Page 73 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

As Fred hauled her out of the foyer, she wondered if she was tipsy, and tried to remember if she’d drunk anything alcoholic lately. That led to the memory of sitting on her couch watching the nightmare of her life play out on national TV. She pushed the remembrance aside.

Whatever was causing this light, frenzied, go-go-go feeling, she’d take it. It was better than fear.

She danced into the warmth of the early evening and threw her arms wide. Tilting her head back, she took in the brilliant pinprick stars, the deep comfort of the endless twilight sky. “What does it matter, Fred? One little life in the middle of all this. Why do we get so worried about things? Every time I get upset, I ought to come out here and just look up. That’s all. Just look up.” Taking a deep inhale, full of wonder at this revelation, she glanced over at Fred.

Fred wasn’t looking up; he was looking around, scanning the surrounding area. “Look at the sky, Fred! In case you need directions, it’s right over your head.”

“Yes. It’s nice. Are you done now? I don’t know if it occurred to you, but now is not the best time to go out. You haven’t changed that much since you were eight. If people were watching the testimony and saw your picture, it might still be fresh in their minds. They might recognize you.”

“Up, Fred. Look up,” she insisted.

Finally he did so, and she took his hand, swinging it back and forth. A slight breeze whispered against her cheek. A car rumbled past. In this crazy mood, she didn’t think about a possible threat inside the car, as she usually would. Instead, she felt sorry for them, trapped inside a car instead of enjoying the unbelievable beauty of a simple evening sky. She filled her lungs with sweet desert air. “Isn’t that sky spectacular?”

“Sure.” Even though Fred was probably just humoring her—she recognized that tone of voice—she appreciated the gesture. After one more long breath, she squeezed his hand.

“Okay, we can go now.”

“Back inside?” he asked hopefully.

“No way. I want to go to a strip club.”

“What?” Fred yanked his hand from her clasp and whirled her to face him. “What are you up to, Rachel? What’s going on here?”

“I want to dance,” she said firmly. “On a tabletop. Or a countertop. On top of something. If I could dance up there, I would.” She jerked a thumb toward the sky. “Just dance, that’s all. I’m not even going to drink anything. I don’t need to. I’m high on the sky right now.”

He studied her for a long moment, his jaw working. The amber light spilling from the foyer outlined his solid, well-muscled frame, flickering around him like a halo. She knew he was worried, and she didn’t blame him. If only she could share this crazy, transcendent, overflowing feeling with him, maybe he’d relax. She leaned in, puckering her lips slightly, as if she could transfer her mood with a kiss. But he kept his arms rigid, maintaining the distance between them, and she wasn’t strong enough to force it.

“Don’t do that,” he warned her. “I need to think.”

She tucked a smile into the corner of her mouth and waited patiently while he debated with himself. The heat of his grip added to her manic restlessness. She wanted him up there on that tabletop too. It would be so much more fun with Fred. Everything was more fun with Fred.

“Okay,” he said finally, reluctance dripping from his voice. “I’ll take you to a club where occasionally people dance on the bar. It’s packed with off-duty firefighters and I know the owners and I know you’ll be safe. Deal?”

She cocked her head, thinking it over. “What’s it called?”

“Firefly. It’s an old converted firehouse. Everyone always has a good time there. Guaranteed.”

“Firefly. The little glow bugs that fly around at night, that kids like to catch and put in a jar?”

“I suppose.” Two little frown lines appeared between his eyebrows. “So?”

“I’d never, ever do that to a firefly,” she told him earnestly. “Never. I’d let them keep flying around as long as they wanted.”

A sparkle appeared in the brown depths of his eyes, then the familiar creases fanned from their corners, then his whole face opened into a laugh. A wonderful laugh. A laugh that seemed to capture light from all the stars up above and send it shimmering along her skin.

At that moment, she knew she was in love with Fred.

She didn’t do anything with the thought. There was nothing to do. It didn’t change the fact that he was going back to the firehouse and she was going back to her old life. But it settled into her bones and tissues and fibers as if it had always been there and had no intention of leaving.

He grabbed her hand, and hauled her toward her car, which she’d left parked out front.

“Let’s take your truck,” she protested. “It’s much more fun.”

“Your car’s safer. Better gas mileage too. But I’m driving.”

That was fine. She felt too floaty to drive. With Fred at the steering wheel, she opened the moon roof and sang to the stars. You twinkle above us … we twinkle below. The air rushing past held a hint of summer, of banked heat ready to be unleashed. In a month it would be summer, and in San Gabriel that meant fire season. Fire season meant Fred would be throwing his precious, beloved self into danger.

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