“I don’t know, Trisha. I don’t think it’s as simple as just telling me it’s okay.”
I let out a long breath and look up at the ceiling, like I’m asking God for guidance. I’m also wondering why there’s a popcorn ceiling and horrible fluorescent lights in our nice station. I guess I’m tired and just want to think about nothing of consequence for a while. I look back at him.
“Joe, do you even begin to understand how strong and tough I am?”
“Do you always have to be so tough? It’s okay to be soft once in a while, you know.”
“I suppose, but that’s not me. So are we done here?”
He studies me silently. I swear his hair is turning gray the longer we sit here. “No, we’re not done. We need to talk about this so-called boyfriend who abused you.”
“But I told you, I don’t want to talk about him. It’s over . . . old news. I’ve dealt with it and moved on.”
“It’s not old news to me.”
“Okay. Honestly, I’m sorry I told you. I don’t want you to see me as a victim. You don’t need to feel bad for me.”
“Feel bad for you?” he asks with wide eyes.
I shrug.
“I’m gutted because something horrible happened to you, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Sharon used to accuse me of having a hero complex, and right now I have to wonder if she was right because I desperately wish I could’ve been the one to save you from being victimized.”
“Sometimes we have to be our own hero, Joe.”
He looks at me with a measured gaze. I swear I see admiration reflected in his eyes. I’ll take it. I worked hard to get myself back on my feet.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Honestly, I’m glad you weren’t around for that. It wasn’t pretty.”
“No, it’s raw and ugly and there’s no protocol for what I would want to do. ’Cause actually I’d like having a baseball bat and five minutes alone in a room with the bastard. I’d hit a home run with his fucking head and he’d no longer have the ability to hurt you or any other woman again.”
My mouth gapes open as I picture his description in my mind.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“Don’t be sorry. That was a very satisfying thing to hear.”
He stands up, moves away from the desk, and holds his arms open. “Come here, sweetheart.”
I fight back a swell of emotion. My God, what did I do right to deserve this man?
I walk straight into his embrace, and allow myself to be wrapped in his warmth. “I’m sorry I’m not easy,” I say with a sigh.
“I don’t want easy. I want real. You are real. I want you.”
“Is that a haiku?”
“Shut up, woman.”
Fighting back a smile, I press my lips together. “Did you forget how good my pitching arm is? Tell me to shut up again and I’ll nail you with that stapler on the edge of your desk.”
While still holding me, Joe opens up the desk drawer, sets the stapler inside, and closes it.
“Shut up and kiss me,” he whispers with a teasing tone, and a twinkle his eye.
And I do.
Chapter 16: The Babysitter
We don’t know who we are until we see what we can do. ~Margaret Grimes
The next afternoon at the station Jim and I are checking in some repaired equipment in the bay when a striking blonde holding a small boy steps into our view.
“Can we help you, ma’am?” Jim asks.
She drops a large canvas bag on the floor of the bay and moves the boy to her other hip. “Yes, thanks. Can you get Charlie for me? I’m his wife.”
“You’re Sue the narc agent?” I ask with wide eyes.
She nods impatiently.
I approach her. “Sorry, I’m Trisha, and Charlie isn’t here.”
Sue looks alarmed. “Oh no, is he on a call?”
“He and Joe left about ten minutes ago for a bad car wreck off Ventura Boulevard.”
She steps over to the bench and sinks down, moving her son who’s starting to squirm to her lap. He points to the fire engine excitedly. She checks her phone and groans. “Oh no. I can’t believe this.”
“Is there something I can do to help?”
“I got called in. A major bust we’ve been working on for six months is going down in a few hours. I have to get to the station. Our nanny has the stomach flu, and our back-up babysitter is in Florida visiting her mother. Babysitter number two said she could come, but just let me know it won’t be for two more hours. I thought since this was major I could leave him with Charlie until the babysitter could show up. He said afternoons are usually training sessions, but I should have still checked. Now I’m screwed.”
Her son is really squirming and whining now.
“What’s his name?” I ask as I step closer to them.
“Spencer. He loves fire trucks. No surprise there.”
“Can I?” I ask, as I nod to the truck.
“Yes, thank you. I can make a few more calls. Charlie’s sister might be able to step in.”
I sink to my knees and look at the little boy. “Hey, Spencer, I’m Trisha, your dad’s friend here at the station. Can I show you the fire truck?”
He nods, wiggles off mom’s lap, and rushes over to me.
“Here, take my hand I’ll show you.”
He folds his little hand in mine as he bounces all the way to the truck.
“I don’t know, T. Rex,” Jim warns. “Chief may not like this if you didn’t get approval ahead of time.”
I give Jim the evil eye. “He doesn’t need to know then, does he?”
Jim shrugs. “It’s your suspension. You’re such a rebel.”
“And proud of it.”
When I open the door and lift little Spencer up on the first stair to the cab, he scrambles right up with me right behind him. Once inside I put my hands on his shoulders. “Okay, I’m going to sit in the seat and you can sit on my lap and I’ll teach you how the truck works, okay?”
Spencer nods, and his gaze has the same serious expression his dad has during meetings. He’s like a mini version of Charlie.
I like that he’s taken to me right away; I haven’t scared him off like I scare the grown men around here. He sits on my lap with his little hands clutching the huge steering wheel and repeats the name of each dial and knob as I call it out to him.
“Do you want to be a firefighter when you grow up like your dad, Spencer?”
He nods.
“You’ll be a really good one I bet.”
“What’s this?” he asks, pointing to the button I’ve avoided mentioning. It’s the Q2 siren switch on the control panel.
“That’s the siren. It’s really, really loud.”
He twists his head and looks up at me. “Can I push it, Twisha, please?”
I hold my breath for a second, wondering the worst that can come out of it. Oh, what the hell. “You’ve been such a good boy that we can push it, but only once. Okay?”
He nods anxiously. I take his hand and help him stretch far enough that with my help he’s able to push it down and a second or two later I snap it back off.
Holy hell. I forgot how loud it could be when the truck’s in the bay. I press my lips together waiting for whatever hell I’m going to get.
“Okay Spencer, you did a great job. Now we need to get down and check on Mom.”
I think he’s so stunned from the siren blast that he agrees without any hesitation and as we work down the stairs Jim is scowling at me.
“You really did it now, T. Rex.”
Several other guys enter the bay. “What’s going on?” asks Bobo.
“I was showing Charlie’s kid, Spencer, the truck. Got a problem with that?”
Bobo rolls his eyes and turns around. “It’s okay, guys, just T. Rex making trouble like usual.”
I narrow my eyes at the bunch of them.
“Everything okay?” Sue asks.
“Oh sure. Don’t worry about them. And Spencer was grea
t. You’re going to make a great firefighter one day, aren’t you dude?”
“Yeah!” He jumps up and down, and his mom smiles.
“Hey hold on a sec, I just thought of something.” I go to the cabinets on the far wall, open one, then pull out a little red plastic fire hat. “Look what I’ve got here, Spencer . . . your very own hat.”
He scampers over to me and I place it on his head before giving it a pat down. “There you go.”
“Thank you, Twisha.”
“Sure thing, dude.”
Sue looks at me with a warm expression. “Thank you for being so kind, Trisha. Charlie has told me how highly he thinks of you.”
“Thanks, but don’t thank me—he’s a great kid. Hey, did you find anyone to watch him?”
Her expression falls. “No. I don’t know what I’m going to do. We’ve never had all of our back-ups fall through like this.”
“I can watch him if you want until Charlie gets back.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s not a problem. I bet they’ll be back within the hour anyway.”
Sue lifts up the canvas bag. “I brought snacks for Charlie to give him, and stuff like his coloring books and stickers.”
“Cool. Hey, Spencer, can we hang together for a while until your dad gets back? That way mom can go to work, and I can have fun with you.”
“Sure!”
I turn to his mom. “I worked for a pre-school during the summer before my first year of college so I’m good with kids this age.”
Sue lets out a sigh of relief. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Truly.”
Kneeling down to her son’s level, she takes his hand. “I’m going to work Spence, so have fun with Trisha and then Daddy will be back soon. Okay?”
He smiles and nods and walks over to me. “Okay, Twisha.”
I grab the canvas bag and give mom a wave. “Good luck with the bust. I hope you take ’em all down.”
Her expression gets hard as she nods. “We will.”
I take Charlie up to the dayroom and ignore the looks the other guys give me. “Look, Spencer, these are your dad’s friends, the other firefighters.”
Bobo gives him a thumbs up and the others wave. “I’m watching him until his dad gets back.”
No one says anything and they turn back and continue their conversation. I plop Spencer’s bag down on the table and unzip it. “Hey Spencer, let’s see what cool stuff you have in here. You want to show me?”
He climbs up on the chair and starts pulling things out of the bag, and dropping them onto the tabletop.
I let out a low whistle. “Wow! Look at all this fun stuff. What should we do first?”
He slaps his hand on the jungle animals coloring book. I dig the crayons out of the bag. “Do you want a snack while you color?”
He nods so I pull out the juice box and insert the little straw, then pour the crackers on top of a paper towel.
And that’s how Joe and Charlie find us when they get back from their call. Spencer, having finished off the crackers and juice, moved to my lap so we’re coloring together, me on the right side page, and he on the left. The two men just stand and stare at us for a minute, their mouths practically hanging open. I wait for Spencer to notice them but he’s too absorbed in his work.
I nudge him gently. “Hey, Spencer, look who’s here!”
He looks up briefly. “Hi, Daddy.” And then goes right back to coloring.
I hear Joe chuckle.
“You’ve got a great kid, Charlie. Spencer and I are buds now, aren’t we, dude?”
He nods, his hat crooked on his little head. He points to the lion I was coloring. “You didn’t finish, Twisha.”
“You’re a detail man I see,” I say to him with a wink. “You want to see if Daddy will finish the lion?”
He looks up. “Will you, Daddy?”
“Sure, little man.” He takes a seat next to us and I scoot Spencer over.
“Did Sue get ahold of you?” I ask.
He nods. “Thanks so much, Trisha. Really.”
“Any time, Charlie. He’s a really cool kid.”
“McNeill,” Joe says, “a word with you in the office.”
I shrug. “Sure.”
Charlie looks up, concerned, but Joe nods at him. I have no idea what’s going on but I guess I’m going to find out.
I say good-bye to Spencer and silently follow Joe to the office. He closes the door behind us, then leans back with his ass against the front of the desk and his arms folded over his chest.
“Is it true you let him play on the truck and blast the siren?”
I can feel my cheeks turning red and it pisses me off that my skin gives me away. “Yeah, I did. And I already got grief from the guys, just so you know.”
He shakes his head with a stern expression. “What am I going to do with you, McNeill?”
I shrug. “Whatever you want I suppose. I’m yours after all.” I give him a wide grin.
His smile finally cracks through. “I wish I could have been there to see it, Spencer pretend-driving the truck.”
“Oh man, he loved it. He’s going to be a firefighter one day, just like his dad.”
Joe nods. “Probably a safer bet than narc agent.”
“Speaking of which, have you ever seen Sue?”
“No, why?”
“She looks like a model who happens to tote a gun in her Coach handbag. How badass is that?”
He steps closer. “No one’s as badass as you, T. Rex.”
“I’m flattered you think so, Lieutenant Murphy.”
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me, gently at first and then hard and urgent. I’m breathless when we finally pull apart.
“Whoa, what’s that about?”
“It’s crazy, but there was something about seeing you with that kid, how natural and great you were with him. It just stirred me up.”
“Apparently,” I murmur as he presses against me and I realize how stirred up he really is.
“I want more than anything right now to take you to your bunk, pull off your uniform, and make love to you.”
My eyes grow wide as he leans down and kisses my neck. “You’re acting like you want to put a baby in me.”
“Yeah, I bet that sounds crazy, huh?”
“No. Not crazy at all.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I think it’s great since you’d make an amazing father. You’re serious daddy material for sure.”
“Do you want to have kids?”
“I do. You know I’d tried to talk myself out of it since my ex was anti-kids. But in my heart I’ve always wanted a family.”
He runs his finger under my chin and kisses me again. “Good to know. Now you go back out there and pretend that I scolded you. And I’ll stay behind until I calm down.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a wink and salute as I slip out the door.
Chapter 17: Have a Little Faith
I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship. ~Mary Louise Alcott
“You may want to slow down,” Joe warns me as I take the curves of Laurel Canyon’s winding road in my pick-up as fast as my truck will handle. “There’s usually traffic cops hiding on the turn-offs.”
“Let ’em catch me,” I tease. I’ve got the truck’s windows open and my hair is whipping around my face as I speed around another curve on the way to Jeanine’s house off La Cienega.
I can’t help it. It’s fun driving this road when it’s not weighed down by rush hour traffic. The sharp twists heading up-up-up the hill, and then down-down-down are thrilling, and then suddenly you cross Sunset Boulevard into the land of Oz.
It’s fun chasing convertibles with the tan beautiful people in their expensive sunglasses, Hollywood producers showing off their Teslas, and the Valley people clinging onto their Honda and Ford Fiesta’s steering wheels until they’re safely back on flat land.
I also love the funky mish-mash of hou
ses perched on the edge of the canyon road: everything from English-style cottages that look like they belong in fairyland, to ultra-modern concrete boxes with checkerboard windows of frosted glass, to Spanish haciendas with crumbling terra cotta tile roofs. Wild bougainvilleas trail delicate fuchsia blooms up Juliet balconies and along the stucco walls edging the road.
Joe scowls.
“You don’t have to do this, you know that, right?” I ask as I make an extra sharp turn.
“I know,” Joe says.
“Paul and Dad are going to help me.”
He nods. “Paul, your dad, and me.” He folds his arms over his chest.
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have told you all those nice things Jeanine said about you. Is that why you’re helping us with her landscaping? She’s not even going to be there today. She’s on another business trip.”
“Ha, surely not that. You told me that the landscaping work is part of how you’re compensating Jeanine for her legal expertise. I’m helping because the sooner your damn divorce gets wrapped up, the happier I’ll be.”
“Oh. Does it bother you that I’m technically still married?”
He shrugs.
“’Cause it shouldn’t. I don’t think of myself as still married to him . . . at all.”
I almost bring up his divorce which I don’t believe is done, but that seems like old news, since he hasn’t even talked to her in over two years.
“So what’s taking so long?”
“I had no idea that you were so old-fashioned.”
He folds his arms over his chest.
“What, do you think I’m somehow cheating on him with you? I sure hope not because that’s just bat-shit crazy. He’s the one who cheated on me, as you know.”
“I know,” he grumbles.
My mouth drops open. “You don’t think it’s me that’s dragging my feet, do you?”
“No,” he says quietly, sounding a little too half-hearted to me.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I jerk my car to the right and turn onto a side-road before slamming on the brakes. I shut off the engine, leaving the car parked in a wonky way, and hand him my cell phone.
“Okay, find my ex in the contacts, and then hit dial.”
His eyes narrow and darken. “Why?”
Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) Page 15
