Two Hearts Rescue: Park City Firefighter Romance

by Daniel Banner

  Two Hearts Rescue

  Daniel Banner

  Vorpal Words

  Contents

  Foreword

  INTRODUCTION by Daniel Banner

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  Playlist for Two Hearts Rescue

  Sample Chapter from Rescue My Heart

  Sample Chapter from Rescue Me

  Sample Chapter from Rescued by Love

  Foreword

  We see firefighters on TV and in movies risking their lives on a daily basis. Through years of friendship with Daniel Banner, and dozens of conversations about what it's really like to be a fireman, I've learned the hard part about the job has much more to do with the repetitive stress of always being in the middle of someone else's emergency.

  It is the long nights with no sleep while being expected to perform perfectly while lives are on the line. It's living with up to ten other men and women just as worn out and broken as you in a station away from home. It is being up close and personal with a dead or dying child who reminds you way too much of your youngest.

  All of these issues bleed over into relationships, for in love, we take the good with the bad, and there is more to firefighters than big muscles and ash-stained cheeks. You can't see so much darkness without it affecting you and your loved ones, but these amazing individuals rise above that stress and heartache to give us all hope when we need it the most.

  I feel blessed to associate with someone as talented, smart, and hard-working as Daniel. He is my editor, my friend, and one of my personal heroes. His addition to the Park City Firefighter series hit home to me as the characters were real and flawed, but could also find humor and love in hard situations. I’m certain you’ll recognize the insight and expertise of a longtime firefighter and writer in this fabulous heartfelt story, Two Hearts Rescue.

  Cami Checketts, author of the Billionaire Bride Pact Romances

  INTRODUCTION by Daniel Banner

  A Conversation from Summer 2016

  3 Bestselling Authors (Checketts, Hart, and Kersey): Hey Daniel, we’re writing a firefighter romance series. Do you want—

  Me (on the inside): Yes I totally do, oh, I can’t wait, how long should my book be, when should I have it done holy cow you ladies are the greatest ever of all time!

  Me (on the outside): Cool. Why me?

  3 Bestselling Authors: You’re a firefighter. Oh, and uh, you have mad writing and editing skills.

  3 Bestselling Authors (to each other): Should we tell him Nicolas Sparks wasn’t available?

  Six months, seven million emails, and dozens of interviews later, four Park City Firefighter Romance books are ready to thrill you, touch you, inspire you, and make you swoon.

  In my 15 years on the job, I’ve worked side-by-side with over a thousand of America’s Bravest. The men and women I’ve known make excellent studies for romance characters because they are fit, selfless, daring, passionate and without exception—imperfect. Kersey, Hart, and Checketts (dare I include myself?) have captured the essence of the beautifully flawed lives that so often result from a career that injects its members into the public’s worst day. When true love is added to the mix, sparks fly and things really heat up.

  Experience the bravery, the struggle, the emotional pain, and the passion of heroes as they face their fears, their demons, and their pasts en route to finding lasting love. It may just surprise you who is the hero and who is the one in need of rescue.

  It is my pleasure to introduce the Park City Firefighter Romance Series.

  Daniel Banner

  Two Hearts Rescue: Park City Firefighters Romance

  p.s. You can find sample chapters from the other books in the series at the end of this book! Also, check out the Two Hearts Rescue playlist at the end of the book as well.

  All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. No resemblances is intended to persons living, dead, or otherwise.

  Two Hearts Rescue

  Copyright © 2017 by Daniel Coleman

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ASIN: B01MS0G2H6

  Cover by Novak Illustration

  www.DColemanBooks.com

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Poppy Mercier stared down her enemy. “I own you,” she said, eyes held steady. “Today you’re going to be the one in pain.”

  The treadmill stared back, its beady little red and green flashing lights taunting her, daring her to bring it.

  “Oh, I’ll bring it,” said Poppy. “I’ll make you wish—”

  “Everything okay?” asked a gym employee, who had been working her way up the machines wiping them down. Her name tag read, “Alta.”

  Poppy cleared her throat and stepped up onto the treadmill. With an embarrassed grin, she said, “Y-yeah, sorry about that. Just psyching myself up.”

  “I hear you,” said Alta. “Sometimes you gotta let them know who’s boss.” She was medium-height, a few inches taller than Poppy, had gorgeous mocha skin, and a body that made it clear she showed the machines who was boss on a regular basis.

  “Here’s goes nothing,” exhaled Poppy, then held the up arrow and the belt picked up speed. She always used the manual option for speed and incline because she hated it when the stupid machines demanded she input her weight. It was none of their business.

  At 3.3 mph Poppy had to jog to keep up. Dang her short legs. At 6.0 she pulled her finger from the button and resisted the urge to use the handrails like an old woman with a walker.

  This wasn’t too bad. She could keep this speed for 3.1 miles. It was her first day as a member of the gym. Hopefully the monthly fee would be enough to motivate her to finally keep going with a workout plan for once. If she could just drop ten to fifteen, then keep them off …

  New city—well, old city second time around—new lifestyle, new body? The spirit was willing but the flesh was, the flesh was severely lacking oxygen and Poppy’s second wind was nowhere in sight. Any second now, she told herself. Push through. Even the voice in her head was out of breath.

  She stared straight ahead at the pillar in front of the treadmill. She had picked this particular machine because it was the only one with an obstructed view of the enormous mirrors.

  Don’t check the distance yet. A little farther.

  With things so slow at the shelter, Daria could hold down the fort for an hour. Once Poppy got a few days into a habit of working out, she could take the next step and drag her butt out of bed early enough to come before the shelter opened.

  A line of TVs displayed various sports shows and middle of the day talk shows. Neither held any interest for Poppy, so she put her wireless headphones in and resumed her Cami Checketts suspense novel.

  As she set her phone back into the cup holder on the treadmill, Poppy accidentally glimpsed the display: .09. Not even a tenth of a mile. The self-inflicted a
gony was going to last all day. But she couldn’t take all day, she had to get back to shelter.

  She also couldn’t keep up this pace. If she died on this treadmill she’d leave exactly 27 animals hanging. For the sake of the animals, Poppy decreased the speed to 5.8. It still felt incredibly fast, but it was slower than a ten-minute mile.

  It had to be the elevation. Yeah, that was right, the elevation.

  A bright red vehicle passed in front of the gym’s windows. Poppy looked up to see a fire truck and an ambulance pass slowly right along the curb. Was something wrong? Maybe she couldn’t hear the alarm over her audiobook. She pulled out one earbud and looked around for flashing warning lights and saw everyone in the gym just carrying on with their workouts.

  The sound of doors slamming outside had to come from the fire trucks. Maybe someone had called 9-1-1 because Poppy looked as unwell as she felt. Poppy gripped the handrail and leaned to the side. Her hair was still in its ponytail but her face was only a few shades shy of heat stroke.

  The gym doors opened and a group of firemen came in. Nope, one of them was a female, so she guessed that made them firefighters? They were all dressed in gym shorts and fire department t-shirts, and the only equipment they carried was radios. It didn’t appear to be an emergency.

  They could have been straight out of a beer commercial. One guy was gray-haired and one was, well, for lack of a better word, fat, but as a group they were smokin’. If she hadn’t seen the Park City Fire Department vehicles pull up, she would have wondered if they were here to pose for a photo shoot. Between the six of them, they had some serious muscle and fitness going on.

  It was the last one through the door who really caught her eye. He wasn’t a muscle head like a couple of them, but his chiseled face and prominent cheek bones gave him a rugged handsomeness. His dark hair was buzzed on the sides, but more than long enough to run a hand through on the top.

  After taking a couple steps into the gym, the fireman looked directly at Poppy, as if sensing her eyes on him. Their eyes met, introduced themselves. They didn’t slide off of each other and go on their way. Her eyes and his eyes said hello, sat down for a speed-date, and ended up having a lengthy conversation, backing up all the other speed daters but still not parting ways until the event coordinator was summoned to force them apart. It was much more intimate than she was comfortable with a perfect stranger, but it still took effort to pull her eyes away.

  Is it hot in here? wondered Poppy. She looked down at her phone and reached for it so she could rewind the book … and next thing she knew she was head over heels, executing a perfectly awkward and painful dismount from the treadmill. One second she was running for her life, the next she was laying on the ground, butt in the air, staring up at her knees. The treadmill was still running, grinding against her bare back and trying to rub all of the skin off.

  Oh good, at least her shirt had nearly come completely off in the display of grace.

  Poppy found herself chuckling through her grimace as she pushed away from the belt of the treadmill. In the face of pain that would break most POWs, she could either laugh or shout every swear word she knew at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t extricate herself from the awkward position, just push off enough to prevent third-degree abrasions. Hopefully.

  A few second later someone ran up, hit the emergency stop, and braced her until the torture device stopped spinning its belt.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” grunted Poppy. “I was kind of looking forward to having my back covered in skin grafts.”

  “Here,” said a man’s voice. A hand reached through her tangle of legs and grabbed her hand. It was a man’s hand for sure, solid and much larger than hers. “Lean to your left and we’ll get you right-side up.” Another hand rested against her knee and moving in harmony, they guided her so that she was lying on her side, finally able to breathe normally.

  Poppy’s ponytail had exploded and her hair now obscured everything. “Maybe I’ll just breathe for a minute?” It was impossible to tell if the labored breathing was due to the exercise or the feat of unimaginable poise.

  “Let me just …” Someone started adjusting her shirt, pulling it down over what Poppy’s mother referred to as her “disproportionate roundness”.

  “Okay, then,” said Poppy, shooting up to a sitting position, realizing abruptly how exposed she was. She did a quick check to make sure her sports bra hadn’t somehow been splattered across the wall behind her, and breathed a little easier when her hand brushed the strap. While she pulled her shirt to a state of public decency, she flipped her head back to clear her hair out of her eyes.

  It smacked the hot fireman in the face. The hot one with the eyes.

  For a second he sat there, eyes closed, mouth open. Stunned. Then he lifted an arm to wipe the residue of her sweaty hair off of his face.

  Nice one, Poppy. You’ve reached an entirely new level of smooth.

  “Well, Cap,” said the huge-fat fireman to the huge-muscular fireman. “Looks like Booter gets to fill out his first exposure report when we get back.”

  “Funny, JFK,” said the man she had drenched with her mop. Looking back at her, he said, “I’m Slade. I’m an EMT. Did you hurt yourself?” He was crouching next to her as the rest of his crew gathered behind him.

  Poppy somehow looked away from his dark blue eyes. “Hurt myself? What do you mean? Isn’t that how everyone dismounts from these instruments of torture?” The abrasion on her back stung, especially with her sweaty shirt laying across it, but there was nothing the fireman could do about the pain.

  “It’s one way to do it,” said Slade. “I won’t judge. Here, lean back against the wall.” He had a small grin on his face and Poppy realized she was smiling through the blush on her own face.

  With his help, Poppy was able to relax against the wall, keeping the raw skin on her lower back arched away. “I’ll just finish my workout down here. Since you didn’t let me complete the dermabrasion session.”

  “She seems fine,” said the one Slade had called JFK.

  When Slade looked over his shoulder at him, Poppy couldn’t prevent her eyes from quickly dipping to Slade’s arms. The t-shirt wasn’t skin tight, but it was tight enough to tell that the gym wasn’t the torture chamber to him that it was to her. Was he flexing? He had to be flexing.

  As he turned back to Poppy she brought her eyes up to his face.

  “Would you like me to check you out?” he asked.

  Check you out? Had he noticed the way she had ogled him when she thought she could get away with it? As in, My eyes are up here, ma’am. The lady firefighter and the muscle head looked at each other, focusing.

  Oh no. They saw me checking him out.

  The muscle head bent his ear toward the radio, which was blaring something that Poppy couldn’t follow. “That’s us,” he said.

  The female nodded. “Behind the Rite-Aid.”

  They all started jogging toward the exit. Except for Slade, who was still looking at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can send another unit to that call if you need us.”

  From the doors of the gym, JFK yelled back, “Get on the rig, Boot!”

  Slade didn’t budge, still waiting on her expectantly.

  “Go,” said Poppy, smiling and hoping it looked thankful and not like a creepy Joker smile. “I’m fine.”

  “Okay,” said Slade, rising. “Call us back if you change your mind. You know our number.”

  She watched him jog with the grace of a dancer to the door. Oh man did she watch him. Why, in the name of all the exercise gods, did that have to happen at that moment? Riding the treadmill wave like an epileptic cow in front of the gym-goers was bad enough. But no, that wasn’t good enough for Poppy Mercier. She had to do it in front of a gaggle of good looking men. A herd of hotties. A flock of fire—

  “Can I give you a hand up?” Alta was back, offering a hand.

  Nice of her to wait until Poppy was done admiring Park City’s Finest. No wait, Finest
was for police, wasn’t it? These guys were the Bravest. Though Poppy hadn’t met many finer than that Slade.

  “I love it when they come in,” said Alta with a sly smile, helping Poppy to her feet.

  “Oh, they’re regulars?” Poppy tried to sound casual.

  “Yeah, they come in and play wallyball about once a week.”

  “Oh good,” said Poppy. “I think that dismount was only about an eight-point-five. Next week I think I can pull off a ten if I land face down on the treadmill instead of head down on the ground.” She reached up and felt the goose egg forming on the back of her head. At least she hadn’t cracked her head all the way open. But hey, Slade would be back in a week or so. That might be enough extra motivation to keep Poppy coming back here.

  “It looked pretty painful,” said Alta.

  “Yeah, but in an agile, attractive sort of way, right?” The sting of sweat on raw skin hadn’t faded much.

  Alta laughed. “Yeah, you were as nimble as an elephant in ice skates.”

  “My mother’s right.” Poppy groaned. “I’ll die single for sure.”

  Alta laughed again. “There’s no way. A funny girl like you with such a gorgeous smile? How have you not been scooped up yet?”

  It was no surprise to Poppy that she was single, but it also wasn’t the time to recite the Litany of Lack. “That’s nice of you to say.” Especially since you look like you should be on a magazine cover.

  “Are you feeling alright?” asked Alta. “Need to sit down, or need someone to check you out?”

  “I think everyone in the gym already saw more of me than they wanted to.” When she made it back to the shelter, Daria could bandage up the abrasion.

  “Okay. I have some first aid training, and they give all of us a concussion class when we start working here, so I know a little bit about some danger signs.”