Page 67 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“You must be Sabina. You’re even prettier than I thought you’d be.”

Sabina shrugged that off. As gorgeous as she was, Fred said she didn’t care much about her looks; they didn’t matter on the job, after all. “Luke, my stepson, wants to get a dog. He’s been talking about it ever since he and my husband moved here. Do you have any advice on what breed to get? We need a dog who’s very patient. One who doesn’t bark. Smart. Maybe a dog who likes to field baseballs.”

Rachel loved her right away for saying “a dog who” instead of “a dog that,” which happened to be one of her pet peeves. In her eyes, dogs weren’t “things,” but living beings with feelings.

“We have some very sweet dogs at the San Gabriel Refuge for Injured Wildlife,” Rachel told her eagerly. “They’re looking for good homes. Why don’t you bring your son out sometime?”

Fred jostled her elbow. Oh crap. What had she been thinking? If Sabina came to the Refuge, she’d realize Fred was working for Rachel. Then she might wonder why. Then she might start putting things together. Rachel shot Fred a quick look of apology, then stammered, “Maybe in a few weeks. It’s a little busy at the moment.”

Looking disappointed, Sabina nodded. “Sounds good. How’d you guys figure out you were cousins?”

“Distant cousins,” said Vader.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder,” Mulligan intoned.

“Did I just hear an affirmation coming out of Mulligan’s mouth?” One of the most handsome men Rachel had ever laid eyes on stopped next to their little circle. He fixed eyes the color of a summer sky on Rachel, who felt her jaw fall open. This must be Ryan Blake, who’d recently gotten married and was madly in love with his young wife.

“Nope,” said Mulligan promptly. “Some simple words of wisdom from times of yore. Affirmations are for pu—”

“So are we going to do this packing thing or what?” Fred interrupted hastily.

“Go ahead, dude,” said Mulligan. “Patty’s waiting for you in the bedroom. And I’m not even going to mention what she’s wearing.”

Double D growled, lifting a crutch. “I’m about ready to get spikes installed in these things.”

Rachel let out an unexpected spurt of laughter. The sound was so awkward that she clapped her hand over her mouth. Everyone stopped talking and turned toward her. She felt her face slowly heat. She couldn’t explain how it felt for someone as sheltered as she was to be plopped into the middle of such a freewheeling, jokey conversation. It was better than the near-brawl at Beer Goggles; better than being taken for a skank at a bowling alley. It was real and fun and she loved it.

“Who offended you?” Double D demanded. “Tell me who, and I’ll rip them a new one.”

“Classy, D, real classy,” Vader chided.

“I’m not offended.” Rachel shook her head, dropping her hand so they could all see her wide smile. “You’re just all so … funny.”

“Yeah, funny-looking,” said Vader with a wink.

“Funny-smelling,” Sabina tossed over her shoulder as she strode away. “Are you guys here to shoot the shit or help out?”

Fred had to hand it to Rachel. She didn’t run for her safe zone after meeting the crew, but instead joined right in with the rest of them. Everyone got back to work filling boxes, loading them into a U-Haul, or doing whatever else Patty told them to do. As the slightest, least muscular person on the premises, Rachel volunteered to make sandwiches and hand out drinks. Every time Fred got a glimpse of her, she was chatting and laughing it up with some other firefighter.

Ace, the rookie, spent way too much time talking her ear off. Probably yammering about surfing or all the pranks the guys had pulled on him. Ace was a charmer. He had that Southern accent the girls went crazy over. Since Vader had gotten married, Ace had taken on the role of station player. At the last police versus firefighters softball game, he’d had his own cheering section.

Rachel wouldn’t fall for all that, would she?

On his third trip to the yard to grab more empty boxes, Fred decided he’d had enough of Ace’s flirting. He headed toward Rachel and the rookie, intending to drag the kid away by force if necessary. Vader stepped in his path.

“Going a little overboard over your ‘cousin,’ don’t you think?” He put his hands on his hips, his massive biceps flexing. Fred tried to peer over Vader’s shoulder at Rachel and the rookie, but he couldn’t see past the mountain of man in front of him. “How much do we really know about Ace?”

“Are we talking about the same person? The blond one the girls call the Angel in Turnouts? The one who cries into his KFC chicken basket because it reminds him of home?”

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Fred darkly.

“No kidding. Look at you. Who figured you for a dog in the manger type?”

“I’m not her dog. I mean, I’m not in her manger.” Fred felt the blood rush to his head. “I mean, we’re not …”

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