Page 2 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

“It won’t be so bad,” he says. “I was the rookie last year. The worst I got was a bunch of teasing for liking to read too much. Oh! And fire hydrant duty.”

“Fire hydrant duty?” I ask.

“I’d tell you, but then I’d catch it from the other guys.

Trust me. It’s not all that bad. We’re in this together.

I can’t think of another job where a man relies on his coworkers for his very life.

Us and the police.” He pauses. “And you won’t hear me saying those two words in the same breath again. ”

“The rivalry is real?”

“Very. Mostly in good fun. Mostly.” Patrick smiles again.

Then he pauses, grabs a list from his pocket and hands it to me.

“Oh! Before I forget. Here’s your unofficial list of duties.

Can’t post these. Captain might get a little …

Well, let’s just say this is between the guys and you.

Welcome to Station Number One in the middle of a lot of nowhere Tennessee. ”

I nod, crack open the paper and read the first item on the list.

Manage Vanessa. This includes fielding her visits, keeping her away from the other men on your crew, and answering any calls she makes to the station.

I look up from the paper and shout after Patrick as he walks back toward the door leading into the front office.

“Vanessa?”

His full laugh is the only answer I get.

When I catch up to Patrick, his voice is low.

“Remember, that list is just between us, Rookie. And trust me, you’ll be begging for hydrant duty after you deal with item number one.

She’s a handful. She has her heart set on marrying a firefighter.

We’re all single except the captain. That makes us riper than a blueberry patch to a grizzly.

And trust me, under those high heels and short dresses, that bear has claws. ”

Without another word, Patrick steps up into the office, and I follow him. Captain David is still at the desk. The other two firefighters are in the kitchen cooking breakfast. The smell of bacon and toast wafts through, making my mouth water.

“Let’s eat. Then you can get to work,” David says to the two of us.

Out of the blue, the alarm rings through the station.

The mood shifts instantly. Breakfast is abandoned while everyone rushes out the doors into the bay.

I’m stunned for only a moment and then my brain gets a shot of adrenaline that sends me flying after my crew toward the lockers.

I stuff the private to-do list into my pocket.

I’m still wearing my jeans. I’m not even in my station uniform yet! My jeans won’t fit under our fire gear.

I do the only thing I can think of as the other firefighters efficiently grab their turnouts from their lockers and don them with precision and speed.

I drop my pants.

All eyes turn toward me. No one stops gearing up.

My pants get stuck on the tops of my boots, halfway down my legs.

Now I’m hopping around with my legs essentially tied together, trying to get my boots off. I’m in my own personal sack race, trying to balance and disrobe at lightning speed. Meanwhile, I’m fully aware that time is ticking and someone’s house is on fire.

I yank one boot off, tossing it behind me without a thought.

The sound of it skidding across the bay barely grabs my attention.

I make quick work of the other. It goes flying.

I tug my pants off my legs, leave them in a heap and grab my turnout, setting it onto the bay floor and stepping in, pulling the suspender straps up over my T-shirt, and finally covering, yes, my Cheetos boxers.

“Nice chonies,” Patrick mumbles as he rounds the engine.

I throw on my coat and jog after him.

“Are those boxers NFPA approved gear?” The man supposedly named Chad asks with a chuff.

I ignore them and run behind Patrick to hop up into the back seat.

While I’m buckling in, “Chad” hands me a headset.

He explains into his mic, “Greyson and Captain are coming behind us in the rescue unit.”

“Is Greyson an EMT?” I ask into my headset.

“Yep,” Chad answers. “He and Patrick are EMT certified. Captain is too. Greyson served in the military before becoming a fireman. He was a medic overseas.”

“Fire’s at Emberleigh’s house,” Patrick says, interrupting my orientation to my crew to concentrate on the emergency at hand. “Kitchen.”

“Emberleigh?” I ask.

“Local baker. Best donuts you’ve ever had. And cookies. Pies …” Chad’s voice is airy with reminiscence.

My stomach growls in response. It’s no secret that I’ve got a huge sweet tooth. I can afford it. I work out two hours a day. What I wouldn’t do for something to fill my hunger right now. That thought is quickly replaced with a laser focus. This woman’s house is on fire.

“Is she in the house?” I ask.

“Sounds like it,” Patrick says, pulling up in front of a white home with a sweet front porch, flowers in the yard and trees scattered on the property.

The neighborhood is the type you’d see on one of those Hallmark movies Mom and Mitzi like to watch over the holidays. Charming. That’s what they’d call it.

At first the house doesn’t appear to be on fire. But then I see it—the plume of smoke furling from the back corner. I slip my hood on, grab my SCBA mask, helmet, air tank and gloves.

We exit the engine and Patrick shouts, “Cody, hose!”

Cody. Not Chad . Mm hmm. That’s what I thought.

Patrick grabs the hose from Cody. He runs forward while Cody stands next to the engine to control the flow of water.

I’m in full gear. Patrick looks at me. “We’re on rescue.”

Without waiting for another instruction from Patrick, I run ahead of him into the house.

He’s right behind me. Two in, two out. Never run in alone.

I’m not alone, but I might be slightly further ahead of Patrick than I ought to be.

It’s all so contained during training, even when we run into smoke and flames.

This is different. My senses are on high alert.

A woman is in here. An actual life is on the line.

Fire grows exponentially, not incrementally. That means a flame can go from twice its size to four times to sixteen times in a matter of moments. Time is always of the essence. Every second counts.

Thankfully, the front door is unlocked. I burst through, running toward the back of the house.

The smoke is faint in the front rooms—a good sign.

I move through to the kitchen and stop short when I see the woman standing there, a redhead with an extinguisher in her hand.

She’s waving it back and forth toward the top of her stove, but the spray is running out.

The flames were somewhat contained, but start to grow quickly.

She turns and her bright green eyes meet mine through my mask. She narrows her eyes and then looks around frantically. Patrick steps into the kitchen behind me.

“You need to get out, Emberleigh!” Patrick shouts.

He’s holding the end of the hose.

“I just need to grab my other extinguisher!” Emberleigh shouts back.

Patrick talks through his shoulder-mounted mic. “Hey, Cody, give me water!”

I look at Emberleigh, “Ma’am, we’ve got this.”

Emberleigh stands still as if she has no intention of moving out of the way.

“Come with me,” I tell her.

She doesn’t budge. Instead, she pivots slightly as if she’s going to stay put and spectate while Patrick extinguishes the growing flames.

There’s no imminent danger, but smoke is getting thicker and the air is hot.

Fire can be extremely unpredictable. Patrick and I are each wearing sixty pounds of fully fireproofed gear.

Emberleigh is in jeans, a t-shirt, a floral half-apron, and bare feet.

I make a split-second decision and step forward so I’m standing side-by-side with Emberleigh.

Securing a grip on her upper body and clasping her opposing wrist so her arm doesn’t swing free, I bend into a squat, lean slightly forward and in one movement, I shift her weight so I can hoist her into a fireman’s carry.

Emberleigh squeals as I throw her over my shoulder. Then she yells, “Put me down, you ape!”

She’s kicking her legs and squirming, making it more challenging to carry her out, but I’ve got her secured and I’m already heading to the front door.

“Stop manhandling me!” she shouts. “Put. Me. Down!”

She’s swatting at me with her free hand now.

I trudge out the front door, setting her down as soon as we’ve cleared the porch.

Once her feet are firmly on the ground, I step back.

Emberleigh pops her hip out and props a hand on it. Pointing a finger in my face, she yells, “What do you think you were doing? You don’t just pick a woman up and haul her out of her own house!”

Her eyes flit to my biceps, which are hidden beneath a thick layer of shirt and jacket, and back up to my face. She coughs lightly.

“I’m just doing my job,” I explain. “I need you to get checked out for smoke inhalation.”

I tip my head toward the rescue unit where Captain David and Greyson are standing.

“I’m fine. And I would have been fine if my extinguisher would have held up.”

She crosses her arms and stares at me.

It’s possible she’s in shock.

Maybe if I introduce myself as I slowly walk toward the rescue unit she’ll follow along. Then Greyson or Captain can talk her into getting checked out.

“I should officially introduce myself. I’m Dustin Reed. I just moved to Waterford from California.”

Emberleigh mumbles. “That explains the unnecessary heroics.”

“What?”

“Rookie. California. I get it now.”

“Actually, I was a volunteer firefighter back home. This isn’t my first fire.” I take a step toward the rescue unit. “Was it yours?”

I don’t mention that this was my first house fire. My volunteer work was always in wildland fire containment or support services. The professionals handled all the rescues.

Emberleigh doesn’t budge, but her face falters for the briefest moment.

Our eyes meet. Her voice is soft when she says, “Yes. This is my first time living through a fire.”

Emberleigh glances back at her home and then she smooths her hands down her apron.

Greyson strolls across the yard in our direction.

“Hey, Emberleigh. Sorry about your kitchen.” His face is a mask of stoicism, but his voice is full of compassion. “Do me a favor and let me check you out for smoke inhalation.”

“Sure, Grey. If it will help you sleep at night.”

“I’m a firefighter. Nothing helps me sleep at night.”

Emberleigh smiles tenderly at Greyson. “Sorry. Firefighter problems, huh?”

“It’s one of the side effects of the job.” His voice is factual.

“Sorry, Grey. The town’s grateful for your sacrifices.”

The two of them walk toward the rescue unit.

I hear him ask her, “Do you feel lightheaded?” and that’s the last thing I can make out.

She’s calm until he asks her something that has her waving her hands and talking in an animated manner.

Then she bends down and pantomimes throwing something over her shoulder.

The two of them look back at me. I wave and smile.

Great. First call and I already annoyed a local.