Page 70 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

It sure seemed that Sabina was suggesting Fred had feelings for her. More feelings than he’d had for his ex-girlfriend. Strong feelings, the kind that drove a guy to tackle his own captain. But if so, why was he ignoring her now?

She hadn’t wanted to think about their feelings for each other, because he wasn’t going to be around much longer. Falling for Fred would be a silly thing to do. Her father’s testimony would take place any day now, and that would be the end of their arrangement. Fred would go back to his regular life at the firehouse and she’d retreat to her isolated bubble of an existence.

What man would be willing to put up with the kind of constraints she lived under? Once he went back to the firehouse, he’d be the Bachelor Hero again. And if they kept seeing each other, the media might start investigating her, and if they found out who she really was …

She shuddered. She couldn’t let that happen.

But still … Sabina’s hints kept stealing into her mind. What if Sabina was right and he was starting to develop real feelings for her?

She rolled the thought around in her mind, testing it to see how it felt. Her hands trembled on the slick pages of the catalogue. To love and be loved by Fred … it was something she hadn’t really dared to think about. It seemed almost too wonderful to imagine, his warm, sunny strength by her side, forevermore.

But when she tried to figure out how it would work in real life, she ran into a blank wall. How could their lives possibly fit together when he wasn’t acting as her bodyguard? What would that look like?

Unfortunately, Fred wasn’t talking. He also, for the first time since the night of Cindy’s wedding, slept in the guest bed. After his usual careful check of the apartment and testing of the alarms, he gave her a polite good night and disappeared into his room.

Rachel lay awake, cursing her stupidity. This was why you shouldn’t get involved with your bodyguard. Because if something went wrong between you, he was right next door, so close, yet so torturously far.

But what had gone wrong? If only he’d give her some kind of clue. She considered calling Cindy for advice, then remembered she was on her honeymoon. What would Cindy do in this situation? Probably go out and party. Forget her troubles and make Bean jealous at the same time. But that wasn’t an option for Rachel, not without her bodyguard—the source of her problems. Total catch–22.

The next day, her father called her from his private jet to say he was on his way to Washington and that his testimony was scheduled for shortly after he arrived. Her stomach clenched. This was it. The end, drawing near.

“Isn’t that cutting it close?”

“If I’m late, they’ll wait,” he said with typical arrogance. Only Rob Kessler would make an entire U.S. Senate subcommittee wait for him. In the background, she saw his assistant bring him a glass of water. Lemon-ginger-cucumber, no doubt. Her father had very strict dietary requirements wherever he went. “How’s your bodyguard? Where’s your bodyguard?”

“He’s here. He’s on the treadmill.”

“Marsden says he’s working out well.”

“I’m alive, aren’t I? Still breathing in and out, still exchanging oxygen for carbon dioxide.” She couldn’t hide her irritation, or explain that it was very likely due to the fact that said bodyguard had slept in his own bed last night.

“You don’t sound too happy about that.”

“Of course I’m happy. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Are you going to watch the testimony? It’ll be on C-SPAN later in the evening.”

“Sure, if you want me to.”

“Watch a bunch of politicians make asses of themselves? How could you miss it? Besides, then it’ll be over. As I promised, you can ditch the bodyguard and go back to normal.”

She forced a smile. “Yes. That’ll be a big relief.”

“Thank you for being patient with me, honey. Means a lot.”

“It’s all right,” she said dully, unable to summon any particular joy or pride. She knew her safety meant everything to her father. But sometimes she wished she had something else to boast about other than the fact that she was still sentient.

Fred had been walking around in a kind of stupor ever since Vader had hit him with that “you’re in love” comment. It was just a word, a phrase—“in love”—what did it even mean? It certainly didn’t describe his feelings for Rachel. No way. He was Rachel’s protector. That’s why he’d freaked out about Acie, not because he was jealous. He was simply protecting her from a Southern-boy charmer. In love? That would create so many problems, he didn’t even want to think about it. A guy like him falling in love with someone like Rachel Kessler would be like … asking to get kicked in the head by Vader Brown.

In desperate need of some room to think, away from her scent, her wide smile, the tumble of her hair, he took extra care with the safety check, then closeted himself in his room.

It didn’t help. He barely slept. Perhaps the low point of the night was when he pictured himself telling Rob Kessler he was in love with his daughter. In his imagination, a SWAT team of Namsaknoi Yudthagarngams came crashing through the picture windows to take him down. Rachel deserved the best, someone who could both protect her and give her the world. Maybe some combination of Rambo and … Prince William. And Bill Gates, for good measure.

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