Читать книгу Saved By The Firefighter - Rachel Brimble - Страница 12
ОглавлениеTRENT BURST THROUGH the Coast Inn doors ahead of his firefighting colleagues. He strode tall and proud through the bar, having earlier saved a family of four from a burning building. Satisfaction heated his blood, and need gathered strength for an ice-cold beer, a few games of pool and some great tunes coming from the TV rigged above the table.
Despite a shower, change of clothes and a passing hour, the lingering smell of smoke still coated the inside of his nostrils and parched his throat. He strode toward the bar and Dave, the Coast’s landlord and owner, came toward him, only to be intercepted by his wife, Vanessa. “I’ve got the boys covered, my darling,” she said. “Why don’t you go and see what the family of four at table eight would like to eat?”
Trent tried and failed to hide his smile as Dave rolled his eyes behind Vanessa’s back but obeyed her order anyway.
Trent met Vanessa’s sparkling gaze and laughed. “Not sure Dave appreciated you serving us rather than him.”
She shrugged. “Too bad. What woman in her right mind would choose a visiting family of four over three strapping and, I must say, extremely gorgeous firefighters? I might be the wrong side of forty, but that doesn’t mean a lady can’t enjoy the view. Now, what can I get you?”
Sam and Will came to the bar on either side of him and Trent looked at his friends. “Beer, lads?”
They nodded.
“Then we’ll have a pitcher of your finest lager, please, Vanessa.”
“Coming right up. Where will I find you?”
Trent nodded toward the pool table in the far corner. “It looks like our usual spot is free so we’ll be there for the duration.”
“I’ll bring it straight over.”
Laughing at her blatant appraisal of him, Will and Sam before she busied herself at the pump, Trent turned. “Pool, gentlemen?”
Sam Paterson and Will Kent led the way toward the table. Pumped and ready for a good night with the men he relied on to have his back both in and out of work, Trent fought back as Izzy slid into his mind. Not tonight. He would not think about her after such a successful day.
Thinking about Izzy—wanting her—only served to ruin his good mood whenever he had occasion to enjoy one. She’d made it painfully clear she would never consider dating him as long as he continued to fight fires.
The fact that she’d dismissed his motivation for becoming a firefighter cut him deeper than her refusal to see he might live for years. His sister had died. Didn’t she see he understood her pain? Her anger? Her fear that things would never be the same again?
He refused to believe there wasn’t a deep want inside her waiting to break free and live a little. He understood her fear and need for control. She’d found it hard to talk to anyone when Robbie died, pushing away her parents until they’d sailed away from their daughter’s anger. Then it was Trent she pushed away, then Kate and so many others.
His pain over losing his kid sister, Aimee, when she’d been in his care wasn’t so far away from Izzy’s pain of losing Robbie. Her carefully guarded control wasn’t so different than his either. He stared blindly toward the TV. Nothing was guaranteed in this world, and when you suffered losing a sibling, the lack of guarantee struck far too close to home.
He should make time this week to go home and check on his parents in Kingsley. It had been a month or so since he showed his face, and they’d be as worried about him as he was about them. His family’s need to look out for one another, to be there for one another was what Trent waited for Izzy to understand. Death could bring people closer. It didn’t have to separate them.
Guilt pressed down on him. Time and again, he went home when things got tough knowing his parents would be there with wise words and reassurance to bolster him.
Izzy didn’t have a family in the traditional sense...but she did have people who cared for her. Deeply.
“And there he goes.”
Will’s voice from across the pool table snapped Trent’s focus to his friends. “You talking to me?”
Will shook his head. “What’s with you, man? I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last couple of minutes. Thought I was going to have to resort to dancing the fandango on the pool table.”
“Now, there’s something I don’t want to see.” Trent smiled. “Ever.”
Vanessa broke the conversation by placing a pitcher of lager and three glasses on the low table beside Will. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”
Will grinned. “You do know Dave’s over there giving me the evil eye right now? I’d rather keep my manhood intact, so I’ll have to pass.”
Vanessa threw a hasty glance over her shoulder toward the bar. “You know Dave, he wants me happy above everything else.”
Trent laughed. “Sure he does, but there’s happy and there’s happy.”
Vanessa smiled and tapped Trent’s chin. “And Dave keeps me plenty happy as you know. Nothing wrong with ruffling his feathers now and then.” Her gaze turned sober. “In fact, there would be nothing wrong if a woman gave your feathers a proper ruffle one of these days. When am I going to see you and Izzy Cooper in this bar together, huh? It’s about time you patched things up and got on with that special something you two had.”
Trent’s good mood ebbed into obscurity. “If Izzy’s got anything to do with it, that ship has sailed. Permanently.”
Vanessa’s gaze turned sympathetic, which was so much less appealing than her earlier flirtation. “She’s scared of letting herself feel anything after Robbie died. We all know that, but you two are perfect together. I know it and so does everyone else in town. Don’t give up on her, okay?”
Before he could respond, Vanessa walked away, calling out hellos to everyone in her usual bubbly and welcoming way. The crash and thump of balls being tossed onto the table turned Trent’s attention. It seemed half the town sensed Izzy was meant to be with him. Yet what was he supposed to do when she kept refusing him? He liked her a lot—but there was no way he’d beg. It was time he focused on getting on with his life while saving others. Period.
He filled the three glasses with lager and joined Will and Sam at the table. Each of his friends took a drink and Trent held his aloft. “Here’s to another successful day’s work, boys. Long may it continue.”
They raised their glasses in a toast before each taking a hefty slug of beer. Trent sighed. As long as he had an ice-cold beer and his colleagues fit, well and alive, he’d get through. He had to, because there was no way he would ever break his promise to God, or his sister, that he would fight fire for the rest of his life...however long that might be.
Will racked the balls and selected a cue from the selection hung on the wall. As he chalked the end, his gaze locked on Trent. The scrutinizing look his friend gave him alerted Trent to more unwanted advice.
He took another mouthful of his drink and licked the froth from his lip. “Something to say to me, Will?”
Will put the chalk on the table as Sam leaned down in between them and took the first shot. “I have, as a matter of fact.”
The assessing, “know it all” look in Will’s eyes caused Trent’s irritation to unfurl and obliterate the remnants of his previous good mood. “Well, spit it out. It seems I’m the topic of conversation in here tonight.”
“We didn’t like the way you tackled the blaze earlier. You weren’t focused on the rest of us.”
“What are you talking about?” Trent snapped his glare between Will and Sam as he rose from the table. He crossed his arms over his pool cue, his defenses high. “Have you guys been talking about me or something?”
Sam nodded. “You need to get your shit together.”
“I need...” Trent laughed. “I have got my shit together. Didn’t I get two kids out of a second-floor window this afternoon? Did I dream that?”
“You went into that house ahead of the chief’s call. You went in there without looking back to see where the rest of us were. You were on a mission, Trent. Trouble is, I’m starting to wonder if your mission has more to do with you than it does the job.”
Trent tightened his fingers around his cue. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly serious.”
Will stepped between Trent and Sam and placed his hands on each of their shoulders. “Look, just take it down a notch.” He looked at Trent. “What we’re trying to say is, you’re not yourself and over the past few months, you seem to be getting worse. What’s going on?”
Grief and adrenaline blended into a potent mix inside him. If his best friends didn’t understand what losing Robbie...and Izzy...had done to him, then who would?
Trent shrugged Will’s hand from his shoulder and laid down his cue. Lifting his glass, he drained his beer and put the glass on the table. He looked at his friends. “You really don’t get it, do you? I’ve lost people. Not just people who mean something to me, but people who mean something to others too. It’s starting to feel like a regular occurrence. I have to do more. Step up my game. Stop thinking so much and get in there and save them. What if I could’ve gotten to Robbie quicker if I hadn’t waited for the all-clear?”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Will’s cheeks darkened as his angry gaze bore into Trent’s. “Robbie was dead on arrival. That falling beam killed him. It wasn’t even the damn fire.”
“Yeah? Well, you try explaining that to his sister. You see how well Izzy takes that summary of the situation, because I sure as hell can hardly bear to look in her eyes and see her pain.”
Will swiped his hand over his face and slumped his shoulders. “Then let her go, man, and maybe you’ll accept we can’t save every single person from a fire. If you don’t accept that, this job is going to screw you up. Sam and me aren’t going to stand by and let that happen. Do you hear me?”
Trent looked from Will to Sam, his heart pumping and his mind racing. Were they right? Was his need to be there for Izzy, to care and protect her, messing with his ability to do his job properly?
The music grew louder and the walls came in closer as the smell and smile of one out-of-reach woman slammed into him. “What I feel for Izzy is no one’s business. Not even yours. If I let you down, if you get hurt on my watch, if I fail in any way when I could have won, then come back at me again. In the meantime, if I have your back, if I’m saving lives, do me a favor and keep your opinions to yourself.”
Trent shouldered through the dense crowd as he made his way to the bar’s double doors and into the fresh evening air. He breathed deep and blinked against the stinging in his eyes as he looked to the star-spangled sky.
If Izzy was so wrong for him, then why did he want to run to her right now rather than get his ass back home where it belonged?
* * *
IZZY STEPPED FROM the cab and paid the fare through the window. She turned and stared at the front office window of Sanford & Co. Having spent the last couple of days researching Richard Crawley, she’d learned there was good money to be made in early-evening entertainment. The guy owned a Ferrari as well as a fifty-foot yacht. She doubted either had a softening effect on Crawley’s inflated ego.
Clearing her throat, she tugged on the hem of her fitted white shirt and smoothed it over the hips of her black skinny jeans before pushing open the door of the agency. The pride she’d felt at finally dragging herself out of Templeton for a few hours faltered as insecurity threatened its return.
Kate might have been right that it was time for Izzy to get out of town for a while, but was Kate right when she’d said Izzy could cope with the visit to a big-city agency? Now she was here, nerves leaped like jumping beans in her stomach.
She breathed deep against her rising panic.
She could do this. She could get Richard Crawley to front the calendar. She would do it for Maya.
Lifting her chin, her ballet flats brushing over the beige carpet tiles, she approached the young woman sitting behind the reception desk.
“Hi. Welcome to Sanford and Co. Can I help you?”
Izzy cleared her throat. “Um, yes. I have an appointment with Mr. Sanford and Richard Crawley. I’m Izzy Cooper.”
“Of course. Nice to meet you. They’re in Mr. Sanford’s office waiting for you. Would you like tea? Coffee? Juice?”
“A coffee would be great, thank you.”
“Latte? Cappuccino? Black? Cream? Mocha?”
Izzy stared. “A latte would be great. Thanks.”
“Fabulous.” The receptionist came around the desk and held out her hand toward a closed door at the back of the office. “They’re just through here. If you’d like to follow me.”
Clutching her portfolio a little tighter, Izzy felt her hand turn clammy. It was just another assignment. No big deal. She was a damn good photographer and she’d met celebrities before. No doubt Richard Crawley would be just the same as any other. All she needed to do was make him feel as though he was the most important aspect of her plans and everything would go swimmingly.
The receptionist knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Mr. Sanford, I have Izzy Cooper here for you.”
“Ah, send her in. Send her in.”
She turned and smiled at Izzy, easing the door wider. “Ms. Cooper.”
“Thank you.” Izzy stepped into the room.
Richard Crawley, and the man she assumed was Mr. Sanford, rose from their chairs in a plush seating area at the far end of the office. They came toward her and Izzy forced her feet forward as Mr. Sanford held out his hand. “Francis Sanford. Nice to meet you.”
Izzy took his hand and smiled. “You too.”
He shook her hand and touched the base of her spine lightly with the other, turning her toward Richard Crawley. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Richard Crawley.”
She met the eyes of the TV host and ex-Templeton resident. With his dark hair and even darker eyes, square jaw and strong build, it would be hard to deny his good looks.
Izzy blushed under his friendly gaze and held out her hand, relieved it was steady. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Crawley.”
“You too. I like your work. And please, call me Richard.” His dark eyes sparkled as they bored into hers, his equally dark tan accentuated under the glare of sunlight through the large window beside them. “You’re a phenomenal photographer. I’m delighted with this chance to work with you.”
Izzy dipped her head, a little of her self-consciousness deteriorating in the face of his kindly stare and infectious smile. “Thank you.”
He nodded and gestured toward a black leather sofa. “Would you like to sit down?”
Izzy eased her hand from his and walked around the low coffee table to sit in an armchair. The men asked for more coffee from the receptionist and returned to the sofa beside her.
Richard Crawley lounged back, crossing his legs so his ankle rested casually on the opposite knee. “So, from what I’ve heard, it’s been a while since you’ve taken any work past the mundane bread-and-butter stuff.”
Mundane bread and butter stuff? I love my work. All of it. Her smile faltered. “Excuse me?”
He looked apologetic. “I mean, it seemed to me you were quite in demand around the Southwest until a few months ago—”
“I still am.”
“Yet you haven’t accepted any work that’s taken you from Templeton in months.”
Izzy swallowed, hating the unwelcome observation. She’d barely left the studio since Robbie died, let alone ventured out of the Cove. “Can I ask how you know that?”
He smiled. “I did a little research...as I’m sure you have too.”
Busted. She coughed. “Well, I hope my being here shows that I am ready to step out again. I’ve had other things going on.” She held his gaze, annoyance straightening her spine. “Personal things.”
He stared for a moment longer before raising his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I just assumed someone with your talent would want to stretch her wings a little, that’s all.”
Izzy curled her hands around her portfolio in her lap. “The Cove’s a great town, Mr. Crawley. I love it there.”
Mr. Sanford shifted in his seat. “Shall we talk about the project?”
With an infinite amount of effort, Izzy dragged her gaze from Richard Crawley’s, her spine so rigid, she concentrated on not making any sudden movements for fear of it snapping clean in half. She smiled at Mr. Sanford, ignoring Crawley’s stare as it bored into her temple. “I’ve brought a few examples of my work along with some ideas for what I have in mind for the firefighters’ calendar. These are purely suggestions, so anything either of you don’t like, I’m more than happy to discuss and rethink with you. The guys at the fire station are happy for me to proceed as I see fit, so really it’s a case of whatever you and—” she faced Crawley “—and you, are happy to do.”
He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his gaze on her photo examples. “I’m convinced whatever you have in mind will be great. I’m at your command.” He met her gaze. “Honestly. I’ve admired pretty much everything you’ve done from your shots of the Cove, land and seascapes, to celebrities, everything.”
Izzy’s shaky confidence itched for renewal under his seemingly genuine admiration. “I’m flattered. Thank you.”
“I mean it. I’m really looking forward to working with you. Maybe we could discuss the possibility of shooting the entire calendar in the Cove. What do you think?”
Surprised and pleased, Izzy steadfastly pushed away the notion that shooting in Templeton was borne from cowardice. “That would be great.”
The office door opened and the receptionist came in with their coffees. She laid the tray on the table in front of them. “Would there be anything else, Mr. Sanford?”
“No, that’s great. Thank you, Tiffany.”
She nodded and walked from the room, softly closing the door.
Izzy picked up her latte and took a sip. When she raised her eyes, she saw Crawley carefully watching her. She frowned. “Mr. Crawley?”
“Richard, please.” His gaze turned somber. “I was sorry to learn you recently lost your brother.”
The switch from her professional to personal life slammed Izzy’s defenses back into place. She cleared her throat. “Thank you. I miss Robbie every day, but I didn’t come here to talk about my brother.”
A faint blush stained Crawley’s cheeks and he briefly closed his eyes before opening them again. “I apologize.”
Swallowing hard, Izzy turned to Mr. Sanford. “I assume you’re happy if we decide to shoot the calendar entirely on location at Templeton?”
Mr. Sanford nodded, his gaze darting between Izzy and Crawley. “Of course. I’ll leave the order of things to you and Richard. In fact, why don’t we set up a meeting in the Cove as soon as possible? I understand Kate Harrington would ideally like the calendar to be shot by the middle of September so we have the finished product ready for sale at Christmas?”
Izzy nodded. “That’s right.”
Sanford looked to Crawley. “Your schedule is pretty free for the rest of the month. Would you be okay to spend a few days in Templeton next week? How about you, Miss Cooper? Would next week be okay with you?”
Izzy fought back her sudden panic. She could fit anything in at any time. She worked twelve-hour days whenever she needed to. More than that, this shoot was all for a little girl lying in a hospital bed, her parents praying for a miracle to save their daughter. If she, Richard Crawley and Templeton’s firefighters could play a part in making that miracle come true, next week would be perfect.
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
Sanford faced Richard Crawley. “Richard?”
His gaze met Izzy’s rather than his agent’s and she struggled not to fidget under the celebrity’s blatant study. He looked almost remorseful as he ran his gaze over her hair, lower to her eyes. He smiled warmly. “Next week would be great. It’s been too long since I’ve been to Templeton. Is there anywhere in particular you suggest I stay, Miss Cooper?”
Izzy softened. The guy looked genuinely sorry for mentioning Robbie and wanted them to start over. She smiled back. “Considering your celebrity status, I would recommend you stay at the Christie Hotel. It’s one of the best in Templeton and you can trust in their service and discretion.”
His shoulders relaxed beneath his smart black jacket and crisp white shirt. “The Christie it is, then.”
Mr. Sanford stood and Izzy turned to face him.
He held out his hand. “Well, that’s settled. I’ll be in touch as soon as we have Richard booked into the hotel so you’ll know when to expect him.”
“Great.” She shook his hand and then held her hand out to Richard Crawley. “I look forward to working with you.”
His gaze burned with a whisper of flirtation as his fingers curled around hers. “And I you.”
Cursing the sudden warmth at her cheeks, Izzy slid her hand from Crawley’s as Mr. Sanford held his hand out toward the door. Izzy gratefully walked toward it. As the agent reached for the door to open it, he stopped. “When I read about the explosion that killed your brother and was then approached by Ms. Harrington for Richard’s help, I was onboard immediately. I’m confident the extra emotion you’ll bring to the shoot will be invaluable.”
Izzy stilled. “The emotion?”
He flitted his gaze from her to Crawley, and back again. “What I mean to say is, we, Mr. Crawley and I, believe having a local photographer, shooting a local celebrity, will really reunite the community after such a devastating tragedy. It will bring people together, knowing even celebrities as big as—”
“It doesn’t take something like my brother’s death to bring Templeton together, Mr. Sanford. Everything brings us together. You and Mr. Crawley need to be absolutely clear on that. Otherwise the people of Templeton will think celebrities have zero morality when it comes to promotion and making money. It will be up to you and Mr. Crawley to prove differently.”
“I think you misunderstand—”
Richard Crawley raised his hand silencing his agent. “Miss Cooper, Francis doesn’t speak for me. I’ve admired you...your work...for a long time and very much look forward to working with you to help raise money for Maya Jackson. That desire has nothing to do with your loss. We apologize.”
Torn between Richard’s clear sincerity and his agent’s ignorance, Izzy drew in a strengthening breath before nodding. “Then I’ll wait for your call.”
She strode from the room, nodded at the receptionist and continued to walk to the glass front door. Holding her breath, she rounded the corner toward the taxi stand. She opened the passenger door of the cab in front and gratefully slid into the seat. “Templeton Cove, please. The photography studio on Nelson Street.”
He nodded and turned the ignition.
Izzy shifted back in her seat and sighed. The sooner she got home to the safety of the Cove, the better. City life crawled with leeches...some clearly more blood-sucking than others.
