Sex and the Single Fireman: A Bachelor Firemen Novel (22 page)

Sabina sank back on her pillows. “Let me guess. You’ve installed cameras in my house and we’re actually going to be filming a reality show version of the
You and Me
reunion show.”

After a long, astonished pause, Annabelle burst into laughter. Not her movie laughter, but her hearty, snorty belly laugh, the one Sabina hadn’t heard in over twenty years.

“That’s genius, kiddo. Should we call Max and set it up?”

But Sabina could only shake her head because tears were grabbing at the back of her throat, clamoring to get out. As if she were seventeen again, all alone and longing for her mother. But her mother had cut her off. Ignored her for thirteen years. Only returned when she needed something.

On the other hand, she’d nearly died. And she’d thought about her mother when the world had been collapsing around her.
Sorry, Annabelle. Mama
.

“You can take me home. But if you stay, you cannot mention the reunion show. And we’ll take it a day at a time.”

Annabelle dipped her head like a queen granting a bequest.

For Roman, the
next couple of days passed in a surreal blur. He kept close tabs on Sabina’s progress. He knew when the doctors discharged her. He knew when she left the hospital. He knew when her mother took her home. Hell, the whole world knew that, since the paparazzi had snapped photos outside the hospital.

“Brush with Death Reunites Hatfields,” screamed the caption in the
San Gabriel Gazette
. Front page, no less. The newspaper lurked in his desk at the firehouse, taunting him with its glimpse of Sabina.

She sat in a wheelchair, her leg in a cast, bouquets of flowers piled in her lap. They had all come from someone else; he hadn’t sent a bouquet. Annabelle was pushing the wheelchair, oversize white sunglasses and a movie-star smile firmly in place as she waved to the cameras.

Roman stared at the photograph for what felt like a week, noticing every detail. Sabina’s face looked a little thin. She looked irritated by the presence of the cameras. Or maybe by her mother. Or maybe by the fact that he hadn’t visited her in the hospital.

He crumpled the newspaper and slammed it into the garbage can so hard he knocked it over with a harsh clang.

Stan lurched to his feet, gazed suspiciously at the garbage can, then went to investigate. When he sniffed at the balled-up newspaper, Roman snatched it away. “Sorry, Stan,” he muttered. “I’m not done with the paper yet.”

He smoothed it out and stashed it in the top drawer of his desk.

Chapter Twenty-Four

A
s Roman sleepwalked through the days that held no Sabina, it slowly sank in that something was bothering Luke. His son kept shutting himself in his room and blasting unfamiliar bands that made Roman’s head hurt. He kept talking to someone on the phone in a low voice, and got quiet the instant Roman walked past.

When he drove Luke to practice, he forced himself to make the superhuman effort to discuss it. It took him the entire car trip to produce the first words, which finally came after he’d pulled up to the curb at the park.

“I’m sorry about Sabina.”

Luke shot him an incredulous look. “Carly said she’s fine. She hurt her ankle, that’s all.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Luke waited, waving at the coach, who was hurrying past with the bag of bats. “What, Papa? I’m late.”

“Well, I saved Sabina. I got her out.”

“I know. You’re a stud, Papa. Everyone says so.” He jiggled his leg impatiently, an exuberant ball of energy trapped inside the metal cage known as a car.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“What? No.” Luke looked at him as if he’d just arrived from Mars. “Can I go now? I really don’t want to be late. I have to talk to someone before the game.”

“Oh yeah? Who? What about?”

Luke paused. Roman saw hesitation, uncertainty, and confusion flit across his son’s face. Like a roulette ball, he finally settled on impatience. “Later, Papa. Are you going to stay for practice? Cuz you don’t have to.”

That statement cut Roman to the quick. “Of course I’m staying. I’ll go park. I’ll be in the stands.”

Luke nodded and ran off. Roman slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. He’d handled the whole conversation wrong. He’d assumed he knew what was bothering Luke. That Luke was upset because he’d saved Sabina, but hadn’t saved Maureen. Of course it should bother Luke, because it bothered—

His mind shied away from the thought. No sense in thinking about Maureen. Or Sabina.
Keep it simple, Roman. Work, Luke, work, Luke
.

He started to pull away from the curb, then nearly crashed back into it at the sight of Sabina, on crutches, swinging her way across the green expanse of the park toward the baseball field. She looked so beautiful in cutoffs and a sky-blue T-shirt. The white cast on her ankle set off the pale gold sheen of her long, taut legs. The bright sunshine picked out glints of marigold in the long braid down her back. Was she letting her natural color shine through? She looked lithe and nimble, like a ballerina on stilts. The way her hips swung with every step made his cock pulse. Christ Almighty, only Sabina could make crutches look sexy.

He kept the Jeep in idle. This was the perfect opportunity to act like a normal person and ask her how she was doing. He could help her into the stands, fetch her a soda, fall to his knees and cry in her lap from sheer gratitude that she’d survived. He could tell her how it had felt to nearly lose her, and how strange undertows of emotion were tugging him this way and that, and how he didn’t understand any of it. How he couldn’t sleep and how he kept obsessively staring at that newspaper photo.

Or he could put his car in gear and spare her an embarrassing scene. If she only knew what a goddamn fool he was, she’d thank him for staying far away from her.

No doubt about
it, Roman was avoiding her. Everyone kept telling her how he’d charged into that house and dug through the rubble with his bare hands to rescue her.

“Bare hands? What about his gloves?”

“Don’t interrupt, I’m telling a story,” Double D scolded when he dropped by her house to bring her ice cream and ogle her mother. She shut up. She owed him, after all.

In fact, the story got more dramatic every time she heard it. The chunks of marble grew to the size of boulders. The flames were magically flaring all the way from the back of the house to the stairwell. Roman was completely blinded by the smoke and needed Double D to dart inside the house and lead him to the doorway. That detail appeared only in Double D’s version, but no one dared dispute it.

What no one could explain to her was why Roman would go to the trouble of risking his life, retrieving her nearly lifeless body from under a pile of rare Moldavian marble, only to ignore her utterly ever since then.

She thought about asking Vader when he stopped by the house, but he was still so upset about the whole thing she didn’t have the heart.

“You could have died. What the fuck, Sabina?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. How’re things at the station?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been off. Fire chief’s happy, though. Roman made us look good. They wanted to give him an award or something, but he said hell no.”

“Really?”

“Said he was just doing his job.”

Right. Just doing his job. Of course that’s all it was.

Vader pulled one of her beige armchairs close to the couch and propped his forehead on her upper arm. “I didn’t know I’d be so messed up if you got hurt. Do you think . . . ?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Dude, you don’t know what I was going to say.”

“Sure I do. You’re having crazy thoughts that you might be in love with me. You’re not. We’re friends. Don’t go all mushy on me, Vader, or I’ll drop a free weight on your foot next chance I get.”

Vader straightened up, looking hugely relieved. “Thanks, Two. Because Cherie says I’m in love with her.”

“Cool. Good choice. Is she okay with your potential homophobia or is it reverse homophobia now?”

“She worked up a whole program to cure me. It’s like school, Two, with lessons. Lesson sixteen is watching
Brokeback Mountain
without closing my eyes. It’s nuts. But she smells so good, like strawberry cheesecake. So I put up with it.”

Sabina laughed so hard, her ribs nearly cracked all over again. “Good luck with all that. Invite me to the graduation party.”

“Vader.” Annabelle stood over them, hands on slim hips. “What are you thinking, making her laugh?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay, Annabelle. I needed that.”

Vader got to his feet. “I better go anyway. Big meeting at the firehouse.”

“Thanks for coming by,” Sabina told him quickly, before he said anything more about the station. It hurt to hear about everything going on without her. It hurt to hear about Roman, busy running drills, training the crew, doing everything
except
coming to see her.

“I’m going to order some chicken soup from Murray’s Deli. You hungry?” Annabelle poised her index finger over her phone.

Sabina stared up at her, bemused. “In all those episodes where you cooked for Taffy, didn’t you soak up any information?”

Annabelle bristled for a moment, as if she didn’t know whether Sabina was teasing. “I can make hot cocoa. And I can probably remember grilled cheese. That was always your favorite.”

“
Taffy’s
favorite. We didn’t eat cheese, remember?”

“Yes. Taffy’s. Your favorite was . . .”

Sabina raised an eyebrow, waiting. If Annabelle remembered her favorite food, she’d eat her pillow. Her mother had been unexpectedly tolerable the past few days. She’d ordered takeout, refilled prescriptions, and even helped Sabina shower. She hadn’t mentioned the reunion show once. Still, the fact remained that Sabina was stuck on the couch, unable to work, and at times had the nightmarish sense that she’d never managed to leave home at all.

“Steamed dumplings with lots of soy sauce,” Annabelle announced proudly.

Sabina’s jaw dropped. “You
do
remember.”

“Is that so strange? You’re my only daughter. A few details stuck with me.”

The glint of humor in Annabelle’s tilted eyes did something funny to Sabina’s stomach. She wasn’t sure she liked it. Is it possible she’d . . . well, not misjudged her mother, precisely, but . . . underestimated her?

“Annabelle . . . ?”

“What?” her mother asked when she trailed off.

Questions piled up in Sabina’s mind. Why hadn’t she acknowledged the money Sabina had given her? Why had she chosen to cut her off? Had she ever missed Sabina? But frankly, Sabina feared the answers. “Let’s order Chinese. For old times’ sake.”

The next day
she couldn’t take it anymore. She had to get out of the house. Breathe some firehouse air. Remind herself that she was a firefighter. Talk to some members of the male gender for a change. Real, red-blooded, muscular men.

See Roman.

She borrowed her mother’s Volvo, which was an automatic, unlike her beast of an El Camino. It felt wonderful to do something on her own, to drive herself instead of stewing in the passenger seat. Driving was a little uncomfortable, but right now, absolutely necessary.

The whole crew was excited to see her. They gathered around, clapped her on the back, teased her, called her Iron Zombie until she threatened to kneecap them with her crutch. They asked when she was coming back. Told her, in detail, about every fire she’d missed. Recounted the prank Psycho had pulled on the rookie. While poor Ace had been in the bathroom, Psycho had snuck the rescue dummy into his bed. Ace had freaked out when he crawled back into bed to find it occupied.

He’d gotten some serious ribbing the next morning about his wild night with a sex doll and all the crazy sounds he’d made.

Sabina listened, laughed, chatted, but not one moment passed that she wasn’t hyperaware of the closed door of Roman’s office. Did he even know she was there? Did he care?

Finally, when she was just about ready to leave, the door opened and Roman appeared, a mountain of smoking hot male filling the doorway. He looked just as good as she kept remembering every restless, tossing night. Better. From all the way across the room, she could pick up his scent, black coffee and potent man.

Good thing she was on crutches.

“Chief Roman,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as weak as she felt.

“Firefighter Jones. How’s the recovery?”

“Speedy. I hope to be back on the job very soon.”

He hesitated, his dark eyes boring into her. “No need to rush it.”

Oh really? So he didn’t want her to hurry back? The man had some nerve, rescuing her and then ignoring her. Outrage stiffened her spine. “Chief Roman, may I speak with you privately?”

His fierce eyebrows pulled together. He didn’t want to be alone with her—she could tell. Too bad. She was still a member of Fire Station 1 and had the right to talk to her own training officer.

Reluctantly, he jerked his head in assent and held the door open for her. Ducking under his powerful arm felt like passing through a field of radiation. Sexually charged radiation. Every particle of her body responded to him. Even her ankle throbbed.

Or maybe that was because she’d been upright too long.

He noticed. Of course he did, with those black eyes that scoured every inch of her body. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said.

“You’re hurting.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sit down.”

She wanted to object to his bossy command, but she really needed to get off her ankle, so she swung over to the chair. Instantly Roman was at her side. He took her crutches and held her elbow as she sank into the chair. A sound escaped her, a sort of moaning wheeze. She knew what it was—shocked pleasure at the touch of his warm hand. But to him it must have sounded like pain.

Roman’s brows drew together in a worried scowl as he knelt next to her. “You should be in bed, not hanging around here.”

“I’m tired of being in bed.”

They stared at each other. The words “in bed” hung in the air between them, heavy and tantalizing. Deep in his eyes, a flame lit. She felt the same flame in the pit of her stomach, in the tips of her fingers, at the base of her throat.

She broke the spell by clearing her throat. “Word is, you rescued me. Thank you.”

It was as though a shutter slammed closed over his face. He looked down at the cast on her ankle. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” What the fuck did that mean? “You ass. It wasn’t nothing to me.”

She stared stubbornly at him, willing him to meet her eyes.

“Sabina . . .” His voice was thick and black, like tar running over gravel. “I . . .” Finally his eyes lifted, and she sucked in a breath. Pain radiated from him, a sorrow so deep and nameless she felt it like a punch in the stomach. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Unable to say a word, she nodded.

“Because if you weren’t—” He broke off, his mouth tightening.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Promise.”

He got to his feet and stood looking down at her, head bent. She felt embraced by his concern, as if surrounded with warm, steady light. Her head swam. If only she could live in that place, in this moment, in the crosshairs of Roman’s attention. She could imagine no safer, more blissful place to be.

Someone knocked on the door. “Captain, we got an issue out here. Stan’s running in circles around the training room sounding like a chew toy.”

The moment shattered. Roman straightened his head, the corners of his firm mouth curling in amusement. He strode to the door and cracked it open. Stan shot in. He whirled around the room, sniffing frantically, then skidded to a halt at Roman’s feet. Tail wagging, he panted until Roman reached down, way down, to scratch him between the ears. His moist brown eyes closed and his tail pounded on the floor.

Watching Roman’s long fingers work their magic, Sabina knew just how Stan felt.

“He likes you now?”

“Apparently so. Guess he just needed some time to warm up to me.”

Sabina pushed herself to her feet and grabbed her crutches. “I’d better go.” She hadn’t said what she’d wanted to say, which was something along the lines of
Why are you pretending I don’t exist?
But she’d gotten her answer. He knew she existed, all right. He just didn’t know what to do about that fact.

Neither did she, for that matter.

Roman gave a brisk, formal nod. “Hang in there with the recovery. Do whatever the doctors say, don’t push anything. We look forward to having you back with us.”

Sabina gave him a half smile and stumped toward the door. He opened it to usher her through. On her way out, she leveled a long stare at him. “You don’t fool me, Roman,” she said softly. “Not anymore.”