“She’s mostly a beagle.”
Royce squeezed Nina’s shoulder. “I’ll get her. Don’t worry.” He turned to the mother. “Where is the bedroom?”
She pointed to the middle of the house. “From the front door make a right down the hall. It’s the first door on the left.”
The flames hadn’t yet reached that part of the house, but smoke definitely had.
He turned to Samantha. “Give me your bandana,” he murmured.
She flashed a horrified look as she loosened the knot then handed him the bandana. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
“I got this.” He buttoned up his jeans jacket and wrapped the bandana around his nose and mouth.
In the distance a siren wailed. But they might be too late.
Royce ran to the porch, kicked open the front door, and stood aside as smoke spilled out of the doorway. He dropped to his hands and knees and scrambled inside. There wasn’t a second to spare.
The tiled entryway bordered on a wood floor already warm, the air even more so. He scurried down the hall to the first door on his left, opened half-way. Wood flooring turned to pale green carpet at the threshold. Nina’s bedroom was filled with a haze of smoke but not yet completely obscured. He crawled inside and kicked the door shut.
Next to the wood-frame bed in the corner sat a metal crate. A brown and white puppy with long floppy ears emitted a high-pitched yip the second it spied Royce.
“I got you, Perrita,” he said sweetly.
The roar of an explosion ripped through the house, hurtling Royce flat onto his stomach, his head hitting the edge of a skateboard. He threw the damn thing at the door in frustration.
Shit. Gas line or propane tank. Whatever it was he had to get out of there quickly. And not the way he came. An orange glow seeped under the door from the hallway.
The fire crew should be there by now, hosing the flames on the other side of the house. He’d have to leave through the window.
He scrambled on his stomach to the wall and felt his way up. The window was an old-school sliding aluminum frame. He tugged on the latch. Jammed. He tugged harder, sweat and heat reminding him there was no time to spare. Better to break it. And old-school non-tempered glass meant he could break it.
He needed a brick or something to smash the window. Where the hell was that damn skateboard? He looked around in the darkening haze. Shit. He could barely see a thing.
“What the hell does your owner have that I can use, Perrita?”
Nina liked baseball. Probably played baseball.
“I sure hope you play it.”
Royce moved swiftly through the room, feeling along the walls, the carpet, scanning visually when he could. He hit a bookshelf and fumbled his fingers across it. Books were heavy…or a bookend…or whatever the hell this metal thing was…
A trophy. With a little baseball player on top.
“Good girl, Nina.”
Royce grabbed the trophy, then pulled the cover off the bed and tossed it over the crate. Perrita complained bitterly, her high-pitched barks scratchy from smoke.
“Hang on there, puppy.”
He closed his eyes, held on to the marble base, and swung the trophy for dear life. The window shattered, leaving ragged glass all around the edges, and shards on top of Perrita’s crate. Using the marble base like a hammer, Royce frantically chipped out jagged fragments of glass along the lower edge of the window.
He threw a pillow and the bedspread over the sash then grabbed the crate. Perrita squirmed from the jostling unbalancing his hold.
“Sit, stay girl,” he grumbled.
He lifted the crate over the sash and bent over as far as he could. Poor Perrita still had a fall of several inches before landing with a thud and a yap on the lawn.
“Sorry, girl.” He climbed up and over the sill, jumping over the crate, rolling onto the lawn.
He grabbed the crate handle and took off, sprinting away from the fire, Perrita silent, probably stunned, through the rough and tumble ride. He yanked down the bandana and gasped for air, his lungs burning. At the edge of the lawn, he stumbled, dropping the crate then slumping over onto the grass.
“Royce!”
Samantha’s scream livened him a little. She ran toward him, an EMT in tow.
“Royce.” Samantha had tears in her eyes. “I was so worried.”
“Excuse me, ma’am.” The emergency services worker held an oxygen mask up to Royce’s mouth. “Breathe, sir.”
Royce drew in a deep breath, the air soothing. His eyes stung with soot. He blinked hoping for relief.
“Perrita!” Nina’s gleeful shriek filled him with satisfaction.
Suddenly before his eyes was the cutest damn puppy he was sure he’d ever seen.
“Perrita wants to say thank you.” Nina held out the dog. Royce took Perrita and held her in his arms.
A dog. A goddamn dog. He’d saved a goddamn dog.
“She’s my bestest friend ever. I love her so much.” Nina wrapped her arms around Royce. “You’re my hero.”
Perrita licked his neck and under his chin.
Tears flooded his burning eyes.
Shit.
“That was reckless and foolhardy, son.”
Royce looked up at the source of the grave voice. A burly man in firefighter gear, a smudged “Fire Chief” badge on his helmet, smiled under his gray mustache.
Royce handed the puppy to its overjoyed owner. “I know, sir.”
“Although, I suppose some might call what you did bravery.” The chief held out his gloved hand.
Royce took hold and the chief hauled him to standing. “I couldn’t let…I mean, you know, it may seem like just a puppy, but that’s this little girl’s life.”
Samantha’s arm snaked around Royce’s waist.
“Don’t worry, son. Sam here told me your story.” The chief took off his glove and held out his hand. “I’m Mark Stevenson, chief of the San Juan Island Fire Department.”
Royce shook the man’s hand. Stevenson’s grip was strong. “Royce Donovan, on leave from Dallas Fire and Rescue.”
Stevenson glanced at Samantha, then back at Royce. “You planning on going back to Dallas?”
Royce draped his arm across Sam’s shoulders. “I’m not sure, sir. I’m here for another couple of weeks. Then, well, I don’t know.”
“You ever do wildlands?”
“Twenty years in California, sir.”
Stevenson shook his head. “That state’s an effing tinder box.”
“Yes, sir.” Royce tried to stifle his grin.
“You’ve got good firefighting instincts, son. We could use someone like you. How about if you decide to stay, you look us up. We have a kick-ass training program for our volunteers. It’ll brush up your skills a bit. Maybe tame that recklessness.”
Royce banked back a fresh wave of emotion. “Yes, sir.”
“Just know I won’t tolerate you pulling any more stunts like that.”
“I understand, sir.”
The chief nodded while one corner of his mouth turned upward. “Gotta get back to work, son.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chief Stevenson walked back into the fray of the call to a mother, a daughter, and a puppy who would need to rebuild their lives.
On an island that had the power to save them.
Chapter Nine: Epilogue
Samantha hung back in the foyer of the recovery center with a view of the great room and studied the scene before her. Royce sat in an inordinately large overstuffed chair with his arms wrapped around a blond-haired girl about eight years old. The girl smiled and giggled as they spoke to each other, she alternately kissing his cheek or poking his chest with a dagger of a finger. Next to them, on a well-worn couch, a gorgeous woman with blond hair a shade darker than the little girl’s, relaxed and observed with a mien of contentment.
Family. Royce’s family. Samantha had been far too nervous to meet them. But here they were before her and they were so normal.
Royce had asked her to meet his sister Virginia—Ginny—and his niece Charlotte, whom he called “Charlie” although, he explained, her name was spelled “Charlee” with two e’s.
Well, Royce was clearly in love with Charlee-with-two-e’s in that sort of “I can’t believe this wonderful child is my niece” sort of way. And Charlee was very much enamored of her uncle in that sort of “I’m an eight-year-old girl and you’re my hero” sort of way.
Ginny uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, smoothing down her tight jeans, and, in the process, flashing a ring on her fourth finger with a diamond to be envied.
“Royce is a good man,” Vic’s soft bass buzzed behind her. “Or maybe I should say he’s a good catch.”
Sam snorted in amusement. “Yeah. That he is.” She gave Vic’s hand a squeeze. “And he’s a better man because of you.”
“Just doing my job.” Vic nodded. “But I’d say he’s an even better man because of you.”
“Thanks, Vic.” She’d like to hope that was true.
Vic gave her a little swat on the butt. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
Samantha drew in a long breath to bolster her courage and walked into the great room. Ginny glanced up and met her gaze and smiled in realization.
“Royce,” she said. “Someone’s here for you.”
Royce turned to his sister then followed her gaze to Samantha. He grinned. “Thanks for coming,” he said.
“I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to meet your family,” she said, happiness stretching her face.
“Are you Sam?” Charlee asked, her eyes wide.
Samantha approached the pair on the couch. “I am. You must be Charlee.”
“You’re pretty.”
Samantha flushed and glanced sidelong at Royce who was trying very hard not to grin.
“Thank you, Charlee.”
Ginny patted the space next to her. “Please join us, Samantha.”
“Sam. Please call me Sam. It’s just fewer syllables.” Samantha sat next to Royce’s sister with a view of the diamond on her finger.
A pang of emotion clenched her gut. Even over two years later, she still had to subvert pain whenever she saw memory-laden jewelry on others.
“Royce was just telling us about his new job.”
Sam had helped get him a job brush cutting for a landscaper. “Jake’s a great guy, and there’ll be a lot of work in the spring and early summer.”
Ginny placed her glittering hand on the couch cushion. “We’re going for a drive to see some of the sites around the island. I’d love it if you could join us.”
“There’s an alpaca farm!” Charlee had the cutest Texas twang to her high pitched squeal of excitement.
Samantha laughed. “There is, indeed. And it’s not far from here. But alpacas are very shy. You can’t pet them, you can only look.”
Charlee pouted.
Samantha reconsidered. “Well, maybe one of them won’t be as shy as the others.”
She caught Royce’s gaze, his eyes shining with joy. He winked.
She’d kiss him later.
* * * * *
Satisfaction smoldered in Royce’s heart as he and Ginny stood on the driftwood-strewn shore of South Beach at American Camp. The ever-present wind buffeted their backs while the open water of the Strait of Juan de Fuca provided a magnificent backdrop to the cheery scene before them. On the rocky beach below, Samantha helped Charlee search for pretty stones and sea glass. Every once in a while one of them would squeal excitedly about a find. Mostly Charlee though, as being on the seashore was a rare occasion for her.
Royce glanced at Ginny’s hand as it looped through his arm. “That’s a rock of an engagement ring,” he said. “I guess Archer has been saving up for a while.”
“Yeah,” Ginny laughed. “Apparently your best friend has been in love with me for a couple of years.”
Royce chuckled. “And once your husband and big brother were out of the picture he made his move.”
“Something like that.”
“What does Charlee think of all this?”
Ginny drew in a breath. “Archer is no substitute for you. Charlee loves you. But she does like having a man in the house. She got used to you being there, I guess.” She smiled as she observed Samantha with Charlee. “Samantha’s wonderful, Royce. Maybe there’s a ring in her future?”
“Ginny,” Royce scowled in her direction. “I’ve known her barely a month.”
“And yet you’re moving in with her.”
“Housing is a prime commodity here on the island. And I’ll be applying to the fire department’s sleeper program, which means I could live at the fire station part-time.”
Ginny stared at the ground as she slid her foot along a worn ridge of driftwood. “Yet you’ve already slept with her so why bother?”
Royce stiffened. “What? How on earth did you know that?”
“A woman can tell. It’s the way two people interact. You two seem comfortable in each other’s presence yet tentative at the same time.” She shrugged. “As if you’ve been physically intimate but haven’t quite let all the emotional barriers down.”
Royce sighed. He’d been hoping that spending more time with Samantha would give them more time to talk, get to know each other, and maybe…
Dare he think it? To accept they’d fallen in love.
Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
“I’ve never seen you happier, Royce.”
Ginny’s observation fueled the warm glow beginning to spark at the sight of Samantha easing her way so readily into his family.
“Well, big brother, if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.” Ginny slid the other foot along the log. “But I like her, Charlee likes her, and, well, you like her.” Ginny smiled at him. “And she clearly likes you. Take my word for it.”
Royce sighed. “Yeah.” It was kind of perfect.
“Just let me know where to ship your stuff after I return to Dallas.”
Ginny left his side and walked down to the shoreline. Charlee ran up to her, gesticulating excitedly, showing her something in her palm. Ginny clapped and beamed. Samantha hesitated, then joined them. Ginny said something. Samantha seemed flustered as she tried to smother a smile. She looked at Royce and her smile grew bigger.
She trod up the beach and bounded over bleached logs until she stood before him. He held out his hand and she took it, letting him hoist her up onto his log.
She teetered. He wrapped his arms around her waist stabilizing her. She looped her hands around his neck and melted against him.
“And?” Royce said.
“And what?”
He gazed down at her and arched a brow.
She gaped. “And do I like your family and you well enough to want you—all of you—in my life?”
Royce snorted in amusement at her acumen. “Yeah. That.”
Samantha smirked briefly before letting the slyness turn into a genuine smile. “I think I might need more convincing on your part.”
He hugged her more closely. “Really?”
She nudged his chin with her nose leaving her lips tantalizingly close. “Yeah. Really.”
He flicked his gaze to the beach. Ginny and Charlee were fixated on something of interest among the rocks.
Good. They wouldn’t be looking his way.
He grazed Samantha’s lips with his own. “Like that?”
“Not convincing enough.”
He smothered a grin but he could not suppress his arousal. He rolled his hips against her. She bit her lower lip, releasing it plump and glistening as a blush bloomed on her cheeks.
He dipped his head and kissed her lightly, tenderly. She pressed her body into his, her curves fitting perfectly against the hollows and ridges of his muscles. He licked the seam between her lips before melding his mouth to hers.
She softened, opening for him, letting him explore l
azily. He took his pleasure, tasting her, enjoying her, lingering a bit too long in such a public place. Reluctantly, he pulled back, still not quite satisfied. He gazed into her beautiful brown eyes, glazed with sinful satiation.
“How’s that?”
“That’s better.” She lifted herself on her toes and leaned in to his ear. “You can try convincing me even more later tonight.”
“I have one more night at the center,” he groaned. “I’ll be spending it with Pete.”
“Damn,” she said under her breath. “What if I kidnapped you and tied you down so you couldn’t leave?”
“That’s your fantasy, remember?” he said with a chuckle.
“Double damn.” She tugged on the collar of his jeans jacket. “What about the next night?”
“My first night as a rehabilitated man?” He narrowed his eyes. “Can you handle that?”
“Can you handle my nightmares?”
“With a hunky fireman in your bed, you won’t be having those anymore.”
“Then you’ll have to spend every night with me.”
“Promise?” He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers.
She grinned.
He kissed her forehead then hugged her more closely. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”
“That’s recovery talk, isn’t it?”
Royce laughed out loud. “Yep. You got me.”
Samantha nestled against his chest. “That sounds like a perfect future.”
Author’s Note to the Reader
Thank you for reading Undamaged. If you enjoyed my novella, I would love it if you would leave a review on Amazon, on Goodreads, or on your blog!
Check out the rest of the books in the Dallas Fire & Rescue Kindle World!
http://paigetylertheauthor.com/BooksDallasFireAndRescueKindleWorld.html
About the Author
Regina Kammer is a librarian, an art historian, and an award-nominated, best-selling, multi-published writer of erotica and historical erotic romance. Her short stories and novels make history sexier, whether the era is Roman, Byzantine, Viking, American Revolution, or Victorian. She’s even sexed up contemporary settings, Steampunk, and Greco-Roman mythology. She has been published by Cleis Press, Go Deeper Press, Ellora’s Cave, House of Erotica, Story Ink, The Naughty Literati, and her own imprint, Viridium Press. She began writing historical fiction with romantic elements during National Novel Writing Month 2006, switching to erotica when all her characters suddenly demanded to have sex.
Dallas Fire & Rescue: Undamaged (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 7
