Читать книгу Saved By The Firefighter - Rachel Brimble - Страница 13
ОглавлениеTRENT STROLLED OUT of the fire station, his body aching from cleaning and polishing the trucks all day. Thankfully, the shift had been entirely uneventful. No fires. No accidents. No cats stuck in trees. The Cove’s firefighters had enjoyed a day of peace, and now all he had planned for the night was to sit in front of the TV with a take-out dinner and a couple of beers.
He walked along the promenade lining Cowden Beach and smiled to see two teams of teenage lads playing a game of soccer on the sand, the goalposts made up of their discarded jackets. Trent wandered over to the iron railing and leaned his forearms on top to watch the boys play, remembering his own time doing the exact same thing in a park not too far from Templeton Cove.
As soon as he could afford it, he’d moved out of parents’ home, leaving them behind...along with the tortured memories of Aimee. Little did he know that no matter how far he ran, his sister’s ghost would follow. As often as he tried to visit his mum and dad, Aimee permeated every room of their family home and his anguish sometimes felt as raw as if the fire had happened yesterday.
The shout of a scored goal jolted Trent from his unwanted memories. He straightened from the railing to head to the fish and chip shop when he spotted Izzy standing on the tumble of rocks at the far side of the beach. Hunkered down, she held her camera to her face with the lens turned to the sea. He followed her line of sight to where she photographed.
The day had been unseasonably gray and the ocean showed its disproval. Waves churned, the sea dark and moody. Now that he’d seen her, the ocean echoed the torment inside him. Should he try to talk to her? Or leave her to work?
She lowered the camera and let it hang on the strap around her neck as she stared into the distance. Even from this far away, the high set of her shoulders and her immobilized stance showed her misery. The need to comfort her lurched in Trent’s chest.
As if she sensed him watching her, she slowly faced him.
He pulled back his shoulders and met her gaze.
She stood still awhile longer before she lifted the camera to her face and aimed the lens directly at him. He fought the need to smile or pull a face to make her laugh, as he would have before Robbie died. Helplessness writhed inside him. What did she want from him in that moment? He had no idea. Not anymore.
Once upon a time, he’d thought Robbie, being Izzy’s brother, had been the obstacle keeping him and Izzy apart, but it hadn’t taken long for Robbie to give Trent the go-ahead to ask out his sister. Little did Trent know how much of a flirt Izzy thought him, rebuking his advances at every turn. Yet now it wasn’t other women keeping Izzy from him, but his firefighting.
How was he supposed to make her understand how Aimee’s death brought forth a need so ingrained and painful inside him that he didn’t know what else to do with his life but fight what killed his sister? Could he ever give up that fight? He very much doubted it.
She carefully climbed down the rocks, one hand steadying her as she made her slow descent. Trent waited, needing to know she was safe on the sand before he could leave.
He wanted to protect his family and loved ones—to never fail someone again as he’d failed his baby sister. In Izzy, he saw his future. Why her, he wasn’t sure he could ever explain, but she mattered. Deeply.
Yet with every day that passed, she slipped further away from him and he wished it didn’t hurt so much.
He briefly closed his eyes before opening them again, ready to walk on. Walk away. He glanced in her direction one last time as she leaped from the final rock, her hand protectively clasped around the camera at her breasts. Looking up, she held up a finger toward him as though asking him to wait for her. Surprise turned to pathetic relief as she jogged across the sand, her long blond hair swinging back and forth in its ponytail. As she got closer, the more Trent tensed.
It had been over a week since he saw her. The beach party was a bigger disaster than he could ever have anticipated.
She came up the steps toward him, tucking some fallen hair behind her ear. He noted the way she tried to give him a smile, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Hi.”
He pushed his hands into the pockets of his work trousers. “Hi.”
Slightly out of breath, she exhaled through pursed lips. “I think I owe you an apology.”
She might as well have said she loved him. The pleasure that jolted through him probably wouldn’t have been any less powerful. He dragged his gaze from hers to look blindly toward a spot over her shoulder. “For what?”
“For the way I spoke to you at the beach last week.” She sighed. “Won’t you at least look at me? You know apologizing doesn’t exactly come as second nature to me.”
He turned. The trepidation and pleading in her gaze teemed with the blush at her cheeks, tugging at his chest. “I get it, Iz. It’s fine.”
“What do you get?”
“You need to blame me for Robbie’s death. You’ll only ever look at me and see a firefighter now. The man who couldn’t save your brother. You’ll never see just me. A guy who really likes you.”
The shouts from the teenagers on the beach, the passing traffic and the odd screech of a seagull punctured the silence. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Guilt pressed down on him. The last thing he wanted was to add to her pain. He touched a finger to her chin. “Hey.” He winked. “I can’t be irresistible to every woman in the Cove, can I?” Her smile was slow in coming, but when it did, the sight of it pushed the air from Trent’s lungs. “Apology accepted, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He glanced toward the row of shops on the opposite side of the road. “I was going to grab some fish and chips. Do you want to join me?”
Hesitation flashed in her eyes before she nodded. “Okay. Could we take them back to my studio? I want to show you something.”
“Sure.”
They walked side by side and Trent fought the need to take her hand, instead fisting his fingers in his pockets.
Twenty minutes later, Trent walked into Izzy’s studio behind her, their wrapped fish and chips in his hands along with two cans of soda. “Do you have plates or shall we eat these straight from the paper?”
“From the paper, of course.” She raised an eyebrow as she shut the door. “You disappoint me. I’ll go as far as providing knives and forks, but that’s it.”
He laughed and stared at her denim-clad ass as she threw the lock in place and checked the sign was turned to Closed. Anticipation churned with the rumbling in his stomach. Her wanting to be alone—and undisturbed—with him could only be a good thing.
He inwardly berated himself as he carried their food over to her workstation. She pushed aside some papers and then walked over to the corner of the room, where she plucked a plaid blanket from the floor. “I used this for a shoot earlier, so it needs washing anyway. It can be our makeshift tablecloth.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She lifted the blanket and covered half of the enormous worktop before pulling two stools to either side. He slid onto one as she walked to the kitchen at the back of the studio. As sounds of a drawer opening, cutlery clattering and then the drawer slamming shut filtered through the open door, Trent tried to figure out the best way to play out the next minutes, or maybe hours, he’d spend with her.
His friends’ warnings about his distraction on the job poked at his conscience, along with the way everyone but Izzy believed they were meant for one another. He couldn’t keep pushing her. For his own self-preservation, he had to back off and be the friend she needed.
The soft scent of her perfume floated across the room as she emerged from the kitchen. Awareness lifted the hairs on his arms as Trent concentrated on unwrapping their meal. The aroma of fresh, battered fish and fried chips filled the studio and they both gave an appreciative, unified sigh.
They laughed and Trent’s gut wrenched at the fleeting sight of undisguised joy in her eyes. She plucked up a chip. “So, how was your day?” She popped the chip into her mouth. “Anything interesting happen?”
“Nope. It was one of the quiet days firefighters are grateful for.”
“Really?” Her bright blue eyes scrutinized him as though she suspected him of lying. “Do you really mean that? You’re grateful for the quiet days?”
His appetite wavered as the feeling he was being tested pressed down on him. “Of course. We don’t relish the idea of running into a burning building or rescuing people trapped inside a mangled car. It comes with the job...and I hope you understand now why I took the job.”
The skin at her neck moved as she swallowed. “Your sister.”
“Yes. Aimee.” Trent cut into his fish and lifted a chunk into his mouth, trying to act normal despite the sudden and oppressive silence.
She coughed. “It’s kind of sad the biggest thing we have in common is that we’ve both lost a sibling.” Her gaze shadowed. “Aren’t you angry? Don’t you want to lash out at anyone and everyone all the time?”
He picked up his soda can and drank, carefully watching her over the top as he considered his next words. He lowered the can. “The anger is normal and I promise it will pass.”
“I find that hard to believe. I’m always angry. Really, really angry.”
“I know you are.”
Her eyes glazed with unshed tears. “I don’t want to be this way, but I have no idea what to do if I’m not angry. Does that make me crazy?”
“No, it makes you human. Anger is a normal stage of grief, Iz. Don’t give yourself a hard time about it, but at the same time, don’t choose to stay in the anger either. You have to fight it or the grief will win.”
“And you fought back by signing up to be a firefighter?”
“In a way, yes. I wanted to do something to vent my frustration. What better way than fighting the thing that killed Aimee?”
She stared at him, her eyes sad, before she nodded and looked back to her food.
When it seemed she wasn’t going to say anything else, Trent shifted his gaze to the studio walls. The difference in the images on display was as devastating as Izzy’s grief. Cowden Beach, the sea dark, waves crashing, its sands empty of people. He continued to scan the walls, disappointment and helplessness twisting inside. Where were her previous images? The ones full of light, color, romance and fun.
It was clear to see that the images Izzy saw through the lens lately were heartbreakingly different than when Robbie had been alive.
“You need to change your focus.” He ate another bit of fish and purposely continued to stare around the room. “You’ve decided to show Templeton in a completely different light than you ever have before.” He looked at her bowed head as she pushed her food around on the paper. She’d barely eaten any chips, her battered fish untouched. “Is this how you feel?”
She lifted her head, her cold gaze showing she was once again trying to shut him out. “I look through my lens and photograph what I see. I can’t help what’s there.”
“That’s not true and you know it.” He put down his fork. “Your work has never been about what’s in front of you. You can make anything look beautiful. No, mesmerizing, heart-wrenching, yet hopeful. Do you know why? Because that’s who you are. Inside.”
Color tinged her cheeks. “Who I was. Not who am I anymore.”
“It’s a choice, Iz. You can be happy again if that’s what you want to be. Believe me, you might have to force it sometimes, but happiness is out there. You just have to be willing to open up to it.”
“And I guess you’re going to say my happiness could be you? It’s you who will make me happy?”
He swallowed. Apparently, she thought he was that arrogant. “No, not necessarily.”
“I want to be happy, but it’s going to take time.” Her voice softened. “I know you understand...now I know about Aimee.”
“But?”
“But what?” She focused on her food and put another chip into her mouth.
“There’s a but in there somewhere. You aren’t just avoiding me. You’re avoiding life or having fun, and that has nothing to do with me being a firefighter. You need to force yourself to get out there. Eventually, it won’t feel as hard as it does right now.”
“I’m trying.” She gave a wry smile. “I even ventured out of the Cove last week and met with the celebrity Kate wants to front the calendar. He arrives tomorrow.” She ate another chip, took a drink of her soda. “I just hope he doesn’t arrive with an entourage, expecting me to wait on him and them hand and foot.”
The change in subject was obvious, but he wouldn’t push her. “Who is he?”
“Richard Crawley.”
Trent stopped, a chip midway to his mouth. “The game show host? Wow, Kate’s outdone herself once again. I always got the impression the guy was too far up his own ass to give a crap about anyone else. Kid or no kid.”
She smiled softly. “Well, whether or not that’s true, only time will tell. All I know is he seems okay as far as celebrities go. Whether he’ll go for Kate’s idea of stripping off for the calendar remains to be seen.”
“If she convinced me and the rest of the crew to do it, I’m sure she’ll convince a celebrity who lives for the limelight.”
“I suppose so.”
The dejection had returned once more to her tone, and Trent gazed around the studio walls a second time. “You know, I heard a rumor there’s a gallery opening in Templeton in the new year. It would be pretty fantastic if you could get your pictures exhibited there.”
“A gallery? Here in the Cove?”
He met her gaze. “Marian told me.”
“Well, if Marian told you...”
“Exactly. Nothing passes her without being sanctioned and verified. You should go into the bakery and speak to her. She’ll tell you all about it.”
“I don’t know if I’m interested, to be honest.”
Concern flooded through Trent, heavier and darker than before. “News of a gallery opening in Templeton would’ve had you flying off that seat and making plans before Robbie died.” He reached for her hand where it lay on the worktop and squeezed her fingers. “This could be the next step for you. Who knows what opportunities having your work shown in a gallery could do for your career? Jay Garrett’s financing the whole thing as far as I know. Bringing in someone who knows what they’re doing to run the place.”
Skepticism darkened her gaze. “And what does Jay Garrett know about art?”
“He’s Templeton’s richest resident. What does it matter what he knows? As long as he believes in it...in you...that’s all that matters. Having said that...” He took a deep breath and braced himself for the onslaught that was sure to follow. “I don’t think these pictures are going to sell to the tourists, rich or poor, who come to Templeton, do you?”
“Jeez, who died and made you art critic of the year?” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t believe I just said that. I didn’t mean to talk about dying when—”
“Hey. It’s all right.” Trent stood, came around the workstation and took her hands. “Why don’t you speak to Jay? Having something new to focus on will help. Believe me.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” He ran his gaze over her face. “Let me help you through this, Iz. I’m here for you. Even if it’s only as a friend if that’s what you want.”
She slipped her hands from his and put them in her lap. “Friendship is all I can handle. Anything else is too much right now.”
“Fine, I’ll back off, but promise me you’ll think about the gallery. Your work is too good not to be seen and noticed. Too good to stay in this studio and the homes of the locals. You’ve got talent, Iz. Use it to get you out of this dark place you’re in before it’s too late.”
“I will. I promise.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets, relieved he’d broken partway through her defenses. “So, what was it you wanted to show me?”
She closed her eyes and huffed a laugh before opening them again. “I wanted your opinion on my latest collection.”
“Your latest collect...” He grimaced. “And that will be the pictures I just basically told you I hated, right?”
She smiled. “Right.”
* * *
IZZY TOOK A DEEP BREATH as she approached the opulent Christie Hotel and walked through the revolving door into its spectacular lobby. This place was the very best in town and she could only dream of affording to stay a single night—Richard Crawley had booked his stay for the whole week.
She smoothed her hands over her hips and hoped the long navy skirt, teamed with a sheer white blouse and camisole beneath, was suitable enough for dinner in such a fancy place. Time and again, her fingers had hovered over her phone while she considered canceling, but after receiving a sharp talking-to from Kate, there was no way Izzy would risk Richard Crawley walking away from helping raising funds for little Maya Jackson.
So here Izzy was. Late by fifteen minutes, but here all the same.
For the second time in a week, she’d stepped out of her comfort zone and into an arena that felt as dangerous as a gladiator fight at a Roman amphitheater.
Her high heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked toward the restaurant doors. The place was the epitome of 1930s glamour with gilded mirrors and huge, resplendent flower displays in every corner and atop every plinth. The chandeliers shone, sending rays of light to prism on every reflective and spotless surface.
A uniformed member of the staff opened the restaurant doors as she approached, directing her to a sign that asked guests to wait to be seated. Glancing around the bustling room, Izzy fought the need to turn around and flee before Richard Crawley, or anyone else, saw her. Bursts of conversation and laughter bounced from the walls while a pianist played on a white baby grand in the far corner. What was she doing here?
Her mouth dried and her hands turned clammy.
“Good evening, miss. Have you a table booked with us this evening?”
Izzy jumped and turned to the young, black-suited mâitre d’. “Um, yes, I’m here to meet with Richard Crawley. I’m a little late, I’m afraid.”
“Ah yes. Mr. Crawley is at your table. If you’d like to follow me?”
Izzy forced her shoulders back, fighting her nerves and insecurity. She’d had hundreds of meetings with moneyed businessmen and visiting tourists happy to spend their holiday savings on her paintings. This meeting with Richard Crawley would be no different. He was here to talk about Maya and the calendar. Not Izzy’s life. Not Robbie.
Business she could do.
Richard rose to his feet as she approached, his smile wide and his dark brown eyes shining as warmly as they had the first time they met. “Miss Cooper.” He held out his hand. “It’s great to see you again.”
Izzy smiled and relaxed her shoulders. It was easy to see his appeal and why he was so successful at his job. His face was open, kind and, she was reluctant to admit, trustworthy. She took his hand. “Thank you. You too.”
He gestured to the chair on the other side of the small table. “Have a seat. What would you like to drink?”
She turned to the mâitre d’. “A glass of Sauvignon Blanc would be lovely, thank you.”
He nodded. “Of course. Suzie will be your waitress for this evening. I’ll ask her to bring your wine and the menus. Enjoy your evening.”
He walked away and Izzy lifted her gaze to Richard.
He shifted back into his seat. “So, how are you?”
“Good. You?”
“Very well.” He smiled and glanced around the restaurant. “Feels kind of surreal to be back in the town I grew up, but kind of nice too.”
Izzy relaxed further and placed her clutch purse at her feet. “How long ago did you live here?”
“A good ten years ago now. My parents moved to the city for my father’s job. It’s strange how I’ve never been back since.”
“Were you happy here?”
“For a while, but I was barely into my teens before I was itching to get out and spread my wings. Small towns suit some people, but definitely not me.”
As silly as it was, his dismissal of small towns and Templeton rankled, but Izzy forced a smile. “Well, for me, the Cove is most definitely where I belong.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Never say never. Things change...people change.”
Uncomfortable with the knowing tone in his voice despite being aware of the huge changes to her personality lately, Izzy cleared her throat and laced her hands on the table. “Shall we talk about the calendar?”
His gaze lingered on hers before he leaned forward, mirroring her posture. “Sure. How’s it going?”
“Really well. I spoke with Kate earlier and she’s drawn up a schedule of when each of the volunteer firefighters will be available. It’s now just a case of me deciding what to feature for each month. For the cover, we thought it would be a great shot to have you and the firefighters together.”
“Sounds good...” He grimaced. “As long as they’re not all built and buff and I end up looking like a stick between them.”
Izzy laughed. Richard Crawley was at least six feet tall, and the width of his chest gave the impression that the gym wasn’t exactly nonexistent in his schedule. “I’m pretty confident you’ll give them a run for their money.”
He lifted an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with flirtation. “Glad to hear you say so.”
Her cheeks heated and she turned from his gaze as a waitress approached carrying Izzy’s wine on a tray in one hand and two leather-bound menus in the other. She placed the menus in front them and the drink in front of Izzy. The young girl smiled. “Your wine, Miss Cooper.” She looked at Izzy and Richard in turn. “I’ll be back to take your order shortly.”
Reaching for her glass, Izzy took a fortifying sip and fought the nerves that jumped into her stomach. Richard was handsome, charming and effortlessly charismatic. The combination made her nervous when she would so rather be at home wrapped in a blanket and watching an old movie, or else working at the studio.
He opened his menu. “Shall we go for starters as well as mains?”
Richard scanned the menu, his brow slightly furrowed and his concentration somber. She needed to stop thinking about her need to be home alone and get fully on board with the project or risk letting Kate down, not to mention Maya.
Mustering her confidence, Izzy looked at the menu. “Well, as I’m at the Christie and haven’t had the chance to step inside the place before, I think we should take full advantage.”
He laughed. “I agree. The bill’s on me, so I want you to have whatever you’d like.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean for you to pay—”
“I want to. Please. I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy and like to treat a lady to dinner...if that’s okay with you?”
How could she refuse when his tone was so friendly and gentle? This wasn’t a date. It was a business meeting and the man was being polite and attentive. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, what will it be?”
The evening passed with a steady stream of conversation about everything from the calendar, to their childhoods, to Richard’s time in Templeton as a young boy to his current work as a TV presenter.
Their starters were delicious, but it was only as they came toward the end of their mains that Izzy realized just how much she had relaxed. Her plate clean, she set down her knife and fork and sighed. “That was amazing. Thank you for inviting me here tonight. I’ve really enjoyed it.”
“Good.” He smiled. “I couldn’t help worrying I’d never see you again after my and Francis’s insensitive words about your brother. I can only apologize and promise it won’t happen again.”
Izzy held his apologetic gaze as insecurity threatened once more. For an hour or so, she’d been in someone’s company who’d made her forget about Robbie. Richard had made her smile, even if laughter had been a step too challenging. Now the guilt over how she’d enjoyed herself and might be able to move on one day came back heavy and unwanted, making her want to flee from the restaurant.
She picked up her glass and drained the remainder of her wine. “Of course you’d see me again. The only reason we’re here is Maya. Nothing is about you or me...and certainly not my brother.”
“I couldn’t agree more. What happens outside of the calendar is no one else’s business.”
Izzy frowned. “Outside of the calendar?”
“Yes.” He put down his knife and fork and touched his napkin to his mouth, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “I was hoping you might show me around town while I’m here. I’m sure Templeton must’ve changed since I was a teenager. I’d rather have your company than see things alone. What do you think?”
Indecision battled. Her mind turned to Trent and his unwavering insistence to be there for her...to be with her. Yet she’d made no promises to him. Had protected herself from his yearnings for both their sakes. When Trent had kissed her at the beach, her entire world tipped on its axis—his sexual need matched her dormant desires with dangerous ferocity. She couldn’t be with Trent and guarantee the safety of her heart, but to spend some time with Richard, an easy, amicable, friendly man who would be in the Cove for barely a week? That could mean a few hours of release and enjoyment without any complication or risk of further pain.
