It's a Wonderful Fireman: A Bachelor Firemen Novella (The Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel) (11 page)

“Remember what you promised,” he whispered to her afterward as he zipped his pants and she squirmed into her abandoned dress. “We’re doing this again. Again and again.”

“I always keep my promises,” she said with a seriousness that took him by surprise. “I don’t make them unless I mean them. What about you?”

“I told you,” he said, matching her sober tone. “I don’t want this to stop.”

She gave him a level, assessing glance, looking nothing like the wild girl who’d come against his mouth. “Okay then.”

And then someone finally rattled the doorknob, and she flattened herself against the wall, gesturing for him to open the door. She made funny faces at him the whole time he tried to explain to Rachel that he’d needed a little nap.

The adoration he felt for her scared him senseless.

“T
HAT WAS A
great night,” he told Dream Lizzie. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you for weeks after that night.”

“I remember.”

“We did a good job keeping it secret.”

“We sure tried hard.” Dream Lizzie rested her chin on her hand, looking a little sad.

In the fraught silence, he thought about all their take-out meals and bedroom romps, their entire relationship conducted behind closed doors. “I didn’t want everyone talking about us. Firehouses love gossip.”

“Right.”

He bristled. “You wanted to keep a low profile too. I figured you didn’t want your family knowing you were seeing a ruffian like me.”

She looked up, her pretty mouth pressed into a firm line. “Didn’t you just finish saying I was tough? Don’t you think I could have handled my family?”

“Yes,” he said, a sense of recognition dawning. “You could have. You can handle the Breen brothers, pilot training, EMT training, and broke-down Dean Mulligan. You can probably handle anything.”

“Even . . . cancer.”

She whispered the word, which drifted through the air like smoke. It took him a moment to understand.

“Cancer,” he repeated stupidly. Shock shivered through him as the knowledge clicked into place. “That’s why you volunteer at the Children’s Wing. That’s why you’re so devoted to becoming a flight paramedic. That’s why all your brothers are so protective. And why your mother looks at you like you’re a miracle. That’s why you have so many doctor appointments. You have cancer?”

“Had. When I was a kid.”

“You never told me.”

She held his gaze, her absurdly perky elf costume at odds with her serious manner. “I was afraid to. You wanted things to be casual, remember? Cancer isn’t exactly casual.”

There was nothing casual about his feelings for Lizzie. Nothing. “I never said that.”

“You said you couldn’t build a future with me. That hurt, Mulligan. That really hurt.” She snapped her fingers.

“No, Lizzie, don’t go!”

Too late. She was gone.

Ah, hell
. He let out a pained snort of laughter, which stirred a puff of smoke through the heavy air. How stupid he’d been, thinking that Lizzie was too sheltered to handle his rough past. He’d underestimated her. He’d been trying to protect her when he’d told her they had no future.

He hadn’t meant that he was going to die trapped under a Christmas tree. But right now, it looked like he’d been right. No future for him and Lizzie. Not even in his hallucinations.

Chapter Seven

T
HE FORMER
S
AN
Gabriel firefighters got pressed into service shortly after their conversation about Mulligan’s first day. The crew on the Yogurtland fire needed help keeping the area clear, so the off-duty guys volunteered for civilian-wrangling duty. Brody went to consult with the IC, who had radioed him with a question. Finally only Lizzie was left, watching forlornly as all the others busied themselves with some essential task.

With no one talking to her, at least for the moment, Lizzie couldn’t hide from the thoughts crowding into her mind. Maybe it was her optimistic side, but when she pictured Mulligan inside the collapsed building, she didn’t see him crushed and destroyed. She saw him roaring back at the debris trying to bury him, or tearing apart rubble with his bare hands. Mulligan was a force of nature, practically. She saw him as a wounded lion, someone with a mighty heart who’d suffered some deep damage. So many things could have killed him—had even tried to kill him—but he always survived.

He’d survive this too, right?

Unable to stand still, she paced as close to the line of rigs as she dared, until smoke burned her nostrils and she had to bury her face in the crook of her elbow.

Mulligan didn’t talk much about his childhood, but she’d picked up enough. She knew his mother was in and out of drug rehab and that he’d been placed in foster care a few times. She knew his stepfather abused him. She knew he still sent his mother money, but it tore him up because often she used it for drugs. She knew that he’d fought the odds his whole life, and as far as she was concerned, he’d won, a thousand times over.

So had she, since being diagnosed with leukemia at the age of ten. Why had she never told him about the three years she’d spent getting bone marrow transplants and blood transfusions?

Simple reason. She wanted him to treat her as an adult, a healthy, red-blooded, sexually mature adult. And boy, had he.

After that first amazing time at Rachel’s apartment, they’d started up a steamy affair. She told no one that she was seeing Mulligan, and they never went out in public. She didn’t want everyone’s comments and opinions. She just wanted him. Often he spent his entire off day with her, closed up in her apartment, making love in every room, every position, every dirty, sexy way she’d ever imagined. And many she hadn’t.

Mulligan was a bona fide sex god, no doubt about it. His scarred body held so much power that one glimpse of his bare chest would get the flutters going. He only had to look at her with those dark, hungry eyes for liquid heat to run through her veins. And when his voice dropped to that tense, sexy growl—“take off your blouse . . . put your hands up there . . . turn over . . .”—oh my God, she just about lost her mind. Mulligan did something to her at a chemical, molecular level. All he had to do was walk through the door and she wanted him.

And he wanted her just as badly, if not more. How could he look at her with so much hunger and reverence if he didn’t?

But then had come that awful day. She’d been watching Fred’s neighbor kids, the Sinclair brothers, and Mulligan had come over and sparred with them. Mulligan was great with the boys, a sort of drill sergeant crossed with edgy comedian. They loved him. And for the first time, Lizzie allowed herself to hope. Maybe she could tell him everything. Maybe her medical situation wouldn’t be the turnoff she feared. Maybe she should tell him now . . . or soon.

When the Sinclair boys finally rocketed out the door to go home, she curled next to Mulligan on the couch. “You’re going to be one of those tickle-fight dads, aren’t you? The kind who takes his kids to ball games and feeds them too many hot dogs.”

All the laughter drained out of his expression. “What are you talking about? Why are you talking about kids? We’ve used a condom every time.”

She drew back, her hand sliding off his forearm. “I know that.”

“Then what are you getting at?”

“Nothing! I’m just saying you like to play with kids. That’s a good thing, not an insult.”

But his face only tightened further, into hard, distant lines. “I’m not that guy, Lizzie. I’m not what you think.”

“What I
think
? How do you know what I think?”

“Okay then. What
do
you think? Lay it on me, Lizzie. Keep it real.”

She opened her mouth to tell him everything—her feelings, her history. But she was afraid, afraid he’d walk away forever if he knew all that. So she turned it into the kind of joke he could handle. “I think you’re an idiot, of course. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

He didn’t crack so much as a smile. “Idiot, that’s me. Don’t forget it and start putting us in some picket-fence fantasy world.”

Passionate fury seized her and she jumped off the couch. “How could I forget it when you keep acting like one?”

“You can’t. You shouldn’t. I’m just keeping it real, sweetheart. I am who I am, and that’s not someone to build a future with. I’m not that guy with the tickle fights and the hot dogs and the happy-ever-after.” He followed her lead, rising to his feet and grabbing his jacket. “I swear to God, I don’t want to hurt you, Lizzie. Maybe we need to cool it.”

Oh, how she’d hated him in that moment.

And yet the image of Mulligan patiently letting the Sinclair twins practice their high kicks on him kept taunting her. He
was
“that guy,” she knew it in her bones. But would he ever let himself see that?

R
EACHING
T
RUCK
1, Lizzie ran a hand across its shiny red wheel well. Mulligan had driven here in this rig, right after their phone conversation about her new job. He hadn’t told her to stay in San Gabriel, but on the other hand, he hadn’t seemed too happy about her news. She didn’t want to move to Canada. But if Mulligan insisted on keeping their relationship half-assed, she couldn’t stay here, where she saw him around town, at the station, with her brother. Longing for him all the while. That’s why she’d applied for the Canada job.

But all that seemed very far away right now. All she wanted was for Mulligan to live.

“Lizzie.” Fred approached the rig. With his face mask pushed up, she saw how grim he looked. Was he about to tell her the worst?

Frozen with dread, she couldn’t bring herself to say so much as “hello.”

“Nothing new,” he said quickly. “I only have a minute.”

No news was good news, wasn’t it? She relaxed slightly. “Are you doing okay?”

“Frustrated, but at least I’m on the RIC team. Rapid Intervention Company. We’re standing by to go in, should be soon. Still can’t raise Mulligan.”

“Okay.” She dragged in a deep breath, drawing on all the times she’d braced herself for news from a doctor or a lab. “But what does your gut instinct say?”

“I don’t want you to count on that, Lizzie.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “It doesn’t matter anyway. As far as I’m concerned, he’s alive until proven otherwise.”

Her favorite brother managed a smile. “That’s what I’m going with too. And my gut instinct says he’s Mulligan, and he’s probably telling that rubble to go fuck itself. I’m not ready to give up, and neither is the crew. But the IC’s getting antsy. If Mulligan weren’t inside, we’d already have gone defensive on this one.”

Lizzie clenched her fists as a geyser of panic shot through her. “I’ll talk to the IC. Where is he? He can’t give up. He can’t.”

“Calm down, Lizzie. Brody’s on it. We’re not going to give up on him.” Her brother pulled her into a hug, enveloping her in the familiar, comforting stink of retardant and smoke. Sure, maybe most people wouldn’t find that smell appealing, but to her it meant Fred, who had always been there for her, and his fellow firefighters.

One in particular.

“You really care about Mulligan, don’t you?” Fred murmured in her ear.

She nodded against the rough padding of his jacket. “I love him.”

He put a slight distance between them so he could examine her face. She felt a hot blush coming on. “That sounds serious.”

“Yeah. Well. It had to happen sometime.” Fred had seen her through countless heartbreaks; he’d comforted her with Ben & Jerry’s and a stash of chick flicks he kept on hand just for her. But her feelings for Mulligan had been different from the very beginning.

“Are you sure? Because Mulligan is . . . he’s got a past. He doesn’t talk about it, but I think he’s been through some bad shit in his time.”

“And I haven’t?”

He acknowledged her point with a wince. “Yeah, you have. But I have a feeling he grew up rough. You should see some of his scars.”

At her meaningfully raised eyebrow, her handsome brother turned red as a Christmas ribbon. “Right. Never mind. Not going there,” he muttered.

“Remember after the earthquake, how Mulligan pulled you out with his bare hands, while you held on to Rachel?”

“I’m not saying he’s not a good fireman. Or a good guy.”

“He’s a wonderful fireman,” said Lizzie fiercely. “And a wonderful person. I know he has some rough edges and that caustic sense of humor. But geez, Freddie. He came from an abusive, neglectful family, and look at what he’s achieved. He’s so smart, and I don’t just mean that he has a degree in fire science. You’ve seen how he studies a situation and notices every tiny detail. Ask him any question about the chemistry or physics of fire and he knows the answer. And he’s strong. He works his ass off. How many guys dream about playing professional baseball? He did it. I don’t care if it was only the minors. He made his baseball dream come true. Then he decided to change his career path, and again, he worked hard and succeeded. Do you know how many firefighters are personally recruited by Captain Brody? Not too many, I bet. Mulligan is special. He’s . . . extraordinary. Those scars . . . to me they’re proof of what an incredible person he is. He took all that violence and turned it around into something good. Something amazing.”

She snapped her mouth shut at the bemused look on her brother’s face. “What?”

“You really have it bad for Mulligan. I didn’t know. I knew you were seeing each other, even though you tried to keep it quiet.”

“Tried to keep what quiet?” Sabina joined them. Her gloves under one arm, she screwed the top off a water bottle and poured water down her throat. “Yogurtland’s under control,” she added. “The 6s got it covered.”

“Lizzie and Mulligan,” Fred explained. “They thought no one knew.”

Sabina spurted water into the air, making Lizzie jump back. “Sorry,” she murmured when she had control of herself again. “But you know how firehouses are. And it was so juicy.”

For the first time, an emotion other than dread took hold of Lizzie. Mortification was almost worse. “People talked about us at the firehouse?”

“No topic is off-limits, as long as it’s sufficiently embarrassing,” Sabina explained. “Watching Mulligan fall for you provided hours of entertainment for the crew.”