Rescued By Love: Park City Firefighter Romance Page 2

  He handed the hose off to Model Man. “Here, Boot. Load it up.” Then he came right into Sage’s personal space. She had him by an inch, and she could tell it bugged him. “Heya, my beautiful Amazon. You realize we could’ve broken your windows or rolled this Jeep over, but I held the guys back because that’s the kind of guy I am.”

  “You mean a loser?” The firefighter girl taunted him. “Shut it, JFK and get in the truck.”

  “I’m working something here.”

  “Working a rejection.” She shot back. She and Model Man strode away to the truck.

  “What do you think, my gargantuan Barbie Doll?” Porky grinned at her. “You buy me dinner to make up for parking in our way?”

  “In your daydreams.” Sage managed to get out. Who was this loser, and how dare he keep making fun of her height? Didn’t men realize she hated being taller than them more than they hated having insecurities about it?

  “Ah, come on, don’t be like that. I got a lot of buddies on the police force. You wanna parking ticket, or you wanna have dinner with a firefighting stud?”

  A true firefighting stud appeared on the threshold of the restaurant, and the sight of him sucked the oxygen out of Sage. He wasn’t picture perfect like Model Man. He was the kind of rugged handsome that belonged on a mountain man poster, minus the beard. He’d look good with a beard too, but she really liked seeing his tanned face. He had a look that let a woman know he would rescue her from a mountain lion and make her sigh with longing at the same time. His eyes were almost a navy blue, dark and full of promise. His lips were well formed with a nice arch on the top and a full lower lip. He zeroed in on her, and she stumbled a bit.

  Porky reached out a hand to steady her. “Hey now, beautiful. I know I have an effect, but don’t go falling into my arms when I’m on the clock. You’re big enough I might not be able to catch you.”

  “Get in the truck, JFK.” Mountain Man ordered.

  “Ah, Cap, you’re ruining my play here.”

  “Truck, now.” He didn’t even raise his voice, but the command in that bass made Sage back up a step.

  Porky groaned, but stomped around her Jeep. “I’ll find you later, Hot Gigantor,” He called back to her.

  Sage ignored him, completely focused on Mountain Man and wondering what he was going to do to her. She’d parked her Jeep in the way of a fire truck, and this guy was obviously in command. He slowly walked toward her. The turnout coat and pants made him look even bigger than he probably was, but she could tell he was built, and it wasn’t fluff like Porky.

  As he came closer, she found herself slowly backing away. She hit her Jeep and couldn’t go anywhere. He stopped a couple of feet away, not getting into her space like Porky had, but she still felt surrounded by him—the commanding way he carried himself and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

  “I-I’m sorry?” She squeaked out.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Sorry for JFK hitting on you?”

  She shook her head quickly and gestured toward her sopping wet vehicle.

  “This is your Jeep.” Understanding lit his eyes. “And JFK was going to rip you a new one until he saw how gorgeous you are.”

  She bit at her lip. He’d just called her gorgeous. He was tall enough he wasn’t intimidated by her height, yet he didn’t look too friendly. She was obviously in the wrong here, but it ticked her off that Porky, or JFK, had sprayed her vehicle.

  “Okay, I know I shouldn’t have parked here. I was just running in quickly, and your guy acted like a total dipwad and sprayed the interior of my Jeep. Look!” She gestured behind her.

  He took another step closer, and now she really couldn’t breathe. Peering over her shoulder, he blew out a breath. “That was uncalled for, but you do realize it’s illegal to park in front of a fire hydrant?” He glanced down at her, and her thoughts scattered. The way he was looking at her should be illegal. All smoky hot and stern at the same time. She’d never understood the obsession with powerful authority figures, but this guy just had it going on.

  “Is it legal to damage private property?”

  His eyebrows lifted again. “No. Did JFK damage your Jeep?” He glanced over it again.

  She wasn’t sure yet. Luckily, the floor was rubber, and she should be able to clean it up if she worked hard, but the seats and the stereo could be a different story. “I’ll probably have to detail it, and the stereo and leather seats might be ruined.”

  His eyes swept over her. “Come over to the station with a bill for any damage and the detail, and I’ll make sure JFK pays it.”

  She’d just bet he would make sure. How would anybody ever tell this guy no? She almost felt like he’d issued her a challenge. Come see me again sometime, or something like that. It definitely wasn’t overdone or creepy like Porky. It was seductive, and she wouldn’t mind seeing him again sometime at all. Yet there was no way she’d go to the station and face all those firefighters again. They probably all hated her for parking in their way.

  “I just might,” she said, putting as much sass as she could manage into her tone.

  He grinned, and she clung to the side mirror for support. His smile made him so appetizing she wanted to beg his forgiveness for being in their way and beg him to let her take him to dinner as penance like Porky had suggested she do with him.

  “I’ll look forward to it, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his firefighter hat thing, and she could’ve sworn she’d been transported to an old John Wayne film. She had to remind herself that she was a capable, twenty-first century woman, not the little sweetie who fawned over the big old Mountain Man/Cowboy/Hot Firefighter.

  He gave her one more grin before striding around her Jeep and climbing into the passenger side of their huge fire rig. Sage stood still and watched him go.

  “See you later, beautiful.” Porky called out from the back seat.

  Sage focused on her Mountain Man and loved that he glanced her way and gave her one more devastating smile before they roared away.

  “Well, sweetheart.” The older lady from the store was suddenly standing right next to her. “It could’ve been a lot worse than a fine-looking firefighter giving you the what for.”

  “Yes, it could have.”

  “I’d take a reaming from that man any day o’ the week.” She fanned herself.

  Sage giggled, relieved it had gone so well and replaying every look that man had given her and every word he’d uttered. “I didn’t mind it at all.”

  “You’d better go and see him at the fire station. Take him a treat, and I bet that grin he gives you then will be even more sexy.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially.

  Sage wasn’t sure that grin could get any sexier. She thought of her mom’s “Knock You Naked Brownies,” stolen from the Pioneer Woman’s website, and smiled. She would turn on the sugar and see if that commanding man could be softened up, and maybe, if she was really lucky, he’d ask her out.

  Chapter Three

  Monday morning, Cam parked his quad-cab truck in the visitor parking space of the grade school and slowly climbed out. Children were some of his favorite people in the world, but he didn’t like talking in front of adults. Maybe he could ask the teacher to let him talk to her class alone. He sighed. Yeah, like that was going to happen. Leave twenty-five nine and ten-year-olds alone with someone she didn’t know. At least the material was as familiar as JFK’s nonstop chatter.

  He checked in with the front desk, put his guest tag on, and sauntered down the hallway. Arriving at his assigned classroom, he wondered what Miss Turner would be like. She’d emailed him a few weeks ago requesting he come talk to her class about fire safety. They’d started an email conversation that he had enjoyed more than he wanted to admit. He didn’t really converse with people outside his fire crew, his sister, the boys on his lacrosse team, and the mom who organized the youth lacrosse teams. He’d gotten to know her when she had a small electrical fire at her house, and she’d recruited him to coach six years ago.

  In writ
ing, Miss Turner was witty and well-spoken. As he’d gotten to know her a little bit through the emails, she’d made him laugh with her quips about overbearing firefighters and policemen who liked to give her tickets because she had a lead foot. He wondered how she would’ve reacted if she would’ve been the beauty with the red Jeep on Saturday. He smiled thinking about how well that lady had dealt with JFK’s blatant flirtations and hadn’t even blinked an eye when Cam called her gorgeous. She’d probably heard that so much she didn’t even notice anymore. She was the type of woman men wrote poetry about—the smooth skin, the full lips, and the long, blonde hair. He loved the contrast of her deep brown eyes. He’d fantasized about her all weekend and called himself all kinds of shallow. He’d been completely intrigued by the sassy school teacher Miss Turner. Then he saw an unreal beauty, and all of a sudden, she was all he could think about.

  He scowled at himself as he pounded on the door. He wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway, so what did it matter? His sister claimed he needed to put their past behind him and find a woman, but it was much smarter and safer just to work at the fire station and coach his youth lacrosse team. He wondered if any of his players would be in Miss Turner’s class as she swung the door wide.

  “Come in …” Her voice trailed off, and she blinked up at him.

  Cam was at a loss for words too. Miss Turner was his beauty who drove a Jeep and parked in front of fire hydrants. She was tall, probably close to six feet, but he had her by at least four inches. He found himself puffing his chest out similar to what JFK would’ve done, but luckily his sister Caylee’s voice was in his head, Come on, dude, don’t act like a hormonal teenager.

  “Mountain Man,” she whispered.

  Cam gave a surprised chuckle. Her comment broke any worry he’d had about how to respond. “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, Captain Compton. Welcome.” She backed away from the door and gestured him inside.

  “Thank you, Miss Turner.” He couldn’t stop his voice from going all deep, and he couldn’t swing his eyes away from her.

  She was blushing a lovely pink as she deliberately turned from him. “Class, this is Captain Compton—”

  “Coach!” The yell came from the back of the classroom, but Cam knew exactly who it was. He heard that yell thirty times a practice.

  “Braden.” He greeted his player with a smile.

  Braden waved enthusiastically from across the room. “He’s my lacrosse coach,” he proudly told the boy next to him.

  The boy nodded respectfully. “Lucky.”

  Cam’s smile grew. Braden was one of his favorite players. The boy had a hard time standing still long enough to listen to any kind of instruction, but the kid had skill and heart. He cheered for everyone, even if they were taking his playing time. He never seemed to feel like less, even though he was the only player who was on scholarship through ULA and it was obvious all of his equipment was second-hand. Most of Park City was so filthy rich, they didn’t think a thing about buying a thousand-dollar lacrosse pole, but Braden played just as well with his slightly bent stick as any of the others. It didn’t hurt that Cam had taken the stick home one weekend when they had a bye week and restrung Braden’s head with a new StringKing kit.

  Cam almost laughed as Braden bounced in his chair. It was obvious the kid wanted to jump up and run over to give him a fist bump or something, but it looked like Miss Turner had her class under control, or maybe they were just as in awe of their gorgeous teacher as Cam was.

  “Coach Captain Compton.” Miss Turner started over, a twinkle in her dark chocolate eyes. “Welcome to our class.”

  “Welcome, Coach Captain Compton.” The class called out, some of them giggling.

  Miss Turner jumped another few notches in Cam’s estimation. She could’ve stifled Braden’s enthusiasm, but she’d validated him by adding the Coach to Cam’s name.

  Cam faced the class and splayed his hands. “It gets worse. My full name is Coach Captain Cameron Christian Compton.”

  Most of the class was laughing now.

  “The best lacrosse coach in Utah.” Braden called out.

  “Thanks, bud. My crew calls me Quad-C when they’re teasing me, but they don’t know about the coach part. How do you say C to the 5th in a really great way?”

  Miss Turner quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t know that there is a term besides C to the 5th. Maybe we could just call you Nitro-C.”

  “Nitro-C?”

  “The explosive fire fighter.”

  “Nice. I like it.” What Cam really liked was her. Would it be possible for him to ask her out after a school presentation, or would that be considered unprofessional? He’d been annoyed by a girl hitting on him at a car accident a few days ago, but now he wanted to blatantly flirt with the teacher in her classroom.

  Cam started his presentation about safety, and the class responded well. Miss Turner prompted them with questions. She was not only gorgeous, she was smart too. Why didn’t he know her first name yet? He’d never enjoyed a presentation so much, and it was over too quickly.

  After his presentation, Cam passed out stickers, plastic firefighter hats, and pencils that turned colors when they got warm. He watched Miss Turner out of the corner of his eye as she handed out the prizes to the other side of the room. He didn’t know if it was deliberate that she let him go past Braden’s desk, but he appreciated it.

  He squatted down and held out his fist. Braden gave him a pound. “Thanks, Coach! You’re the best!”

  “You are, buddy.” He ruffled Braden’s hair and was rewarded with a huge grin. He wished he could be more involved in the little man’s life, but he didn’t know how to do that without making things awkward with Braden’s mom. She was an attractive lady who seemed to be a little too interested in Cam, so he had to be careful.

  Cam and his sister had been raised by their grandmother after their parents died, so he knew how it was to be alone and had a lot of empathy for Braden and his mom. He’d heard Braden’s dad had deserted them and his mom was raising the boy by herself. She worked hard at Deer Valley resort to provide for them, but Park City wasn’t a cheap place to live.

  Cam finished handing out his paraphernalia, said goodbye to the class, and headed for the door. He was pleasantly surprised when Miss Turner followed him into the hallway.

  She shut the door and turned to face him. “Thank you. They all ate that up. I think that may have been the first time Braden sat still for half an hour.”

  He chuckled. “I’m sure he’s a handful, but he’s a great kid. His heart is gold.”

  “I know. I’ve caught boys belittling him for being poor, and instead of being upset, he asked me not to punish them.”

  It ripped him up that kids would tease Braden, but he knew it probably happened. Most of these kids had no clue how hard it was to be without. Not that he’d ever struggled financially. His parents had had large life insurance policies and savings accounts that his grandma had invested for him and his sister. They’d had plenty of everything growing up. He’d been able to play lacrosse for Brighton High in Salt Lake City and never really had money concerns. When he had graduated from college and his grandma had informed him about the millions she had stashed for each of them in the bank, he and Caylee had been shocked.

  “He’s one of my favorite players,” Cam said.

  She tilted her head to the side. “I didn’t peg you as a lacrosse coach.”

  “No?”

  “Thought you’d be chopping down a forest or hunting bears on your days off from the fire station.”

  Cam laughed. “Ha! No. Whacking little kids with sticks in my downtime is a lot more fun.”

  Her eyes widened, and he laughed again. “I’m just kidding. We don’t really hit them with the sticks. At least, not violently.”

  “Am I going to have to report you for inappropriate treatment of one of my students?”

  “Who would you report me to?” Cam arched an eyebrow.

  She smiled. “Guess nobody te
lls the Captain what to do.”

  “Battalion Chief and the lacrosse momma both try.” He winked at her, loving the banter. “Are you going to come by the fire station so I can have JFK reimburse you for the Jeep detail? We’re on Thursday and Friday this week.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe you could come to Braden’s game Saturday too. It’s at Jeremy Ranch Elementary School.”

  “Maybe.” She glanced back at her classroom.

  Cam had to smile, but he wanted to hear a firm yes. “Can I get a better commitment than maybe?”

  She bit at her lip. “I think I might be able to make those dates work.”

  His grin grew.

  “I’d better get back in there,” she said. “Make sure Braden doesn’t rile up the troops.”

  “Wait.” Cam laid his palm on her forearm.

  Her eyes darted up to his. He was struck again at the depth of those dark brown eyes.

  “I need to know your name.”

  “You know my name.” She smirked at him.

  “Miss Turner isn’t enough. I need to know your first name.”

  “Need to know, huh?”

  He nodded. It was a physical need at this point. The witty school teacher who’d captured him through emails was the same feisty beauty he’d been fantasizing about. Yes, he definitely needed to know her name, and he didn’t want to take no for an answer.

  “Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe when Porky pays for my detail, I’ll tell you.”

  “Porky?” Cam laughed hard. “Porky? Oh, Emily is going to love that one.”

  Miss Turner smiled and took another step into the classroom.

  Cam grabbed the door above her head. “You can’t just leave me without a name.”

  “Watch me.” She strode into the classroom.

  Cam watched her go, smiling to himself. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Braden waving at him again. Returning the wave, he let the door close, accepting that she’d won this round of flirtations. Maybe she’d come by the fire station. Maybe she’d come to the game Saturday. But he wasn’t back on shift until Thursday, and the game wasn’t any closer being on the weekend. He didn’t know if he was patient enough to wait for either event.