. They all listened intently around the table.
“Anyway. She was sleeping so p
eacefully, I decided on my own, to take her back to my cabin until she woke up.” He cleared his throat. “But she didn’t until this morning.”
“And you slept in a chair?” Mario asked.
“As a matter of fact, I did. I wasn’t about to have her wake up with me next to her in bed.”
“That would have scared the crap out of her,” Mario said, and they all laughed
There. That made him feel better. Hopefully, his story was enough to keep a hound dog like Mario off her trail. He loved the guy, but damn, he went through women like water. Not that Cy had ever heard women complain about being Mario’s flavor-of-the-week.
A good-looking, young firefighter? In the past women had wanted to go out with the two of them because of what they did for a living. He’d never understood why women thought firefighters were sexy.
Man. If they’d seen what they looked like after they’d come back from a fire, all dirty, sweaty, and smoke ridden. His cabin smelled like smoke for days after a big fire, even after multiple showers. Cy thought if women knew the real truth, they wouldn’t find firefighters nearly so sexy.
Cy popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and started to put things away.
“Are we ever going to have anything to eat other than sandwiches?” Mario complained grabbing another handful of chips and shoving them in his mouth.
“I’m working on it,” Cy said dumping the plates into the sink. “It’s the only thing I can make that’s edible.”
****
The full bags of food were heavy and the pavement was hot under Mia’s sandaled feet, but for the first time in a long time, she felt exhilarated and walked with a spring in her step.
She hoped Cy would be surprised when she showed up at the station. Mia came around the corner and stumbled to a stop. Cy was in front washing the truck with a large brush. They had probably just gotten back from a call since he was still wearing his turn-out pants. Dipping the soap-filled brush into the bucket, he made a sweeping arch across the blazing red truck.
He was bare to the waist, with his turn-out pants rolled down loosely around his midsection. The weight from the suspenders pulled the pants lower in the front, as sweat glistened off the tanned, chiseled muscles of his chest and abdomen. Mia’s hand gripped the bags until her fingers quivered from pressure.
Cy had an amazing body, and the short glimpse she’d seen in the kitchen that morning was just not enough to quench her thirst. She felt her heartbeat kick up a notch and concentrated on controlling the burn starting inside.
Now the burn was for him.
Not noticing her at first, Cy bent and took a deep drink from the garden hose. He emitted a groan of satisfaction as the water ran down his chin and then back to the ground. He raised and stretched when he finally saw her. “Hey!” A large grin burst -onto his face. “What are you doing here? Did your shift end early?”
He was genuinely happy to see her. She felt awkward and lowered the bags to the ground.
“Good timing.” Cy continued, “We just got back from a car fire downtown. This poor girl parked her car in front of the library. Her friend saw flames coming out from under the hood and called 9-1-1. The car was a big mess. The engine was engulfed in flames and I had to hack the hood open with an ax to make sure the fire was completely out.”
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Mia asked catching the glint in his eyes.
Cy laughed, looking like a little kid for a second. “I guess I did. It was fun up until the captain made me go talk to the girl who owned the car. When I started to ask her a few routine questions, she burst into tears. She was on her way to trade in the car, guess that won’t be happening now.” He wrung the water from the rags and laid them over the back of the bench to dry. “I hate when girls cry.” He looked up at her and smiled again. “That’s such a guy thing, isn’t it?”
“It shows you care. But it is a girl’s secret weapon. Well, that and a few other things.” She watched his eyes widen as a glint caught in them. “You have to cook all the food for the guys and wash the truck?” Mia asked changing the subject.
“It’s fine. It’s just stinkin’ hot today.”
Mia walked over and ran a hand over his bunker coat that lay across the bench. Large block letters ran across the bottom of the coat with his name. “Brennon?”
“That’s me—I guess. At least that’s my dad’s name. I’d change it if I had a choice.”
“It’s part of who you are.” Mia paused, throwing her hair off her shoulders. “Cy? I was thinking. All this extra work you have to do for the station? Is it because you got in trouble the night of the fire at my house?”
He stopped, picked up his T-shirt off the bench, and yanked it over his head. “I shouldn’t have gone against orders but, I knew there was someone still in there. The captain was right for punishing me. I endangered the other men’s lives. I should have listened and waited for back-up.”
“But you saved me.” Mia lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
“Maybe. You looked like you would have been safe with or without me.”
She lowered her voice, suddenly afraid someone might overhear. “I told you that never happened. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t gotten me out.” Mia rubbed a hand behind her neck. “I still don’t know how the fire started. I’d talked to a girl at work and was a little keyed up when I fell asleep. But other than that. I may have been in my freaky, little blue bubble as the house burned down around me.”
“I’m happy you’re not.”
Meeting his dark blue gaze which reflected the sky above her, she added, “It’s okay... right now.”
He watched her for a second, she guessed to make sure he’d understood her offer. It was all the encouragement he needed. He wasn't a dumb man. He closed the gap between them and ran a thumb over her lower lip. His finger was still damp from the cool water.
“I want this, but I don’t want to push you. I know it’s difficult for you. But...Mia, you’re so damn sexy. How much time do you think we have?” His words trailed off. Grabbing her hand he pulled her into the shadow of the engine. “Tell me I have an hour, but a second’s enough.” His words were heated which made her blood boil. There were so many emotions rolling off him.
For the first time, she knew Cy was serious about her. By the look on his face, he was dead serious. Mia raised her hand, thinking she needed space, but found she really wanted to feel those muscles her fingers had been aching to touch. Her fingers ran over the Fire Department logo which was stretched over his heart and clung to his chest from the heat of the day.
Could she do it? Would it be safe this time? What if she hurt him? she thought.
She gently laid her hand on his chest and felt his muscles jump from her touch. “Short time—Careful,” was all she choked out before he bent his head, blocking out the sky and silenced her with his mouth.
His lips tasted salty from sweat. The press of the engine behind her was cool and hard as he pushed her back against it. His palm was large and his fingers wrapped easily around the back of her neck, pulling her closer. But it was the tenderness of his kiss that took her by surprise.
Cy made her want things that she’d tried very hard for years to convince herself weren’t important. He teased the seam of her lips, slowly dipping inside, tasting her mouth thoroughly with his tongue. She raised her hands to rest on his shoulders and felt the strength there. Her bare thigh accidentally brushed against the heavy material of his turnout pants where he felt hard as steel.
She was sure they had both forgotten where they were. Reluctantly, Cy pulled back, nipping her lower lip between his teeth on the way and asked raggedly, “Should I stop?”
Mia nodded and pushed him away feeling like she was going to combust at any second.
“I'll take that whenever I can get it. It's worth waiting for. You put a whole new meaning to the words hot-flashes.”
Mia forced a smile and met his burning gaze. “Dinner...” The wo
rds stuck, and she coughed, trying to clear her throat.
“What?”
She pointed to the bags that lay at their feet. “When I told Mickey that you were cooking, he gave me some things from the restaurant and the afternoon off to come over and give the guys a break.”
“Why does everyone think I can’t cook?” Cy asked with a half-hearted laugh and stepping back, picked up the heavy grocery bags.
Her brain could think a little more clearly now that he had stepped back a few feet. “I make some pretty good eggplant parmesan. I learned at the restaurant and thought I’d come over and teach you.”
Cy watched her for a second and then stated sincerely, “Thanks for thinking about me.”
Since the night he came into the restaurant that was all she could do was think about him. Was it that obvious on her face? She hoped not.
“Come on.” He flipped his head toward the stairs. “Teach me how to cook.”
****
Mia pierced and dragged the knife down, slicing the plump flesh of the eggplant into even rounds. “Make sure all the slices are the same thickness, so they cook evenly.”
Cy sat backward on a kitchen chair, his face a bit above counter level watching intently her every move. His concentration broke for a second, and he looked up. “Sorry. I’m a tactical learner. I can read a book, but I would much rather watch someone do it, and then try it myself. I’ve always been like that.”
Mia laid the slices carefully on the foil-lined cookie sheet. “Here.” She beckoned for him to stand beside her. He stood and she handed him a spoon with salt. “Shake salt on, lightly... lightly,” Mia emphasized the last word. “Just a little on the tops of the slices.”
She watched his large hands doing the task. “What's that for?”
“It makes the eggplant sweat.”
“Really? Sweat?” Cy continued to sprinkle the salt. She loved teaching someone how to do something, it made her feel good. She’d never had the chance before.
“We have to let it sit for a few minutes.” Mia turned and brushed her hands together. They sat at the table turning toward the fan blowing at least some air through the window. Mia pulled her hair over her shoulder and tied it in a knot, then tossed it back. “It’s been so hot and sticky for the last few days.”
Fighting the Fire Page 6
