Chapter 19
Sophie
Several muscled men in Cozy Creek Fire Brigade uniforms stared down at me. It was the Cozy Creek Fire Brigade charity calendar come to life. They weren’t shirtless in hot pants and suspenders as they should be, but their colored little station uniforms were almost as cute.
“Could be worse,” I muttered. The afterlife had a lot more muscles than I would have imagined. A lot more silly mustaches too.
A cool washcloth was pressed softly to my forehead. I blinked to sharpen my blurred vision and found Pace Leigh holding the damp cloth to me.
“I’m dead,” I whispered. “So pretty.” I reached a hand up to pat the cheek of Mr. August.
“She’s adorable,” another one said. This firefighter had short, cropped black curls, a diamond in his left ear, and dimples so deep when he grinned at Pace, they gave him a run for his money. The name embroidered on his uniform read “Lt. Jones.”
“Did she hit her head?” someone else asked. I couldn’t see them, but I vaguely remembered the voice from the night of the bonfire.
“I don’t know what happened.” Pace sounded grumpy, which was so far from normal. “I’m trying to figure that out. But she lost a decent amount of blood.”
“She’s got a strong pulse,” a different, good-looking man said.
“Thank you, Mr. April,” I said back to him, the one with dark hair that swooped like Clark Kent’s.
“Your reputation precedes you, Walker,” Lt. Jones grinned.
Walker, apparently not just Mr. April, grunted a response. “That calendar makes a mockery of us.”
“No.” I tried to sit up to defend that work of art that was the Cozy Creek Fire Brigade charity calendar. Gentle hands pressed me back down onto a soft cot.
“Easy, tiger,” Pace whispered. “That’s what got you here to begin with.”
“You are wrong about the CC—CCFB—CCFBC.” I made raspberries to clear out my mouth. “The calendar. It’s empowering. You should be proud.” I shook a fist at Walker. Or I tried to, but I was pretty sure my hand was still limp at my side.
But he got the gist. The other guy looked very abashed. Or something. Maybe amused.
It didn’t matter. Things were becoming clearer now.
I was lying in the fire station, on the floor.
The tall ceiling of the garage was above me, the smell of squeaky-clean rubber and cement all around.
To the left, one of Cozy Creek’s finest fire trucks gleamed, and to the right, cubbies with the boots, pants, coats, and gear that kept the firefighter safe sat ready to go.
Very smart. I should do something like that, and maybe my closet wouldn’t be so chaotic.
“Sure we shouldn’t call Doc?” Mr. April asked.
“For the tenth time, Walker, no. Not until Pace says so. For claiming to not like our new doctor, you are sure eager to see her.” This one had warm, friendly eyes and a mustache that extended down like a fuller version of what I thought was called the Fu Manchu.
“Sorry, I’m worried about the safety of his friend,” Walker mumbled.
I was overwhelmed by all the fuss my presence seemed to be causing. I wasn’t hating it, but I found myself wishing that I was meeting Pace’s coworkers under better circumstances.
These were the men he spent most of his life with, ate meals with, trauma bonded with.
I swallowed, and my mouth still tasted like iron, and I tongued a spot on the inside of my upper lip where I thought I might have a small cut. My brain threatened to remember the events at the bank, and I wasn’t ready.
Instead, I looked to Pace, who was balanced on his toes, crouched down to my level on the cot.
“Did I swoon? Am I a swooner now?” This time, as I leaned up to balance on my forearms, Pace helped me sit up, albeit very slowly. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah. You lost a lot of blood. And then moved a little too fast. When was the last time you ate?” he asked, worry still creasing his face.
I was so used to seeing the easygoing joy radiating from Pace that I didn’t care for his twisted-up features at all.
“I—um, well.” I tried to think. My head was throbbing and my mouth was parched. “I might have forgotten breakfast this morning.” I had been so anxious about the day ahead. And decided to have several cups of coffee. My mouth felt tacky with dehydration.
Pace was already handing me a cup of water with a straw as he spoke over his shoulder.
“Mason, go grab her something from the kitchen,” Pace directed. I liked stern Pace.
The youngest of them, a kid who looked straight out of high school but with the body type of the rest, turned and rushed out of the garage.
He reminded me of a large-breed dog that’s almost at its full size but still thinks it’s a puppy.
His shoulder rammed into the corner as he rounded it, calling out an “ouch” but not slowing down.
The water almost tasted sweet; I’d been so dehydrated. I smacked my lips loudly. “Mmm. Refreshing.”
“You want a sandwich? Or we just got a bunch of good cheese and jam from Sutton Farms.”
“That sounds good,” I said.
“Maybe a little prosciutto? Some crackers?”
My stomach grumbled loudly between us. Pace grinned at me, seeming to relax as he came up with a plan.
“Mason!” he shouted again, and the wide-eyed kid returned a second later. “Make her a little charcuterie tray. And use the good salami,” he added, to the chagrin of a few grumbling guys.
“We just got more of the good stuff,” Walker mumbled. Pace shot him a look, and he quieted down.
“He’s the newest recruit,” Fu Manchu said.
“Good kid,” Lt. Jones added.
“Bit of a doofus,” Walker finished.
“He’ll be all right,” Pace said. “I still think she should be checked out.” Worry passed over his features, like Mr. April was getting into his head. “Do you want me to call Doc?” he asked me.
“No.” I looked to Pace, horrified. Please don’t bring anybody else into my misery, not said out loud but heavily implied through my imploring gaze.
“No. I will give her an exam and call Doc if I need her. I think it looks worse than it is.”
“It does?” For the first time since waking up from my unplanned rest, I wondered just how bad I looked.
“It’s stopped bleeding at least,” Fu Manchu said.
“I can go spot treat her sweater,” Lt. Jones said.
“Jones is great at stain removal,” Walker added.
Three of the remaining men stood smiling, bouncing up and down on their heels, the picture of innocence.
I had no desire to take off my sweater in front of these men, no matter how adorable they were.
I was wearing one of those tight undershirts that cinched in my waist, causing my breasts to all but spill out the top.
I didn’t lose my baby fat so much as it shifted into my hips and chest.
Pace shot them yet another disappointed look.
“I’m taking her up to the showers. There’s a first aid kit up there.” He looked at the other guys. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Tell Mason to bring up her food when he’s done.”
“Yes, sir,” they said seriously.
I expected him to help me up off the cot gurney thing I lay on, but instead, he said, “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I nodded.
“Good. Just wrap your arms behind my neck.” His deep voice rumbled comfortingly through me as my body was effortlessly brought snug against his brick wall of a chest. I did as instructed with my arms and let my still-very-woozy head rest against his shoulder.
When he spun to take me away, I saw the others exchanging amused glances and raised eyebrows.
“I wanted to give you a proper tour of the firehouse.” He spoke low, voice even, and no sign of strain as he carried me up a flight of stairs. I guess there was a reason he did all that cardio training and weight lifting. “But it will have to wait for another time. I need to make sure you’re okay.”
“How long was I passed out?” I asked.
“Less than a minute. Almost as soon as I got you inside, you started to wake back up. I think it was just a head rush, combined with everything.”
“I ran an unscheduled reboot.”
“Yeah,” he said with a huffed laugh, shifting me as he got to the top of the stairs to flip on the lights.
I nodded against his shoulder and took in a deep but very subtle inhale.
“Did you just sniff me?” he asked.
“I’m weak. Confused. Who are you? Where am I?”
His low chuckle rumbled through me.
“Here, I’m gonna set you down and examine you now,” he explained.
We were in what looked like a large bathroom or a mini locker room. There were two shower stalls on one end, a large mirror with four sinks, some lockers, and a couple of benches. It smelled like men, deodorant, and testosterone.
I let myself be examined by Pace. He had a small kit filled with various medical equipment. He carefully explained each thing he did before he did it. Answered any questions I had with soothing patience. He checked my pulse and investigated my pupils. He gently cleaned the blood from my face.
Once again, I was awed by his smooth competence.
I was close enough again to see his secret freckles—my secret freckles.
I had formed an attachment to Pace that felt more special than the hundreds of loose acquaintances in town who knew and loved him.
How many people had seen his secret freckles?
Or knew his ears turned red when he was bashful?
Or that when he got angry, his lack of a smile made him look like a different person altogether?
It was so rare, I couldn’t imagine there were many.
“Can this count as the doctor’s appointment on my list?” I asked. Just so I would stop staring at him. It was making me want to lean forward and smell him again.
“I don’t think it counts, unfortunately. I have EMT training, and you didn’t make an appointment.”
“Boo,” I said with a deep frown, then said, “Ouch,” and brought my hand to my mouth.
His face grew serious in an instant. “Let me look,” he said, and I dropped my hands.
“You cut your lip,” he said, gently pushing my upper lip to look at the underside.
I winced slightly as the healing skin tugged. “Yeah.”
“Oh, Soph.” He said it so softly, his head down, looking in his bag.
“I’m okay,” I said, humiliated by his pity.
I wanted to go back to when he had been laughing with me. Was that flirting? Was there any chance in hell he was interested in me? It used to feel like an impossible dream, but I began to hope that maybe those lingering looks of his meant more.
He hadn’t asked for any explanation for what happened yet. If I were him, I’d be dying to know how someone trying to withdraw cash looked like they got in a minor car accident.
“I’m going to step out and guard the door.
Those guys are usually decent. I don’t know why they were acting as if they had never seen a pretty girl before.
” I flustered under his words, even though the last part was mostly mumbled to himself.
“If you want, uh, there’s a shirt in my locker.
Jones is actually legit at stain removal if you want him to try to save your sweater. But probably better sooner than later.”
“You don’t have to go.” Though I secretly wished for an excuse to wear his shirt. “I have a shirt on under this.” I tugged the hem of my sweater up and over my head without waiting for a response. It was rather bold of me, but I felt safe with him.
Pace went silent. His eyes were wide and unblinking as he stared at my breasts blatantly. It was shockingly ungentlemanly of him, totally out of character for this small-town good guy.
There was none of the shame I normally carried about my full breasts. Instead, the heat in his gaze made me feel powerful and tingly.
I pressed my fingertips to the exposed skin above the top, wondering if he would follow my action. I was worried I had a nipple peeking out. But no. Sure enough, the girls were threatening to spill over the tight undershirt, but there was no additional nippage.
With my movement, Pace looked up and away, blinking to himself. “Sorry. Shit. I just wasn’t—sorry,” he repeated with finality. No trying to deny it.
“I should’ve warned you. Boob alert.” I used to hide a lot of my curves under oversized clothes because when you were a full-figured woman, even the most conservative outfits had you feeling like a Jessica Rabbit–type vixen.
“You’d think I’d never seen them before.
” He huffed a forced, jovial laugh, getting back to business and wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm.
The tips of his ears were bright red. His voice was light, but there was a flush spreading up his neck, starting at his collar.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling and then flinched because, ouch. Split lip.
“Your blood pressure is higher than I would have thought. But it’s okay,” he said. He put his fingers to my neck again to check my pulse. “Heart rate is high too.” His frown deepened.
I wanted to ask how he would fare if the situation were reversed and he had an attractive woman running their hands all over him, playing doctor, but I thought it best not to point out the obvious. I just shrugged a shoulder.
“You’ll feel better once you eat.” As if on cue, there was a brisk knock on the door.
Pace returned a moment later, and the grumbling of my stomach went full beast mode.
“Sorry,” I said this time. “You’d think I’d never seen food before,” I teased back.
He chuckled, and he pushed the tray of delicious meats, cheeses, crackers, and jam toward me.
“Please, you’re free to go wild on this,” he said.
Our eyes met for another brief moment, and I looked away before I could blush.
Sure enough, after I carefully ate around my now partially swollen lip, I felt like a whole new person.
“I think I’m ready to tell you what happened,” I said.
He had been watching me in silence, his features neutral, and I had no idea what he was thinking.
When I spoke, some of that easy charm returned, eyebrows flicking.
“Only if you want.” I could tell he was twisted up with guilt, like it was somehow his fault, and I realized that he had taken my utter failure on as his own.
“It’s okay. Like a Band-Aid.”