Fire at Sunset: The Firefighters of Darling Bay 4 Page 13

  Tony pressed his lips together in a tight line.

  “Dad?”

  His father stayed silent.

  Had he really asked for a story? Or was that just another noise his father made, words that weren’t really words, sound that carried no meaning?

  Caz picked up the wolf he’d been carving for weeks now. It still wasn’t done. Something about the legs, maybe, or the muzzle? Something was wrong, and he couldn’t tell what it was.

  “Story.” Tony’s eyes were open, and he met Caz’s gaze almost as if he were still himself. As if Dad were still in there. Somewhere.

  Bonnie’s voice came back to Caz. To make him feel cared for.

  “What kind of story?”

  Silence.

  Of course his father was silent. What was Caz thinking? That his father knew what he was asking for? Stupid. So stupid to think that.

  But if he did…

  “Okay,” started Caz. “I’ll tell you about…” Bonnie. He only wanted to talk about Bonnie. About the way her hair lit in sunlight, and about how her lips looked when she pursed them in a whistle. About how he’d screwed up maybe bigger than he had in his whole life.

  He’d lied to her.

  Tony’s hands moved fitfully, pulling at the blanket that covered him. Caz smoothed it.

  The one thing he’d wanted from Bonnie, she couldn’t give him. But instead of giving her the truth, I’m so in love with you it hurts, so in love with you I’m blind to anything else, he’d lied for the first time in memory. It was a flat-out, bald-faced ugly-as-sin lie. The worst untruth.

  He still didn’t know why he’d done it.

  “Story,” said Tony again. “Cabin.”

  “Dad?” Caz wanted to lunge at the idea. Anything to take his mind off her.

  “Cabin.”

  Maybe his father was in there. “Okay. Great.” Caz pulled his straight-backed chair—the one his father had helped him make so many years before—closer to the bed. “So. The cabin is almost done. You were right about the flooring, by the way. I ran the first boards perpendicular to the joists, just like you said.” His father had talked about how to put in a floor years before Caz had started building the cabin, but he’d never forgotten what he’d said. While he’d worked on the walls and setting the chimney stones and buying the glass for the windows, he’d remembered his father’s words on construction, pretending his father was there to help.

  That, in itself, was kind of a lie, wasn’t it?

  But Tony’s eyes were still on him. They still had this moment. Together.

  “Anyway. I still have to put the final touches on it. I have no furniture. Every room is still empty. I kind of like it that way, I gotta admit. Remember what you said about every room’s echo being different? I love that I know how my footsteps sound in the kitchen versus the bedroom. When I buy the furniture, I want to know that…”

  What? What did he want to know? Why did knowing Bonnie’s favorite color seem so important to him suddenly?

  “You’ll take…” His father’s words trailed off. “Take…”

  Caz leaned forward, wanting to grab each sound his father made. “Take what? Take you?” He couldn’t. His father couldn’t make the trip, unless he was sedated the whole time, and even then his breathing would make it too difficult…

  But Caz took a deep breath. “Of course, Dad. I’ll take you.” Once he said it, he was astonished at how good it felt.

  He believed it, too. That was the strangest part.

  “I’ll put you in the truck, and we’ll go up the coast road. Then we’ll cut inland through the redwoods—they’re still your favorite tree, I bet. Mine, too. We’ll get there before dark and even though I have no furniture, I still have that little hibachi. I set it out on the deck, and I have a bag of charcoal, ready to go. I haven’t cooked a steak there yet, but we’ll do that together.”

  Tony gave a sigh and closed his eyes. Was it a happy sigh? An uncomfortable one?

  Caz kept talking. Kept hoping. “So we’ll sit out on the porch, and then you’ll get to see how the light drops there over the pond to the west. It’s why I put the front porch where I did. Every night, to be able to sit there and rest, and watch the way the water ripples as the trout grab the early evening moths… You’ll love it. We’ll go.” He said it again. “We’ll go soon.”

  “Her.”

  Caz held his breath.

  “Not me. Her,” said his father, his eyes still closed.

  Tony hadn’t made this much sense in six months. Maybe more.

  How could Caz trust the words? How could he trust they weren’t just nonsense? The garbled brain of his father whirring in a body that was shutting down?

  Then it sunk into him, into his very bones.

  Caz got to choose what he believed. The truth was…his own.

  He got to make it. To believe it.

  He felt rocked back, a sonic boom sounding in his chest.

  He got to choose the truth.

  “I’ll take her. To the cabin. I will. If she’ll have me, that is.”

  His father opened his eyes once, looked right at him, and then closed them again. In that glance was everything Caz needed to know. What he needed to believe.

  “I can’t promise anything. I lied to her, and I’m not sure she’s going to forgive me, Dad. But I’ll try.” He looked at the wooden wolf, still clutched in his hand. He knew what was wrong with it now.

  He didn’t want to be the lone wolf. Not anymore.

  Caz wanted to be with Bonnie. He wanted to love her as long as the sun burned overhead, and when it collapsed, he wanted to love her through the black eternal night.

  “I promise you this, Dad. I’ll try my damnedest.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Lexie was in the parking lot fighting with her car when Bonnie rode up on her bicycle. Lexie was cursing, pulling at a bag that appeared to be wedged in the backseat.

  “You code four?”

  Lexie scowled at Bonnie’s backpack. “I have too much stuff. I don’t know how you bring so little to work. How do you do that?”

  It was a relief, seeing Lexie first. Bonnie was terrified of coming to work, of the moment she’d have to face Caz, scared to death she wouldn’t be able to pull it off when she was near him. She wasn’t even sure what she had to pull off (breathing? Being alive? Pretending she wasn’t totally, life-alteringly and tongue-numbingly in love with him?) but she was going to have to work hard at it. So hard.

  Bonnie could hide the truth when she had to, yes. She could keep her emotions in check and not show when a bad call got to her. When her aunt had died of a heart attack the year before, Bonnie hadn’t cried once—once again, she’d stayed solid for her mother to lean on. Someone had to pick up the pieces.

  But hiding how she felt about Caz…

  Well, she would just have to. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice.

  “I have stuff.” Bonnie hiked her backpack higher onto her shoulder. “Granola bars. Hard-boiled eggs in case the food fund runs out again. My uniform shirts that I didn’t iron. Hey, why are the rigs all parked in the south lot?”

  “You have all that in that little backpack?” Lexie pushed her hair out of her red face and pulled harder on the straps of her bag.

  “Let me help.” Bonnie leaned her bike against Valentine’s truck, and both she and Lexie pulled. The bag finally came free, spilling produce all over the ground. Carrots, spinach, peas, blueberries—all of it went bouncing on the concrete, looking like an overturned farmer’s market table.

  “Crap,” sighed Lexie. “That’s like thirty bucks right there.”

  “What are you doing with all this?” Bonnie picked up a beet and held it up by its green end. “Where’s your chocolate stash?”

  Lexie sighed. “Juicing. Smoothie-ing. Something. It’s Coin’s idea…” Her hand went to her lower abdomen.

  Bonnie gasped. “You’re pregnant.”

  Lexie blushed. “Nah…”

  “You are. I c
an tell. Look at you. Oh, Lexie!”

  Lexie’s face was a mixture of relief and dismay, a smile followed by a grimace. “You can tell? I haven’t even put on a pound yet. I’ve lost two, in fact, with all this stupid health food stuff. Don’t tell anyone. It’s still a secret for now, just until I get big as a house…and…”

  “Lexie!” A handful off spinach in one hand, a bunch of cilantro in the other, Bonnie hugged her. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Yeah, well. Thanks.” A huge grin. “We’re happy.”

  “Good.”

  Lexie shoved three bananas in her canvas bag and went for two apples that were making a break for it. Then she held up a carrot. “You think this is clean? It only hit the ground for a second, right? And what about you?”

  “Me?” Bonnie made her voice bright. “What about me? This is about you!”

  “You took last tour off.”

  “What are vacation hours for, huh? Just stacking ’em up, doing nothing with them…All work and no play, you know.”

  Lexie looked at her suspiciously and took a bite of carrot. Around the mouthful, she said, “Ten days off in a row isn’t like you. You go anywhere?”

  Bonnie thought of how she’d gone between the couch and the bed. Several times, in fact. “Nowhere special. Saw a few people.” On her TV.

  “How are you and…” Lexie’s voice trailed off.

  “Caz?” Bonnie folded her lips and thought about the question. How were they? They were done. That was the simple answer.

  The more difficult answer was something she’d spent long dreary hours on the couch thinking about while the television flickered reality shows at her. She’d been right about sticking to her guns when she told Caz he had to shelter his father, that he had to make this world—the current one—the most pleasant place possible for a strong cowboy who was dying ignominiously.

  But Caz was right, too. She’d hidden her real feelings for him behind her anger and confusion.

  He didn’t feel the same way she did. He’d told her so. Oh, he felt something for her, sure. She knew that. He felt lust, and he felt excitement. He’d been clear, though, that he didn’t feel anything more than that.

  Bonnie was just going to have to handle that.

  She had no idea how. But she would handle it, just like she always handled the difficult things.

  And she would only cry at home, alone.

  Lexie was still staring at her, apparently waiting for the answer.

  “Um, we’re…”

  “Whoops. See you!” Lexie waved the carrot and four bags in Bonnie’s direction and hurried toward the building.

  From behind her, Bonnie heard the sound of a bicycle bell.

  “Hiya.” Caz coasted to a stop, dismounting from the bike. Instead of looking like a kid, he looked like a cowboy stepping off a horse, fluid and easy. He made the bike seem like a tool, something he used. He made it sexy. Damn him.

  “Hi,” Bonnie said. She was grateful her voice worked. “You look…natural on that.”

  “What do they say? It’s like riding a bike?” He smiled.

  How was she possibly going to live through this? A whole forty-eight hours of him? Looking like that? His jaw was broad and clean-shaven, as if he’d just wiped off the shaving cream, and his eyes were clear.

  Nerves shot along her spine. “Why are you on your bike?”

  “Why are you on yours?” he countered.

  “Because…I love it.”

  “Ah. Me, too.”

  “You love your bike.”

  “I do. I love lots of things I’m not very good at admitting to.”

  The nerves turned to lightning. Bonnie wouldn’t…couldn’t… She changed the subject. “You rode from the ranch?”

  “Yep.”

  “All the way? That’s a long ride.”

  “Worth it,” was all he said, and he looked at her.

  Bonnie felt a warmth start, just under her skin.

  Caz leaned his bike up against the rack and locked it as if it were something he did every day. Then he straightened, and reached for her handlebars. She let him take her bike without protesting. If stars fell to the ground and lay there sparkling, she would have been less surprised.

  “I missed you last week,” Caz said.

  “You missed me.” Was this all she was going to do? Just restate his words, inanely, over and over?

  “I did.”

  “You…” She felt anger then, bright as sparks from a bonfire leaping in the starless sky. “You can’t just…say that.”

  “I’m pretty used to saying what I want to say.”

  “I know,” Bonnie said. “It’s not your most attractive feature.”

  Undaunted, Caz said, “What would you say is?”

  “Your ability to be quiet for a whole forty-eight hours.” It was snippy and Bonnie wanted to take it back as soon as she said it.

  But Caz said, “Fair enough.” He rocked back on his heels as if he had all day to look at her.

  For a moment, Bonnie wished he did. The way he was drinking her in with his eyes, the way he looked at her like she was something beautiful, something special and good…

  “We’d better get in there,” she said, pointing at the door.

  “Guess so,” said Caz, as if he were in no hurry at all to get changed into his uniform. As if he all he wanted to do was stand in the sunshine with her.

  Bonnie ached. “I have to get dressed,” she said.

  “Okay. Then meet me at the rig, will you? I have something for you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Bonnie took her time putting on her work clothes. She took another shower, even though she’d taken one at home before she left the house. She stood with her chin on the windowsill and watched the trees swaying behind the station as the hot water beat down on her. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, the way Caz had touched her that night—the one night they’d had together.

  It would be enough.

  It would have to be enough.

  The overhead pager came to life with a squawk. “Maddern, to the app bay. Maddern, app bay.” Tox’s voice. She peered suspiciously out the window to see if anyone was lurking in the flowerbed again, but she saw nothing.

  She toweled off quickly and put her uniform on. At least if Tox wanted her in the bay, it wouldn’t be just her and Caz out there—alone—with the ambulance.

  When Bonnie pushed open the heavy door that led to the bay, she blinked. Then she blinked again, harder.

  It was dark inside, but that was nothing new. The only windows in the huge room were the small glass panes in the roll-up doors, and they never let in much light.

  What stopped her in her tracks were the candles.

  They burned in two rows on the floor, making a well-defined path to the stage.

  The stage! It was still set up.

  Rather, it must have been re-set-up, because it had to have been taken apart in the ten days she’d had off work. But this explained why she’d seen the rigs parked outside—there was nothing between Bonnie and Caz but forty paces and daytime candlelight.

  And Caz was wearing a tux.

  The tips of her fingers tingled and her mouth went dry. If Bonnie had thought he looked devastating in his utilities, he looked twice as dangerous in the dark black fabric, the jacket sitting perfectly on his wide shoulders, a nervous smile hovering over his bow tie.

  “What are you doing?” But Bonnie’s voice was soft, and they were still miles apart.

  Caz just stood there. As if he was waiting for her.

  She took a few steps forward, tentatively. Then she looked over her shoulder. Were the guys going to jump out at her? Was this some kind of grotesque practical joke? It was Tox, after all, who’d made the announcement over the speaker that got her to the bay. What if this was somehow making fun of her for how she’d come across at the fundraiser? Or if they were all teasing her for sleeping with him? Would they do that? They were her work brothers. They
shouldn’t…

  But Caz’s fingers twitched at his sides, and she could see the tension in his jaw, even across the wide room. He was as shaken as she was by the thing that pulled between them.

  She took three more steps toward him. Slowly. Then five. Finally, she was close enough for him to hear her.

  “You’re not in uniform,” she said.

  He looked down at his tux. “Nope.”

  “What if we get a medical?”

  “Well, now.” There was a country cowboy twang in his voice to match the black cowboy boots on his feet. “I guess you’ll have to drive while I strip-change in the back of the ambo.”

  A vivid picture of what he looked like underneath the tux played behind her eyes, and she felt her cheeks heat. “What are you doing?”

  “Apologizing.”

  “For what?” She was the one, after all, who’d told him callously his father was dying. She was the one who had lied to him, saying she didn’t know if she was in love with him or not. Chicken. That’s all she was. “Caz, I have to tell you something.”

  “No, wait.” He reached down for her hand and pulled her up on stage with him. “Let me do this.”

  Bonnie gave a high-pitched giggle that was nothing more than frantic nerves. She looked around again. “Are we being recorded or something?”

  Caz shook his head. “No.”

  Good lord. She felt even more ridiculous. “I know. I know you’re not. I don’t know what I’m saying…” Just being this near him put her brain on the fritz. Soon she’d fizzle and melt into the ground, and they’d have to scrape her off the concrete like old gum.

  “Bonnie. Listen.” He took her other hand. “Listen to me, okay? I’m—”

  The tones pealed through the station as the lights flashed and the doors rolled up. Lexie’s voice rolled out through the station speakers, “Engine One, Rescue One, medical, female down.”

  “Crap.” Caz gripped her hands tightly for one more second, then let go. “I guess I’m getting naked in the ambulance.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  In the fire service, there was driving code three—going as fast as you could possibly go—and then there was the unofficial code-three-and-a-half, which was driving just a little bit faster than that. When Lexie gave the update, saying an elderly female had been found down in her house, alone and bleeding, Bonnie stepped it up to the latter.