The Firefighter's Thanksgiving Wish Read online

  She didn’t remember landing before the world went dark.

  * * *

  “FRANKIE!” ROMAN YELLED into his intercom. “Frankie, answer me! Kendall? Sebastian? You see or hear anything?”

  No one heard any response from Frankie.

  Roman’s heart tried to beat itself free of his chest. “I can’t go in.” Frankie knew it and so did he now. He was a liability anywhere near that fire.

  “I’ll go.” Ozzy appeared, helmet and mask covered in soot and ash. “I know the building. I can get in through the cellar.”

  “Ozzy!” Luke grabbed his arm, held him back. “No. Let—”

  “Let who? Sebastian? Fletcher?” Ozzy demanded. “They’ve got families, kids. I won’t stand back again. Not like when Charlie was in trouble. I can do this, Luke.” Ozzy locked his hand around his boss’s. “Trust me. Let me do this.”

  “Frankie trained him,” Roman said, putting all his hopes for the future on the junior deputy while he managed the fire from here. “He can do it.”

  Luke released his hold and gave a sharp nod. “Go get them.”

  * * *

  FRANKIE AWOKE CHOKING, dragging in air that had her nearly hyperventilating. Her head ached, and judging by the chunk of ceiling that had clipped her helmet, she wasn’t surprised. The partial collapse of the building had put out some of the flames. Enough so she could see better than before. She dragged herself up, pulled her feet in under her and crouched, reaching out for Gil, who had gone frighteningly still. She hauled him to her, hefted him and ducked, getting him over her shoulder before she stumbled forward.

  “Frankie!”

  She was afraid she was hearing things, but there, coming toward her, stomping through the debris and ash, she saw the yellow jacket and helmet. It wasn’t until he drew closer that she saw who it was. “Ozzy?”

  “I’ve got a way out. Want me to take him?”

  “He’s solid. For now.” Every muscle in her body ached. Ozzy grabbed her shoulder, pushing her in front of him and guiding her through the smoke-filled rooms and down into the cellar. When they cleared the building, Frankie dropped to her knees, unloading Gil onto the damp, cold grass. She’d never been so glad to touch solid ground.

  She retched, coughed, and clawed at her mask and helmet until she got them off, sucking in fresh air by the mouthfuls.

  “I’ve got them,” Ozzy was saying. “Bring the ambulance. Frankie’s conscious, but Gil’s not.”

  “We’re on our way!”

  “Is that Roman?” She gasped, gesturing for Ozzy to give her his mask. “My intercom’s gone.”

  “Yeah, figured. Here. Just remember—”

  “Roman?” She didn’t recognize her own voice. “You hear me?”

  There was an extra beat before anyone spoke. “I hear you, Frankie.” The relief in his voice wrapped around her heart and squeezed.

  “I love you. You hear that? I love you, Splatman.”

  Another moment of silence. “I think everyone on this frequency heard you. But that means I have witnesses.”

  His voice was getting louder. Frankie shoved off her tanks, dropped to the grass and on her back, drew her knees to her chest as she blinked up at the Christmas Eve sky. “I am so over regulations. I love you.” She laughed, and soon, she couldn’t stop. Not even when Roman bent down beside her and held her in his arms. “Where are we going? Where’s this new job of yours?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t matter.” He kissed her, tender and quick. “We aren’t leaving.”

  “But...” No. No, no, no. She couldn’t let him give up. Couldn’t let him walk away. “I’ll go with you. You don’t even have to ask.”

  “I don’t want to ask. My dad told me I’d know when I found my place. That my heart would know. I know now. My place is here, Frankie. In Butterfly Harbor. As your boss.” His grin was instant and had her laughing again as the last of the flames turned to smoke. “If you can handle that.”

  Happiness swelled around the pain ricocheting through her body. “I’d like to try.”

  * * *

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE I have to spend Christmas in the hospital.” Frankie’s grumbling put a smile on Roman’s face. That she sounded a bit like a five-year-old who had been disappointed by Santa meant that all was right with the world. She coughed again, that feel-it-in-your-bones, all-the-way-to-your-feet kind of cough that came with smoke inhalation. She had her own room, and one of those gowns that didn’t close completely in the back. She looked exhausted, smoke-kissed and irritated. But she was alive. And she loved him.

  That was all that mattered.

  Roman propped his injured leg on her bed and ate the Jell-O she’d been given but rejected for breakfast. His stomach hadn’t stopped growling since last night, but he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. Not for at least forty or fifty years.

  He’d left her side only once since she’d been admitted, long enough to call Dr. Selena Collins and confirm that the black kitten was ready for his new home as soon as Frankie was back on her feet. It was a gift he was eager to give her; almost as eager as the other one he had planned.

  “Mom’s on her way with real food,” Roman told her. And, trying to keep his voice somewhat calm, he added, “Said she had some kind of announcement or proclamation for us. Who knows.”

  “About that job with the feds—”

  Roman closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Frankie, one more word about that and I’m going to make sure they keep you here through New Year’s.”

  “I just want you to be sure. I mean, you might not get another chance, and I don’t want you stuck in town—” He silenced her the only way he could think of. He stood up and kissed her.

  “I’m not stuck in this town,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m home.”

  She looked at him then, a smile forming slowly on her lips. “Right. I guess you are. Oh, hey, Gil.” She cleared her throat, which triggered another coughing bout. “Nice wheelchair.”

  Gil wheeled himself into her room. He looked as if he’d gone ten rounds with the afterlife, and the slightly dazed look on his face proved it. “I wanted to thank you.” His raspy voice was barely audible.

  “Just doing my job,” Frankie said with that gleam in her eye that told Roman she was implying a lot more. “Good thing the team was just a few minutes away from the fire. Any delay—”

  “Any delay and I wouldn’t be here. Yeah. I get it.” And it looked as if he truly did. “We won’t be closing the station. And I’ll be approving your request for additional personnel. Enough for two full-timers, at least. The rest we’ll address as we go on.”

  “I—we appreciate it,” Roman said, already certain who he wanted to hire first and permanently—Ozzy.

  “I’ve called the mayor of Durante,” Gil continued. “Asked if they could spare a few firefighters while the two of you recoup. They should already be at the station. Ozzy’ll help them settle in.”

  “Great.” Roman couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to Gil’s visit than this welcomed update.

  Gil looked between the two of them, confirming Roman’s suspicion. “I’m also planning on presenting an amendment to how the department is structured.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and having co-chiefs, of equal rank and experience, makes the most sense. You know.” He shrugged. “In case you want to stay within regulations when it comes to fraternizing.”

  “Co-chiefs?” Frankie angled a suspicious look at him. “Meaning you’re giving me the promotion after all? Because I saved your life or because I earned it?”

  Gil smiled. “Always ready with a challenge, Frankie. Listen, can’t it be both? And maybe it’s time we called a truce. A real one. Surely, after last night, we can find a way to work together.”

  Frankie nodded. “I’m good with that. Thanks.”

  “Y
ou’re welcome. Chief.”

  “Chief?” Monty’s voice blasted through the door before he stepped inside, Ezzie right on his heels. “Did I hear that right?”

  “You did,” Frankie replied proudly.

  “Has a familiar ring to it.” Monty sat next to his sister and set a giftwrapped box in her lap. “Brought what you asked me to.” He hugged her close, and Roman could see the last of the worry drop away from her brother’s face.

  “Thank you,” Frankie whispered as Gil wheeled himself out. “Ezzie. What did you bring? The entire kitchen?”

  “Well, I figured if I’m feeding you, I may as well feed the people who have to work today. I’ve got my assistants handing out plates of food. Oscar and Myra are putting his walker to good use.”

  “Your assistants?” Roman cringed. “Mom? What’s going on?”

  Ezzie sat at the end of Frankie’s bed and looked at him. “I’ve decided to make some changes in my life. I’ve got myself a new job.”

  “A job where?” Roman asked.

  “Here. In Butterfly Harbor. I’m moving into the senior center. I’m their new care adviser and events director. Paige said she could give me some training on the medical issues, including Alice’s special care needs. They have a spare room I’m going to fix up, and I’m going to buy a van. A nice big van we can use so they don’t have to call you all any more for rides. I’m going to be useful again,” she declared. “And it feels wonderful.”

  “You’re moving here?” Roman gulped. “Maybe I should rethink that Seattle job after all.” He turned a panic-stricken look at Frankie, who was laughing.

  “It’s a wonderful idea,” Frankie croaked. “It’s the perfect fit for all of you. And speaking of a perfect fit.” She held the package out to Roman.

  “For me?”

  “Don’t sound so shocked,” his mother chided. “Growing up, you always lived for Christmas. Never could get enough presents,” she added with a wink at Frankie. “He made up wish ornaments months ahead.”

  “Noted for future reference,” Frankie said, smiling. “Go on. Open it.”

  Monty slipped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. The look brother and sister exchanged had his nerves doing a bit of a jig. “Now I’m definitely curious,” he said.

  He took his time, drawing out every moment of frustration he could as he tugged the paper off the box. He lifted the lid. “Frankie.” His throat tightened with emotion. “Frankie, what are you—”

  “Try it on.” She scooted closer and handed him her father’s BHFD chief’s cap. “Try it on, Roman.”

  He put it on, watched the love rise in her gaze as she reached for him. “It’s a perfect fit. My dad would have been proud for you to wear it.”

  “But you’re chief, too, now. You should keep it.”

  She shook her head, covering his hands with hers when he tried to pull it off. “It’s exactly where it belongs.” She kissed him again.

  “Speaking of belonging.” Ezzie retrieved the box she’d brought with her. “Roman, you asked me to bring this hideous thing with me?” She handed him the humidor when he let go of Frankie.

  “Right.” Roman opened the lid and withdrew a small velvet box that he handed to his mom. “The humidor wasn’t where Dad kept his cigars, Mom. It’s where he hid your gifts.”

  “Oh!” Ezzie’s hands flew to her cheeks. “Oh, that silly, silly man.” She accepted the small box.

  “I’m guessing he hadn’t gotten around to wrapping it, but there’s a card inside.” He snagged Frankie’s hand, and when she wrapped her fingers through his, his world settled.

  “Merry Christmas. Love, your Tony.” Ezzie sniffed, then gasped when she looked at the brooch. “It’s a butterfly.” She plucked it free, and the orange and black stones glimmered against the lights of the hospital room. “It’s just beautiful.” She pinned it to her shirt.

  “Just one more thing.” Roman withdrew the sprig of mistletoe his father had kept all these years. “In all your decorating, you neglected to include one thing,” he told Frankie.

  “I didn’t think it was appropriate for the workplace,” she joked, her gaze softening as he held it over her head and leaned in for a kiss. “You gonna kiss me under the mistletoe, Splatman?” She grabbed hold of him and drew him close.

  “Every year. For the rest of our lives.”

  * * *

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  Her Triplets’ Mistletoe Dad

  by Patricia Johns

  CHAPTER ONE

  GABBY ROGERS AND SETH STRAIGHT had driven out to Benton, Colorado, for the privacy—because if they’d done this in Eagle’s Rest, their secret would be impossible to keep. Gabby pulled her honey-blond hair away from her face, then rubbed her hands over her arms. Her cream knit dress wasn’t warm enough in the chill of the courthouse. She shivered. The old building was decorated for the holidays—Christmas was only two weeks off—but there were drafts coming from windows, and Gabby found herself wishing she’d left her thick winter coat on. Except that didn’t seem quite appropriate for her wedding—even this wedding. In all her fantasies, her wedding day had never been like this—so sterile and logical. She’d been positive that when she did marry, it would be for love—what other reason made it worth it? But this was smart; they’d agreed on that much.

  Times were tough right now. She was a mother to triplet newborns, and that had changed her life in every possible way. The father wasn’t in the picture. Just about the time she discovered she was pregnant, he’d revealed that he was already married. She’d been stunned, heartbroken. She’d been thinking he might be the one, only to find out he’d been lying from the start. So though she’d delivered her babies with his financial assistance, their relationship was over. Now she was on her own, back in her hometown of Eagle’s Rest, Colorado, with a broken heart and trying to figure out where her ex’s lies had started and ended. Recovering after childbirth and now realizing she had no way to afford her baby boys’ expensive formula... This idea of marrying her best friend had made so much sense a few days ago, when she and Seth Straight were making their plans. They were getting married for mutual benefits, and love didn’t have to factor into their arrangement. Love never steered her right, anyway, and Seth was the best man she knew. This was sensible...wasn’t it?

  “Are we crazy?” Gabby asked, looking over at Seth. She fiddled with the flowers and realized belatedly that she’d been slowly shredding a rose petal.

  “Maybe.” Seth shot her a wry smile. He had worn his Sunday best—a suit and cowboy boots, with his white cowboy hat tucked under one arm. The last five years had aged him, with some silver laced through his auburn hair, and eyes that were a whole lot sadder. He’d always been the guy who was so cautious and organized that she’d assumed heartbreak would skip him. But no one was immune, it seemed, so here they were, along with their mangled hearts.

  Gabby missed her babies right now, and that lonesome feeling was squeezing out her other misgivings. This
was the first time she’d been separated from her newborns since they’d been in the NICU at the hospital. Funny how the same feeling of panic seemed to rise even when they were healthy, growing, and safely being cared for by Aunt Bea for the afternoon. Gabby’s mother was working a double shift, which was actually a good thing. This wedding was top secret and she had no idea how she’d explain it. One thing at a time.

  Gabby glanced at the clock. They had five minutes until it was their turn in the judge’s office. Then they’d be married. This would be very final, if she went through with it.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Gabby asked, stepping closer to Seth, searching his face. “Because we can still back out.”

  Was she hoping that he would change his mind? Maybe. It would be easier to step away from this solution if Seth pulled out first. And he was the rational one—the guy who was logical to the extreme. If anyone could find a good reason not to do this, it would be Seth.

  “Do you have a choice?” he asked.

  “There’s always a choice.”

  “Yeah, but...” He shrugged. “Your mom is broke right now, and she’d be the one you could normally rely on, right? If you’ve thought up a better solution...”

  “I’d considered contacting my father,” she said quietly. “But he never paid my mother a penny of child support, so I doubt that he’d suddenly want to help with his grandchildren. And Uncle Ted said he didn’t have a job for me. I mean, he did give me some cash, but I need more than money—I need a way to support my kids.”

  “And you need my health insurance, right?” he asked, his dark eyes meeting hers.

  “You know I do,” she said.

  Her newborn sons—Aiden, Beau and Andy—had been born prematurely and their digestive tracts hadn’t been ready for regular milk. Their formula cost a small fortune, and her savings had been bled dry in the past couple weeks just trying to keep them fed. Uncle Ted, who was actually more of a family friend than actual kin, had given her a financial gift that had helped, but their need for formula wasn’t going to end soon. Seth was the ranch manager at the Ross Ranch, and as management, he had decent health insurance. That was where this idea had come from.