He wished he could help her out with the animal rescue, but his budget as a new firefighter was even tighter than it had been as an officer in the Army. Based on his experience as a project coordinator, he had a few ideas about how to help her find some money, but they were all long term. Nothing that would feed half a dozen horses this week.
The Sundry International meeting could have been a major inroad to a more flexible budget, but after cancelling literally at the last minute, there was no saying if he would get another crack at being their grant writer. If another chance ever came up, there was no way they would come back to Park City. But what was he supposed to do when someone in distress called out of the blue? He was a firefighter, right?
Not if you don’t finish this test, he told himself and focused on question 48.
Dropping everything didn’t have anything to do with the feelings he had for Poppy. That path led to pain and heartache. He was just doing what any decent human being would do for someone in distress. Especially someone with a magic smile.
That smile though. He’d thought about kissing her plenty of times, but it hadn’t been too hard to resist. For one thing, the thought of kissing anyone caused his heart to sting. It wasn’t just mental, either. He could actually feel the prick of a poison needle when he thought about that kind of intimacy. The real reason he was able to resist, though, was because he was sure it would be disappointing. With lips and smile like Poppy’s, he was sure a kiss would be disappointing. How could it ever make him feel as good as seeing her smile did?
Boy had he been wrong.
In the half a second that kiss lasted, he felt things he hadn’t felt since Jenny. Maybe even more than he had ever felt with Jenny. Was that even possible? He had to be imagining that. He’d been with Jenny for two years. Half a second could never compare with two years. And even if it did, the higher he got his hopes, the harder he would fall.
In retrospect, dropping the Sundry meeting was worth it. Yes, it set his hopes of getting his business off the ground back by a matter of months, but he’d made a real difference in her life that day with the horses.
But who was he kidding? Everything else aside, Poppy’s mother was right—Slade Powers was no match for an heiress. Even one who was financially estranged from her parents for the time being. Celebrities and billionaires did not end up with firefighters.
Probationary firefighters, he scolded. Or ex-firefighter if you don’t wrap this up.
There wasn’t strictly a time limit on the test, but Poppy would be at the station soon, and he should help JFK with dinner before she arrived. That was another beneficial outcome of the horse incident—it had convinced her to come for dinner.
He wrote Industrial Revolution, and breezed through the final two questions. Should be enough to get him past probation. Slamming down the pencil, he pushed back from his chair and hurried out the door. The sooner he could put this behind him, the better.
“Cap?” said Slade as he went into the main office of the station. No sign of anyone. Cap had given him the test, but the battalion chief would be by later to grade it. Maybe they were in the apparatus bay.
Slade pushed the door open and heard a musical laugh. Halfway across the bay, Poppy was standing there next to Link, wearing turnouts and trying to figure out the strap on a helmet so it didn’t slide off her head. Her smile was wide enough to split her head in two. And sharper than an axe into Slade’s heart.
Two weeks after coming home from the Army, he had walked into a sporting goods store. While he had still been in the doorway he saw Jenny and her new man. She was giggling as he knelt in front of her like Prince Charming fitting a shoe. Slade had thought he’d be fine if he happened to run into her, but seeing her so happy with him had struck him immobile with grief. Just as he had found the strength to turn out of the store, Jenny had looked up, locked eyes with him, blushed, and stopped smiling. By then it had been too late to run away crying, so he had taken a slow breath, and headed into a different part of the store, giving Jenny and her curious husband a wave.
That day there had been tears. It was the day he realized that he could never get over her. He’d given his heart, and received it back in an envelope during the most challenging weeks of his life. A heart in no condition to ever be used again for what it was intended.
Seeing Poppy laughing and smiling with Link brought the pain back all over again. It tore open a wound that had never healed.
And Poppy wasn’t even doing anything wrong. She didn’t owe Slade anything, and technically she had come to have dinner with the crew. He didn’t own her. Had pushed her away, actually. Still, the dagger in his worthless heart was a perfect reminder of why he could never let anyone get too close again.
At least he had no tears left, just emptiness and pain. Just as he had six months ago in the sporting goods store, he took a deep breath and walked into the bay.
Thank you, Poppy, for reminding me why I will never open up again.
Poppy looked at him, and her smile got even bigger. “Hey! Link and the Old Guy said they’d show me around for a minute while you finished your test. How’d it go?”
Slade looked down at the papers in his hand. “Oh, it was fine. I think I passed.”
“When will you find out?” She took off the helmet and handed it back to Link, who traded her for her phone. Link set the helmet on the truck bumper and he and Old Guy walked away.
“Um, tonight.” Slade put his free hand in his pocket to keep it from trembling. “The battalion chief is coming by after dinner.”
As Poppy shook out her hair and tried to repair the damage the helmet had done, Slade trembled at the conflicting emotions running through him. The pain was still there, but with Poppy smiling right in front of him he couldn’t help but feel the joy her smile always brought. It was like standing under a shower that was boiling and freezing at the same time.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when she looked up at him.
Slade had stopped in his tracks, nauseated from the inner battle. He choked down the bile rising in his throat and managed to say, “It’s, uh, been a really long day.” The last time he’d seen her was the kiss. And somehow he wanted to kiss her again yet at the same time he wanted to run and hide behind a locked door.
“You need to rest?” asked Poppy, coming forward and putting a hand on his arm. The physical contact steadied him emotionally, but the real strength came from her smile, concerned and more toothy than normal, and every bit as magical. It banished the nausea and doubt immediately.
Slade took a step back and turned toward the door. “No, I’m good. Wanna see the rest of the station?”
With a bit more distance between them, and a timid smile, Poppy said, “Sure. Let me get out of your firefighting clothes first.”
Slade was sorry that she had picked up on his aloofness, but it was better that they both kept their distance. This could never work out.
Good! This can never work out!
As she turned to pull off the coat Slade saw POWERS across the bottom hem. Those were his turnouts, not Link’s. He liked that much better than the idea of her wearing anyone else’s turnouts.
C’mon, Slade, could you possibly be more hot and cold?
Poppy easily slid out of the coat and bunker pants. She was wearing black pants and a red shirt.
“You decided not to wear your animal jeans?” asked Slade.
“I thought about it. Since this place was technically a pigsty for a short time. But I couldn’t decide between my dog hair jeans or my ferret vomit jeans.” Her banter was natural but he noticed a slight tinge of red hit her cheeks and her hands went self-consciously to her backside as if she was self-conscious.
As he did whenever she started talking like that, Slade wished he knew a way to tell her how great she looked to him—curves in all the right places and pretty much perfect. Most of all, her body fit her personality, fun and healthy and attractive in a tractor beam sort of way, which he constantly had to resist. He’d ne
ver been into ultra-skinny girls, especially ones who tortured themselves to keep weight off and made themselves miserable in the meantime.
Slade arranged his bunkers and turnout coat then set them back on the ladder, ready for the next call.
“What do you want to see first?”
“Ooh.” The smile went all the way up to her eyes this time. “I want to see what smells so good.”
With everything going on, Slade hadn’t even noticed the strong odor coming from the kitchen.
“If I had to guess, that’s JFK’s sausage and fennel ragu. Come on, kitchen’s upstairs.”
As they climbed, the delicious aroma of Italian seasonings and sausage grew stronger, making Slade’s mouth water. Before they reached the top step, Poppy tugged on his sleeve and passed him when they stopped. One stair above him and still shorter than him, she turned to face him. “Thanks for making me come. It feels pretty amazing to be here.”
“The power of a good guilt trip,” said Slade with a smile. He was tempted to step down one step, but he couldn’t stand the thought of doing anything to injure that smile again.
“I don’t want you to worry, Slade. I’m not going to try anything.” With a smile that was half self-deprecating and half fake confidence, she went on. “It’ll be hard, but I’ll keep the sexy in check, too.” She winked playfully, obviously making fun of herself. Before Slade could object and tell her she had already failed, she went on. “I mean, I get your issues, I have plenty of my own. I don’t necessarily agree but I can respect the boundaries you choose to set because of them.”
“Oh,” said Slade, too surprised by her surrender to speak coherently.
“If you want friendship only, I’m okay with that. I like spending time with you, even though honestly it’s an emotional whirlwind. Even if you hadn’t told me that I’m strictly friendzone material, I wouldn’t presume anything. I mean,” she let out a breath and actually shuddered, “look at you. Then look at me.”
“There is nothing wrong with you,” said Slade instantly. It was taking everything he had to keep from putting his hands on her hips and leaning against her. The emotional toll of the day had caught up and he wanted nothing more than to lean on her.
“Nothing wrong? Oh really?” Poppy took a deep breath and took off at a run. “I’m not tall enough. I’m not thin enough. I’m not successful enough. I’m not feminine enough, I’m not polished enough, smart enough, pure enough, strong enough—”
“Poppy, stop.”
She continued to talk right over him “—fit enough, thick-skinned enough, complete enough, confident enough. I am not good enough. I—”
Slade kissed her. Before he knew what he was doing they were lip to lip, frozen, paused in time as the caustic words echoed down the stairwell and thankfully into non-existence. Her lips moved, slowly as if melting with his. Happy nerve endings triggered through his chest and spread through his body as he molded his lips to fit hers. She tasted like cinnamon and smiles, a hundred times sweeter than the dinner aroma from seconds ago.
He couldn’t say how much time passed before they both leaned back, breathing heavily and looking deeply into each other’s eyes, as intimately as they had at the gym that first time.
A few breaths passed. Poppy spoke first. “You’re going to give me the wrong idea, Mr. Fireman.”
“I’m sorry.” Slade backed down a step. “There was no other nice way to get you to shut up.”
“How noble of you. Nice of you to make the sacrifice.”
“I couldn’t listen to the lies any more, Poppy.” Their eyes were still locked, straight across now that she stood two steps above. “You are … you’re … I don’t even know how to explain it.”
“The wordsmith is at a loss for words? Say it in a poem.”
The gaze broke as he pulled his half of the connection away. Slade knew it would look sketchy so he tried stepping past her.
“Wait.” She grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look at her. “You already did, didn’t you?”
“We’re gonna be late for chow.” Slade cleared his throat. “We don’t want to hurt the chef’s feelings.”
“Hold it.” Poppy stepped in front of him. “I’m pretty sure JFK doesn’t have any feelings. And you’re avoiding the subject, Tangent Man.”
Slade shook his head.
“If you wrote something about me you have to share it! It’s in the Poesy Bylaws or the Code of Poets or something.”
Slade couldn’t keep the smile from his face, but there was no way. “I will never do that, Poppy. We will starve to death right here on these stairs.”
“I haven’t been working my butt off all day doing firefighter tests. I think I can outlast you.”
“I’m not going to share any poetry,” said Slade, “but I will give you this instead: I don’t think I can live without you. There’s this aspect to life and to myself that was hidden until you came and opened the door. I need you to be in my life, but I can only do it as friends.”
Poppy shook her head and a slow breath passed between her lips. “Listening to you is like building sandcastles on the beach. Just when I think we have a masterpiece going, you undercut my hopes with a single wave.”
“I hope there’s room for me in your life as a friend,” said Slade.
“It’d be pretty crappy of me to demand more, I guess.” She moved out of the way, smiling in a way that for all of his attempts to build her up and be honest, showed she was hurting. Sometimes being able to read her thousand smiles felt like a curse.
As he opened the door for her, Poppy muttered, “Apparently, I’m not good enough for one of your poems. Add that to the list.” Louder, she announced, “Smells great in here!”
JFK was standing in the kitchen leaning against the counter and scrolling through his phone. Without looking up he said, “It’ll make a turd.” Once he’d figured out that Poppy was interested in Slade, it had been all sour grapes for JFK.
“Visitors,” said Emily from one of the recliners. “Some manners, please.”
JFK glanced up for only a second, and kept swiping.
Poppy looked up at Slade and grinned. She was over whatever had happened in the stairwell, but Slade was aching again from Poppy’s bitter words that he couldn’t do anything to convince her weren’t true. How could he possibly show her how amazing he thought she was?
“Good to see you guys again,” said Poppy.
Emily and Cap smiled and waved as they got up from the recliners. One of them muted the news.
“You on Tinder?” JFK asked. He stirred a simmering pot then walked around the counter and turned his phone around to show it to Poppy. “If you are, do yourself a favor and don’t stand straight on like this chick. Turn at an angle to the camera. Some guys like extra junk in the trunk but most of us will swipe a chick like this faster than the Flash flicking a booger.”
Poppy’s eyes went wide and though she was still smiling, it was forced. Immediately her face turned red and her eyes flashed toward Slade. That was it. He had to do something. If this moment passed he would forever be the man who let an insensitive jerk call Poppy fat.
Slade’s fists clenched. Paper rattled in his left hand as it bunched.
Don’t do it. Take a breath.
He had to do something, but what? In a matter of hours he would be done with probation. He would most likely be moved to another station to work with another crew. If he could just find a way to prevent killing his partner tonight.
Another breath.
As usual Emily was chastising JFK, saying something about idiot and apology. But that wasn’t enough. It had to come from Slade, not Emily, not Cap, or anyone else.
The slow breaths reminded him what he had learned in the military. While he had never seen combat, he’d done weeks and weeks of training on decision making under fire. He just needed a second to consider consequences and options.
If he punched JFK, he could lose his job. Would lose his job. What else could he do, right here right
now? It had to be tonight. Tomorrow wasn’t good enough because Poppy was good enough, despite what she thought or said.
Poppy was still staring at him, the smile completely erased from her face.
The words from an online poet he followed came to mind: The right poem finds us exactly when it needs to. Whoever Atticus was, he had never been more right than at that moment because if there was ever a time for a poem to find Poppy, it was now.
Slade let out his breath as he smoothed his test papers, then handed them to Cap. He walked right past JFK, who leaned nervously away, and walked over to the intercom. Calmly he announced, “Link and O.G. report to the dayroom please.”
Still exhibiting more calm than his trembling knees and churning gut felt, Slade walked down the hallway into his dorm, picked up his sketch book in both hands and forced himself to walk back to the dayroom.
The five members of his crew plus Poppy were standing in a semi-circle. They stared at him with curious and amused faces, as if he was a toddler who had announced he was going to share his philosophical views. Slade’s face was hotter than the training fire from his hands-on test earlier but he couldn’t go back so he stepped up to complete the circle and turned the pages one by one doing his best to appear calm.
“The boot took his tests and thinks he’s all grown up,” said JFK, “now he’s gonna—”
“Enough,” said Cap. “You need to learn when to just shut it.”
Slade found the page and took another breath. Looking over his sketch book at Poppy he said, “Sometimes I like to jot ideas down. Things that, you know, run around in my mind until I get them out. Some people would call them poems, but I’m not that pretentious.”
Two Hearts Rescue: Park City Firefighter Romance Page 11
