Chapter 3
Vulcan
The moment the door swings open, the pulse of the bar hits me like a wave. I breathe it in, that scent of aged whiskey and lowered inhibitions, and for just a second, the weight on my shoulders eases.
“Looks like it’s buzzing,” Harry says, his eyes scanning the room as if he’s casing the place. Or, more likely, he’s looking for someone he wants to take home tonight. “Pretty women everywhere, too.” Right, the latter. It’s always the latter with Harry.
We sidestep a couple locked in a dance that’s more about passion than rhythm, heading to our usual spot at the end of the bar. A few others are already sipping beers and letting loose.
“Two scotches, neat,” Harry orders before I even have a chance to signal the bartender. He knows me well—knows that after a day shadowed by smoke and sirens, I want the fire in my glass instead of at my back. “Make it the good stuff, Danny!”
Not a minute later, our drinks arrive, the amber liquid promising a burn strong enough to chase away my worries for a while. “Here’s to tonight, Vulcan,” Harry says, raising his glass.
“Tonight,” I repeat. My eyes linger on the photos peppering the walls, a silent tribute to those who have served before us. Their faces, including my father’s stern one, represent legacies etched in black and white.
“Hey,” Harry probes, “remember this one?” He nods toward a picture where a much younger Thomas Montgomery stands proudly beside a fire engine, the same one I’d polish until my fingers ached.
“Hard to forget,” I say. His image, with those discerning eyes, serves as a constant reminder of the man whose shoes I’m still trying to fill. And lately I’ve been having a hard time. I’m three firefighters short since last month, and we’re feeling it on every call.
Harry raises his glass, the ice clinking over the din of the crowd. “To Thomas Montgomery,” he begins. “A man who not only fought flames but who raised the best damn fire captain this city has ever seen.”
I chuckle but lift my glass. “To my father,” I say. The scotch burns a trail down, igniting memories and reminding me of the honor and burden that comes with the Montgomery name. People assume I have everything together or should have everything together.
“May we never forget the fires he put out or the ones he started in you,” Harry adds, bringing a half smile to my lips.
“Thanks, man.” I swirl the remnants of my drink before knocking back a generous gulp.
“Remember that summer when the whole West End lit up?” I start, the scotch working fast to loosen an old valve. “Dad was first on the scene, and he didn’t even have his gear on right. He charged in like some fire-wielding titan.”
Harry leans back, a grin lifting the corners of his mouth as he nods for me to go on. He’s heard the story but listens anyway, because that’s what you do when it counts.
“Everyone made it out because of him,” I continue, feeling that familiar swell of pride. “He used to say ‘We’re not just saving buildings; we’re guarding hearts and protecting dreams.’” I didn’t get it then. I thought it was just one of his cheesy lines. But man, was he right.
I pause, tilting my head back to scan the room again.
My gaze catches a young woman with long, wavy black hair, and all the air feels like it’s been sucked out of the bar.
She meets my gaze, her dark eyes warm yet curious.
She holds it for a beat, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she turns back to her friend.
“Well, hello there,” Harry says, following my eyeline. “Wanna go over there?”
“Just admiring the view.”
“I’m sure she’s admiring it too. I did tell you your dream woman was coming.”
“She looks young. My ‘dream woman,’ as you put it, is more likely looking for a good time than a long time.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that, which is what I’m about to add when the woman glances my way once more, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
I hold her gaze and lift my glass in greeting.
“What do you say we find out her name?” Harry suggests, clapping me on the back. “She obviously doesn’t think age is a problem. And hey, if she wants to have a roll around in the sheets, who’s to judge. Sex is great when it’s done right. Now come on.”
I hesitate, but the look on his face tells me he won’t take no for an answer. “All right, one drink,” I concede, getting up from my seat. He grins triumphantly, and we make our way across the bar as though answering a siren’s call.
As we approach, I can’t help but admire the way the red dress hugs her curves, and it complements her warm chestnut complexion. She’s a vision, no doubt. But there’s something else there, a depth that I see reflected back at me every time I look in a mirror. Her eyes have seen a lot of shit.
“Hello there,” my friend says smoothly, flashing his trademark grin. “I’m Harry, and this tall drink of water here is Vulcan. Mind if we join you?” Leave it to him to be a fucking idiot—a tall drink of water?
Shithead.
She looks up at us, her gaze lingering on me for a second before turning to Harry. She doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if I read the signals wrong.
The woman next to her leans in to speak over the noise. “I suppose we could use some company. I’m Cassie, and this is my best friend, Karina.”
Karina smiles shyly. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she says, then glances at me, curiosity shining in her eyes. “Vulcan? That’s an unusual name.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a family tradition. My Dad was really into mythology.” I rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Well, I like it. Suits you.” Her voice does something to my chest that makes me feel like I’m twenty again instead of pushing forty. I slide onto the stool next to her, and before I know it, we’ve got fresh drinks in hand and are talking like old friends.
“So, Karina, what keeps you busy when you’re not at the city’s best bar?” I ask.
“I patch people up at St. Mary’s,” she says, running a delicate finger around the rim of her class. “Just survived back-to-back shifts. Cassie decided I needed tequila more than sleep.”
Speaking of her friend, looks like she and Harry have already moved to the pool table, leaving us in an intimate bubble despite Riley’s growing crowd. I cross an ankle over my knee and shift on my stool, turning to give her my full attention.
“A doctor,” I say, sipping my whiskey. “So we’re both in the business of saving lives.”
“I try.” She pauses. “I’d ask what you do, but…” Her smile changes her whole face. “I already know.” She isn’t slurring her words, but I can tell she has had a few drinks; she has that bright-eyed glow about her.
I raise an eyebrow. “Been keeping tabs on me?”
“Hard to miss a six-foot-something firefighter when he barrels through the ER.”
“Six four and fire captain,” I correct with a wink.
“Oh, excuse me. Fire captain.” She bows of her head in mock reverence, but I manage to catch her playful smile.
“Gotta make sure you’ve got all the facts, you know?” I say, leaning in slightly.
She laughs. “So, you’re one of those guys who likes his title.”
“Only when I’m trying to impress beautiful doctors,” I admit, surprising myself with my forwardness. Maybe it’s the scotch, or maybe it’s just her.
“You know, I have to admit”—I scratch at the stubble on my jaw, wondering how to word this—”I didn’t think you would be interested in me.” Direct it is.
She tilts her head, curiosity flashing across her face like she’s working out a puzzle.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I mean…” Her face flushes and she pauses, the words tripping over themselves.
“I’m not saying I am. Wait—that came out wrong.
” She cringes a little, and it could be the most charming thing I’ve ever seen.
“I think you’re handsome, so, of course I would be attracted to you. But are you meaning like romantically?”
I chuckle, her response catching me off guard and pulling me in even more.
I’ve been around enough women to know when one’s being genuine, and Karina is as real as they come.
Most women I meet either throw themselves at the uniform or keep their distance entirely, unsure of the man behind the job.
Karina seems caught somewhere in between, and it’s refreshing.
“Let’s just say I’m interested in getting to know you,” I reply, holding her gaze and hoping I’m not coming off too strong. “Whatever that might lead to.”
She shifts toward the bar, knocking back another shot of tequila. Her eyes drift toward the billiards table, lingering there for a moment on her friend. She’s wearing a look I’ve seen before, and I know I’ve spooked her.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” I press away slightly, deciding to break the awkward silence. “If you want to go back to your friend, I understand.”
She glances at me. “No, it’s not that.” She clears her throat. “I’m just not very good at this. The whole flirting thing.”
“And here I thought doctors were good at everything,” I tease gently.
“God, no. I can suture a wound blindfolded, but put me in a social situation with an attractive man and I turn into a complete disaster.”
The music changes to something slower, its pulsing beat syncing with the way my blood is rushing through my veins.
And just like that, I want to know everything about her.
What keeps her going during those grueling shifts in the pit, what makes her laugh when she’s not saving lives. Hell, I want to know her middle name.
“So, Karina,” I say, “when you get home after a double at St. Mary’s, what’s the first thing you do?” I want to see where she goes in her mind, if it’s the same place I go after a bad call: the shower, the silence, the need for something—anything—to mark the return to normal.
“Umm…” She bites her bottom lip. “Honestly, I take a hot shower and try to wash off the day.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, meeting my eyes. “Sometimes I just stand there until the water runs cold. Is that weird?”