by Vonnie Davis
“Aren’t we all? It’s a company requirement.” He removed his boot and blood ran out. “Put some antiseptic on it, a patch and wrap it up. Looks like we’ve got hours of work left here today.”
“If you think I’m letting you…”
Boyd grasped the old man’s shirt. “You have no freaking idea the day I’ve had already. Don’t give me a bunch of bullshit. Fix my foot so I can do my damn job.”
The old man yelled for the captain who took one look at Boyd’s foot and pointed to the ambulance where the boy was being cared for. They rode to the hospital together, an ice pack on Boyd’s face where the wood had ripped away part of his protective mask.
A shower, a salad and a glass of wine and Graci-Ella had unwound enough from her day at work to watch the news she always recorded on the TV. Tonight, local news topped national. A fire destroyed one house and did serious damage to two others. One fireman rescued a boy from a burning building, falling through the steps and floor to the basement in the process. The boy sustained minor injuries and was released. The fireman was hospitalized.
The camera panned on the kid who talked in a hoarse voice about this giant of a man who kept him safe as they fell through floors and then carried him out of the building. “He was like Superman, but with bigger muscles, and he kept telling me I was going to be okay. Sometimes he called me by my real name and sometimes he’d call me Matty. I think maybe he got hit on the head and was confused.”
She sat straight in her comfy chair. Matty? The man the kid boasted about had to be Boyd. How badly was he hurt? She thumbed through her cell phone numbers until she found Noah Steele, Station thirty-two. A press of her thumb to call, and he answered on the second ring.
“Captain Steele here.”
“This is Graci-Ella. I just heard about the fire today on the news. I record it every day so I don’t miss it.” Stop rambling. I sound moronic.
His smile almost filtered across the phone lines like a handful of glitter. “And you want to know if it was Tiny who was hurt and how bad his injuries were and what room he was assigned at Bay Care Health System?”
Lord have mercy. Is this man a mind reader?
She twirled a strand of damp hair around her finger. “Well…ah…I knew he had a rough day with his son. I was hoping it wasn’t him. I do have his number, but I didn’t know if he’d have his cell or be in any shape to talk.”
A slow chuckle crackled over the line. “I’m an old army dawg, honey. I don’t mince words, especially when I see an instant attraction between two people I like. He’s in room three-ten. Take him some snicker doodles from Westside Bakery. Remember, room three-ten.” He ended the call and she flew to her bedroom to put on some clothes.
She called the bakery to see if they were still open and did they have snicker doodles. Did they also have chocolate chip pecan cookies and coconut macaroons? She ordered a dozen of the kind Boyd liked and a dozen mixed for herself. A change from her pajamas to red shorts, a white tank top over a red bra and red sneakers, as well as a quick make-up job, a spritz of perfume and she was out the door.
The hospital elevator stopped on the third floor and she made a turn, following the corridor toward Boyd’s room. Was she chasing after this guy like some needy female? He talked as if he was really into her, but was he? After all, they’d only met a few days ago. She glanced at the bag of boxed cookies. My God, she’d even gone out of her way to bring him his favorites. But, what if Captain Steele was teasing her, trying to make a fool of her? What if Boyd absolutely hated their cookies? She chewed her bottom lip; better to take them to work tomorrow and set the cookies out in the lunch room. Except, few of her co-workers would appreciate them. That was the thing.
She leaned against the edge of the open door to three-ten, working up the courage to peek in. If he was asleep, she’d just leave the cookies and run. Slowly she leaned around the doorjamb and peered in. His eyes were closed. His face was patched on one side. As quietly as she could, she set the bag on his nightstand and turned to leave. A wrist snaked out and grabbed her forearm.
Her head whipped around and gray eyes bore into hers. The heat of a blush traveled up her neck and across her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to waken you.”
“You didn’t.” His hand released hers and slid around her waist, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. “Your perfume did. Why did you wait so long to come in?” His gray gaze slid over her face. “I didn’t think women blushed anymore.” His perusal continued downward until it landed on her red lace bra under her tank top. “Why is it everything about you turns me on in a heartbeat?” He cleared his throat and exhaled a deep sigh.
“Please don’t tell me that pink and green bag is from Westside Bakery and has snicker doodles in it.” He entwined his fingers with hers and drew her to the bed next to his chest and she sat.
Quietly.
“Well?” His other hand swept her long hair before he cupped the back of her head and brought her face close to his. Their breaths mingled. Her lips were an inch away from his, and temptation’s fingers were pushing her closer.
“You asked me not to tell you.” She offered him a sly smile.
“Woman, you could drive a man mad.” He reached for the bag and shoved his hand in. His wide smile was a three-pointer from downtown. And she did love those three-pointers. What melted her heart even more, was he opened the box and offered her one first.
“The other box is for me. Chocolate chip pecan as well as coconut macaroons. The box you’re holding is all yours.”
He bite into one of his cookies and moaned.
She pulled her box out of the bag and opened it. “How’s Matt?”
“A nurse was kind enough to wheel me down to see him. He’s doing better. Poor kid got all upset when he saw my face. I told him a bedtime story. He’ll be here until his pneumonia clears up.”
“What did he say about your boo-boos?”
The corners of his lips lifted as did one dark eyebrow. “Boo-boos? Please tell me you’ve got experience at kissing boo-boos.”
She bit into a macaroon and chewed. Hmm, the coconut was very moist, just the way she liked it. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do. Even black eyes.”
He stopped chewing for a couple beats. “I don’t have a black eye.”
“Oh, but you do. Right here above your patch.” She poked it with her finger.
“Ow! You’re mean! You’re one of those mean lawyers.” She started laughing. He reached for another cookie and waved it around as he told her about going into the inferno after Dustin and the kid’s dad’s ball glove. He listed everything that went wrong on their way down the stairway. He wiggled his eyebrows. “So, I’ve got a lot of boo-boos that need kissed.”
Someone announced on the intercom that visiting hours were over. Boyd groaned.
“Don’t worry, Boyd. I won’t take your cookies away from you.”
“There’re two things I want from you before you leave. I want to hold you close so I can line my lungs with the smell of your perfume and I want a goodnight kiss.” His gray eyes darkened to stormy gray.
“I’ll hug you, but I never kiss a man on a first date.” Although, Lord knows I’d love a taste of your lips, cinnamon crumbs and all.
“But this isn’t a date. It’s an appreciation kiss for a cookie run.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her over him. She allowed him to nuzzle the sensitive part of her neck beneath her ear. Being held within the strength of his muscles was probably the sexiest thrill she’d ever had. He inhaled her essence, and it was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced because of the way he held her and groaned. Allowing him to kiss her would most definitely not be a good decision on her part.
She pulled back and cupped his one cheek. “Good night, Boyd. I’m glad Matt is doing better and I’m happy you’re not seriously hurt.”
He smiled wide and her heart turned over. “No kiss tonight?”
She patted his hard, muscled chest she’d just snuggl
ed against. “Not on your life. I don’t give them away freely.”
He pouted. “But I’ve got boo-boo’s.” He pointed with his index finger. “See this big scratch over my forehead into my hairline?”
She pressed a gentle kiss to it.
“I tore part of my earlobe away from my head. They had to stitch it back on. See?” Again, he pointed.
Oh, she could see where this was going. She kissed it and his arm slid around her back. The warmth from his large hand sending wake-up calls to her sex-starved hormones as he slowly circled across her waist and hips.
“And I have a little black eye that didn’t hurt at all until you poked your finger into it.”
“Oh, geesh, what a big baby.” She chuckled and kissed his eye, checking his mouth for any damages, just in case he tried any shenanigans there.
“And…and I bit the inside of my bottom lip.” Mr. Innocence pointed with his finger.
“Oh, you did not. Next thing you’ll be telling me you scratched your cock.” Oh, crap! I did not say that.
His face lit up. “Hey, I hadn’t thought of that, but…”
She covered his lips with hers for a second just to shut him up. Only the second dragged on for minutes—heavenly minutes. His tongue ran across her lips as a signal for her to open them and she did. Her tongue touched his and fireworks went off in her sex. He tasted of cinnamon and sugar and sin. Oh, dear Lord, could she get enough? Much more and she’d be in the hospital bed on top of him. “That’s it. I’m out of kisses. Finished. Kaput. Done.”
His calloused hand slowly slid up her arm, sending both chills and waves of heat over her body at the same time. “That was a cure-what-ales you kiss. Potent as hell. Safe travels home, Sweetness.”
She looked at her clasped hands. “I think we’re moving too fast. I want to get to know you better before this turns physical. I don’t go into relationships lightly.”
“However you want it. You want slow, we’ll go slow. It’s going to be hard for me to trust a woman again, but you have to know I’m very attracted to you. I enjoy your personality. It’s both sweet and sassy.”
She nodded and her gaze lifted to stare into his grey eyes. Her heart rolled over.
He smiled and winked. “Where do you get your coffee in the mornings?”
“Java Joes. Why?” If he thought she was going to bring him fresh coffee on her way to work, he was out of his freaking mind.
“I’d like hazelnut, tall, with half and half. A copy of “The Tampa Bay Times” and a pumpkin muffin.”
She braced her hands on her hips and leaned down. “Mister, if you’re looking for a Sugar Momma, you’ve missed your mark. A tall hazelnut and a pumpkin muffin…what do I look like? Boyd’s private food delivery?”
He smirked as if he wanted to say something as he reached and opened the drawer to his nightstand. He pulled out a money clip with an emblem that read, “Clearwater’s Fireman of the Year” and peeled off a twenty dollar bill. “Here. Let me treat you to your morning cup of coffee. And from here on out, don’t ask me a question you don’t want me to answer.”
Somewhat chagrinned, she took the money. “What…what question did I ask?”
“You asked me what you looked like. I wanted to tell you that you looked vibrant as hell when you’re pissed about something. That you’re one gorgeous woman. And I can’t wait until I have you under me, over me, up against the wall and bending over the kitchen table.”
Holy Shit!
She glanced down and saw his erection tenting the sheet.
Too bad he didn’t scratch his cock, because I wouldn’t mind kissing all of that. Yeah, so much for my speech about taking things slow.
“I…I better say goodnight.”
He’d obviously noticed where she’d been staring. “Goodnight, babe.” His voice held a tender intimacy she’d not heard before. She leaned over him again and hugged him. “Get well, big guy.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Graci-Ella was like a burst of sunshine when she waltzed into his room the next morning, wearing a yellow ruffled top with a wide yellow belt and a black tight skirt. Her stilettoes were black. Everything about her stirred his libido, even the way she had her dark hair in one long braid.
It didn’t escape Boyd that she looked tense. Their almost instant attraction probably had her spooked the way it did him. And her seeing his raging hard-on last night was a little embarrassing in the light of day, especially since he’d sported a woody as soon as she walked in this morning. Christ, he was worse than a teenager. He raised his one knee to try to hide it under the wrinkled sheets. “Good morning, Sweetness. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. I’m not used to compliments, but I’ll take it just the same.” She smiled and set his large coffee on his nightstand along with the pumpkin pastry. “Do you know how many calories are in one of those big top muffins?” Her eyebrow arched as she handed him the newspaper.
“I’ll work the calories off.” Fuck, how he wanted to tell her how he’d like to work them off making slow love to her. Then again, he’d pretty much told her that last night.
Her mind must have traveled down the same path for her cheeks blushed the prettiest color. “Well, ah…I need to get to the office. I’m in court today, defending clients I don’t approve of and I know I shouldn’t say that. But the law says we’re all owed due process. These are a slimy bunch of car thieves who deserve a kick in the pants in my humble opinion. But my bosses take on these cases and then hand them off to flunkies like me.” She brushed an errant strand of hair off her cheek. “I’m sorry. So often justice swings the wrong way.”
“It’s a little early in your career to be so jaded.” He tugged the plastic lid off his coffee, the fragrant steam rolled out.
“There are times I wish I’d gone into photography, but I’d have hurt my parents. Besides, you have to be really good with a camera to make a career with it.”
“Graci-Ella, I think you’d be damned good at anything you put your mind to.” His gaze locked on her blue eyes and her plump lips. God, how he wanted to pull her to him and hold her for a while. Something in her career was making her unhappy. “Thank you for the coffee and calories. You have a good day, Sweetness.”
She nodded, leaned over and, cupped his face, kissing him quickly, before hurrying off.
At lunchtime, hurried footfalls and bursts of gas headed for his room. “Which room is our boy in? Name’s Boyd Calloway. He’s our adopted son.” Boyd knew who was coming. Two elderly men his squad had adopted—Milt, known as Gas Ass, and Sam, referred to as Hell’s Bells. They lived in a world of their own but, damn, everyone at the station loved them to death. Milt was excitable, nosy and eager to help. Sam, whose daughter Molly was married to fellow fireman, Barclay, was under medication for the early stages of dementia. The two old men were thick as gray, wrinkled thieves.
Milt passed gas as he rounded the corner. “How come we had to hear on the news you were hurt and in the hospital?” His fists grabbed his belt and hiked up his pants. “We didn’t even hear from Sam’s son-in-law, Barclay, until this morning. I looked at Sam and said, ‘Put your teeth in. We’re going to the hospital to check on our boy and raise hell about why you didn’t call us.’ Are we family, or not?” The red-faced, skinny old man was puffing, no doubt from the exertion of getting there. He collapsed into a chair and put-putted some more.
“I don’t have my phone, Gas Ass. We don’t take them along to fires because the heat will melt them. I’m sorry no one thought to call you last night. I’m thinking the crew stayed on the scene until late in case timbers caught fire again. That’s often standard procedure when the fire’s bad—and that one was.”
Milt huffed, somewhat mollified. “Well, okay then. You know how we worry, you guys being in dangerous work, and all.”
Boyd turned his attention to Sam, who’d already slumped into a wooden chair and whose face was white. “Did Gas Ass drive here like a maniac?”
“Oh, hell’s bells!” Sam remo
ved his “Grandpa” ball cap and wiped sweat off his nearly baldhead with his handkerchief. “He honked his horn and cussed a policeman who didn’t use a turn signal to make a turn. Ran an old woman in a new Cadillac off the road. Drove over the sidewalk twice, sparks flying from his undercarriage.” Sam scowled at Milt. “And I ain’t talkin’ about his car, neither.”
Boyd held his stomach as he laughed at those two old coots. Was it any wonder Milt and Sam had become the station’s human mascots?
“We bought some little toys for Matt.” Milt held up a bag. “Matchbox cars and fire trucks. How’s he doin’? What room is he in?”
“Two-twenty-nine. I got to see him for a little while this morning. He seemed to breathe easier. Thanks, guys, for thinking of us.”
Milt perked up. “Hey, you need a ride home? We’ll come get you. Be right honored to do so. Be our pleasure to take care of one of our boys, won’t it, Sam?”
Sam leaned toward Boyd. “You ain’t got a bad heart, does ya?”
“I appreciate your offer, Milt, but my aunt Jinny’s coming to get me. She lives a few doors up from where I do.” Would be nice to have Graci-Ella take him home, but she’d be at work. He better fill in the guys. “Got some news for you. Something I haven’t shared with the squad yet.”
Both old codgers leaned forward, obviously pleased they were getting a scoop.
“You know I haven’t dated because of the custody hearing coming up.” Two bald heads nodded. “I met someone.”
“You hear that, Sam? Our boy’s found himself a woman. What’s she like?”
“Gorgeous, tall, the bluest eyes you ever saw and a smile that’s brighter than sunlight. She’s a lawyer and does photography on the side. Her name’s Graci-Ella.”
“Pretty name, huh, Milt?” Sam settled his hat on his head and beamed a smile.
He might as well put the icing on the gossip cake for he knew the two would leave the hospital and drop by the station. “Don’t say anything to the squad yet. They might have their suspicions, but we just decided to start dating. And we’re both a little wary about it just yet. Dating at our age, with a child involved, can be a big step. Right?”
