by Vonnie Davis
Milt passed gas and nodded. “I see your point. We won’t tell a soul.”
“Mums the word.” Sam made a zipping motion across his lips.
Both men started making excuses to leave and Boyd could barely keep from laughing. He’d lay bet as soon as they gave Matt his present, they’d be headed for Station 32. “Our squad’s off duty now.” Both faces drooped. “Matt will be glad to see the both of you. I can’t tell you how much you guys mean to him.”
Milt’s pigeon chest puffed out. “Ya hear that, Sam? Let’s go down and entertain the little fella.”
As soon as the senior citizens left, Boyd reached for the phone beside his bed and called Graci-Ella, hoping he’d memorized her cell number correctly. He got her voicemail.
“Sweetness, if you come by the hospital to see me, I’ll share my gourmet hospital supper with you. There might be a kiss for dessert. Okay, there will most definitely be a kiss for dessert. Hope your trial case went well.”
Shortly after six, a hand holding a bag from Crabby Joes waved up and down the edge of his open door.
“Do I get a kiss with that?” He slid up in his bed.
“Nope. Just fries.”
“I damn well better get a kiss.”
She strutted in and set the bag and drinks on the movable table. “How are you feeling, big guy?”
He pointed to his lips.
She rolled her eyes and leaned over him. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her over him before he partially rolled on top of her. He slid his hand down her thighs and calves, tossing her black heels onto the floor. His fingertips trailed over her forehead and her eyes closed. He pressed a gentle kiss to each one. “You look tired, Sweetness.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back as she snuggled closer and exhaled a huge sigh. “Tell me about your day.”
“Our food will get cold.” She kissed his neck.
“Give me the highlights first, then we’ll eat and you can fill in the details.” He rubbed his cheek against hers. “I hate seeing you so exhausted.”
“Court plays me out mentally and emotionally when it’s a difficult case to defend. Losing is never an option, not if I want to get ahead and make my parents proud.”
Boyd pulled back and looked at her. “Isn’t being the wonderful woman you are enough to make them proud?” What the hell kind of people were they?
Tears pooled and she rubbed her face against his neck, her arms tightened around his neck. Now was not the time to query her. She needed to get her mind off her rough day. After a few light kisses, they ate their soft crab sandwiches and Old Bay French fries. He told her about the visit with Milt and Sam. She smiled and asked questions about the two men. At last he could sense her relaxing.
He crumpled their trash and threw it in the wastepaper can. Trailing his fingertips over her face, he kissed her temple. “Sweetness, I want you to go to your place and get some rest. I’ll be going home tomorrow. Would you like to go out to supper with me? Or, if you prefer, a picnic on the beach at sunset and a walk along the shoreline?”
“Oh, the picnic while we watch the sunset sounds great.”
He kissed both of her hands. “We’ll text about the time I should pick you up.”
She was almost through the door when she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “You never asked if I won or lost my case today.”
“I figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me. Having you with me for an hour or so meant more to me than whether you won a case. You’re a winner as a person. That’s what matters.”
She smiled and walked out as she said, “Thanks, big guy.”
CHAPTER NINE
Matt had come home from the hospital with Boyd around noon. They’d played Wii games for two hours before Boyd put him to bed and read him book after book. Both napped. Aunt Jinny came over with two picnic dinners. One for her and Matt to eat on the patio, and one for him and Graci-Ella to enjoy on the beach.
Boyd rang her doorbell and could barely think of a coherent greeting when Graci-Ella opened the door in a one-piece, hot pink swimsuit with a sheer pink and lime green floral wrap tied at her waist and kissing her ankles. Her brunette hair was tied into a ponytail with a pink ribbon. The woman could be a model on a runway. She smiled and he forced out, “Hey.”
“Did your aunt pack wine? I have a bottle and some plastic goblets, if she didn’t.”
“She stuck in a couple bottles of water, so some wine to sip as the sun sets would be great.” The vision in pink grabbed a bottle in an insulated bag and some unbreakable glasses. She held her hand out for him to hold, but it was her whole body he wanted—needed.
He helped her into his Mustang and leaned in to buckle her seatbelt and kiss her forehead, lips and the curve of her neck before he closed her door. He pulled onto route 60 and sped toward Clearwater Beach. He hung a left onto South Gulfview Boulevard and pulled into a fairly deserted spot along the beach.
They spread a blanket at the base of a palm tree, and she kicked off their sandals. Boyd kept his sneakers on to protect his foot from sand. While they ate, they talked about their growing up years. How he ended up as a fireman and why she left Maryland to come to Florida. He opened the wine as the red ball of the sun rested for a few minutes on the watery horizon of the Gulf of Mexico. They sipped their wine and drank from each other’s mouths.
“This is so romantic,” she breathed as the sun sank below the horizon, turning the sky orange, pink and purple.
“Being alone with you is what’s romantic, Sweetness.” He lay flat on the blanket and she lay on top of him while they exchanged more kisses and caresses. Their passion grew and he pulled down the strap of her swimsuit and kissed her breast, drawing her nipple into his mouth. God, how he wanted her, but not out here where someone might see his woman or hear her scream as he brought her to climax. She was his; privately his. And he cherished her.
Boyd was positive he walked without a limp when he reported to work two days after he’d been discharged from the hospital. He’d been chomping at the bit to return to his job.
Jace glanced over his shoulder as he made a fresh pot of coffee. “Hey! Tiny’s back!”
The squad chanted “Where’s Tiny?” Then answered, “In the basement, doing laundry,” referring to his falling through the floor and landing on the washer and dryer in the burning house.
He shook his head and grinned. Man, it was good to be back with this batch of misfits. They kept his mind off things, like his upcoming trial and the brunette he’d held in his arms to watch the sunset the other evening. He knocked on Captain Steele’s office door.
“Enter. Unless you’re Boyd Calloway trying to pretend you’re okay and ready to come back to work. ’Cause I ain’t believin’ that shit.”
Boyd opened the door and grinned. “Now, boss, you know you missed me.”
The captain sipped from his coffee mug and pointed to an empty chair in front of his desk. “Yeah. Like a hemorrhoid I had to have burned off with a blow torch.” Boyd sat while the captain narrowed his eyes. “You still got a limp.”
“The hell I do. Matt’s back at school and I’m cleared for work.”
“By who? Wanda, the Witchdoctor? Let me see the form declaring you fit for duty.” He held out his hand.
Boyd gave him the paper and the captain scanned over it. “Says you’re cleared for light labor for two weeks. That means you can help with general office work and cleaning equipment while sitting down. And…” the captain pointed a finger, “…if you don’t whine your ass off, I’ll allow you to help Graci-Ella with the calendar project.”
Boyd knew when he was being railroaded. “Just what are you up to?”
The captain leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his neck. “Looks like you put on some weight while you were off. You haven’t been eating a lot of snicker doodles, have you?” No doubt knowing he’d hit a soft spot, he sat forward and gulped his coffee.
“You!” Boyd exploded. “You were behind her coming to the hospital w
ith my favorite cookies, looking sexy as hell in that red lace bra.”
Captain spewed coffee over his desk and pristine shirt. “Hell! A red lace bra? Well, do tell.” He held up three fingers. “And scout’s honor, I won’t repeat a word to a soul in the squad.” He grabbed a rag to blot his shirt and wipe off his desk top.
Boyd stood, ashamed of his slip of the tongue. “You can kiss my ass. I’m not telling you a word about her. Where do you want me to start working?”
By his nonstop laughter, the captain was right proud of himself. “Use a stool and scrub down ambulance number three. Use a long-handled brush on the high sections and top. Shine all the chrome.”
“You got it.” He turned to exit the captain’s office and noticed the door was cracked open about an inch. He passed by Darryl, who was filling the copier, that sat outside the door, with paper. Darryl glared at Boyd as he passed as if that was supposed to make him tremble with fear.
Time passed as a few of the crew stopped to inquire about Matt. It wasn’t long until the guys didn’t do much talking. They just stood there watching him, with ear to ear grins. Every once in a while, one would remark that they sure could eat a cookie.
Boyd stood, stretched his back and headed for the captain’s office. He’d promised Boyd he wouldn’t say a word about their previous conversation. As he passed the restrooms, a poster printed with a red, lace bra on a voluptuous, headless body along with the words, “No wonder Tiny healed so fast with his favorite cookies delivered by a certain brunette wearing a sexy red bra.”
He jerked it down. Yanked an identical one off the shower room doors as well as the entrance to the captain’s office. Boyd knocked on Noah’s door and waited for the captain’s typical “Enter” before he barged in, waving the papers. “Damn you! You told me you wouldn’t say a word.”
Captain Noah Steele had a way of puffing himself up when he was confronted about something. “What the hell are you ranting about?”
Boyd handed him one of the posters. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t make these up? You’re the only one I slipped up with and mentioned the red bra. It had to be you.”
The captain scanned the page. “Hell, man. I didn’t do this. I might verbally tease the hell out of somebody, but this is too far. Someone must have overheard our conversation. I don’t agree with this shit. Are there any more?” He rounded his desk, and both men went on a scavenger hunt. Boyd spied one taped to the microwave and the refrigerator. The captain located another tacked to a piece of cardboard on top of the big screen television. “I’m gonna grind someone’s ass when I find out who printed these up. That’s the bad part of having free access to the computers in the lounge area. God knows what all gets done or seen.”
A call came in for the marine rescue team; a boat was stuck on a sandbar. Wolf, commander of the rescue team, took Jace in Boyd’s place. Wolf and Barclay did the diving. Quinn drove the rescue craft and Boyd normally handled any heavy equipment or bodies as they pulled them out of the water. Being left behind didn’t help his mood any.
As soon as he had the ambulance shining, he went to the kitchen to see if he could help with supper. Emily, who was checking chickens in three crockpots, jerked her thumb toward the two bags of apples on the counter. “You can peel those apples to put in a pan along with butter, brown sugar and cinnamon. I’ll scrub potatoes to bake. Might as well fill both ovens.”
Emily glanced over her shoulder. “I plan on making a big casserole of baked beans. Gas Ass and Sam are coming for supper tonight.”
“You’re a demon. Doesn’t the old man fart enough?”
She nodded, her mass of short red curls bobbing. “I’ve never heard anyone pass gas almost as continually as him. Honest to Pete, if he were a balloon, he’d be halfway across the Gulf Bay by now. If he’d only learn to leave those pork rinds alone. They’re not good for him. Hey, how’s your foot doing?”
“I don’t see why everyone’s making such a big fuss out of it. Hell, it’s only a little nail hole.” He yanked a big bowl from the cabinet and a large baking pan beside it. He was about halfway through the second bag when he heard the marine rescue team return downstairs, laughing and teasing each other. Evidently things had gone well.
The side door alarm buzzed and Emily jogged to let in whoever was there. “Hey! Wasn’t expecting you tonight. Come on in.”
“I thought I’d stop by to see who all turned in their significant others’ signed agreement papers. Captain Steele called to say everyone who was going to participate had turned them in. Once I see who all’s onboard, I’ll know what months I’ll want to assign them and how I want to photograph each man.”
Boyd pointed to his lips and Graci-Ella rolled her eyes before leaning to give him a peck on the lips. She slapped a permission form down in front of him with her signature signed in a bold purple marker. “There’s yours, big guy.”
He stared at it, absorbed the meaning of her signing one for him and warmed up inside. “I’ll be sure to give it to the boss.”
Her palm rested on his shoulder. “How’s your first day back at work going?”
He wrapped his hands around her waist and set her on his lap. “I’m only half back. I’m on light duty. Cleaning equipment, cooking and office odds and ends for the chief.” He stared into her pretty blue eyes. If he had to spend much time around her, he’d be a goner.
Yeah, as if I’m not already.
“Smells like chicken in the crockpots.” She stood and sauntered toward them in a pair of pale blue, ankle strap stilettoes that matched the top she wore with her dark blue skirt, which was barely a swath of material. Lord, the woman had legs that went to her waist. Not those skinny peg legs either, but firm, fleshy thighs. The kind a man wanted to kiss until he reached paradise.
She stopped and stared at something hanging from the potted plant at the window.
Damn it to hell. Those red bra posters. I missed that one.
She ripped the paper off the plant and whirled toward him. Her blue eyes held pain before they flashed cobalt with anger as she tore the poster into pieces.
Why did he suddenly feel Graci-Ella was not a woman to mess with when she was pissed? By the time she got back to the table where he sat, her hands were fisted around scraps of paper. “Did you find my late night cookie run a joke? My attire something to boast to all the guys about? You and your top notch fire station can go to hell. I’ve worked too hard to be made fun of, Tiny.” And there was something about the way she spat the name Tiny that sent his irritability up a notch or two. Hell, he’d never do such a thing to disrespect her.
“Look, Ms.-Temper-Tantrum, I didn’t have anything to do with those posters. I did leave it slip to the captain about your bra, but it slipped out before I knew it. Someone must have overheard me.”
Graci-Ella reared back like a boa-constrictor, ready to attack, spun and charged for Captain Steele’s workplace. The sound of a feminine growl floated around the corner, as she tore another poster from his door before bursting in. Who the hell had put another one there?
“Most people knock before they barge into my space, young lady.” The door slammed and raised voices filtered from the office.
Emily shoved Boyd’s arm. “You better haul ass in there before those two come to blows. You need to state your side of things. Take her someplace private and smooth out the situation. Take it from me, women don’t appreciate that kind of shit. And how I missed that paper while I was getting the chickens ready for the crockpot is beyond me.” Emily eased the paring knife from Boyd’s grip. “Her feelings are hurt, Tiny. You need to soothe them. Show her you’ll take care of her, because that’s what a man does.”
When the voices emanating from the captain’s office hit a higher octave, Boyd hurried to the point of origin and surged in. He didn’t want Graci-Ella bellowed at like that.
Captain Steele threw up his hands in disgust as Boyd charged in. “Doesn’t anyone knock on my door anymore? Hell, I might as well take it off the freaking hin
ges.”
“I don’t want her yelled at. I’m the one who wasn’t in control of my mouth this morning and let it slip about the red lace bra. Hell, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind.” He turned his gaze at Graci-Ella, who had her back to both of the men. “I’m sorry. I had no idea what would happen.”
“And I didn’t make them, but I’ll find out who did.” Noah jammed his hands in his pockets to jingle his change. “This is a high-stress job, Graci-Ella. We reduce those levels by teasing and harassing each other. That’s why the nicknames. The games. But those signs went too far and I apologize for that.”
Boyd saw tears hanging onto her eyelashes when she turned around. The urge to protect her raged through his system.
She wouldn’t look at him, but spoke to Noah instead. “I still can’t complete the job. How can I get the best photos out of the men when they don’t respect me? When they’ll be wondering or asking what color bra I’m wearing. I’ll either go to a different station or pay for another photographer.”
“Captain, would you mind going for a walk so Graci-Ella and I can iron this out in private?” Boyd hoped he could get her to listen and understand how his verbal blunder was just that—a slip of the tongue.
The door clicked shut, and Boyd ran his fingers through his hair, hoping like hell he’d find the right words. “I’m sorry, Graci-Ella. Surely by now, you know I think you’re pretty special.” He wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “I wouldn’t have you hurt for the world.” He kissed one eye and then the other. “Don’t cry, Sweetness.”
She narrowed her eyes and gave him a skeptical scowl. He’d better continue talking to keep her mind off how pissed she was. “When I returned to work, I was hoping the captain wouldn’t ask for the forms from the doctor. I just wanted to dive back into my normal routine because I haven’t been right since I first laid eyes on you. God, you’re gorgeous.” He glanced at his feet. “And nice. Very nice to bring me my favorite cookies from my favorite bakery. And at night too. I mean, you kissed all my boo-boos. Then you were doubly nice the next morning to bring me my favorite coffee, muffin and a paper so I had something to read. You sure looked beautiful in that yellow and black dress. And I don’t know where you’ve been buying those sexy as hell shoes, but I want to buy stock in the company.”
