Heat: A Friends to Lovers Firefighter Romance Page 3

  “It was water that saved us on the day. Old Man Hobbs had trusted me to install a halo system and a kick ass copper water tank. Without it, we wouldn’t have stood a chance. It was water that pumped out on those embers and it was the water in our trucks that kept us alive.”

  “Oh,” mine wasn’t the only collective gasp. Reality had a way of kicking our ass.

  “I figure we might as well toast to our survival and to our futures, with water.”

  As Reece and the bar staff filled the jugs, I kept handing out glasses. To children, teens, adults alike. Never had plastic cups been held with such revere.

  A gust of wind carried a waft of smoke from the fires that still burned in the Brindabellas. Over two hundred kilometres away, but we the smoke burned our nostrils and caused my heart to lurch with momentary panic.

  Just another constant reminder.

  No one counted down the seconds. This wasn’t a New Year’s Eve celebration.

  Instead, at the stroke of three pm, Reece and his team started reading out the names.

  Of those who had lost a farm, a house, a job—but stayed to rebuild. Of the businesses who had chosen to stick around and tough it out.

  Old Man Hobbs then took over, naming those who had fought outside until forced inside, literally under pain of death.

  “To Captain Reece Sinclair, thank you for holding us firm. Trusting in us to trust you. To Korbin Greenhill, Steve Caswell, Bailey Rexworth, Trey Greenstreet and Eric Roth. We aren’t the only community who owe you everything. For sleeping in your stinky boots in the dirt, for working seventeen-hour shifts for months without a break. For having to choose to save homes and lives, or to save your jobs.”

  I looked to Reece’s team of humble heroes. Only one still had a job. The others lost theirs in the fires or because no employer could sustain paying for an employee who didn’t turn up to work after three months because they’d been called to serve as a volunteer bush fire fighter.

  “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

  “To Meringa!” Reece shouted.

  “To Meringa!” And the only sound was the clinking of glasses.

  As much as I wanted to stand and watch the man who’d saved our lives. Who’d stayed when others left town—I couldn’t. My feelings for him were growing out of control and I had no right to think of him as a man. He was a friend, nothing more.

  But as I started to refill glasses, the woman I’d pushed inside before the flames hit, Lydia, called for attention.

  “All of you are heroes, but I’d like to thank someone else.”

  Too busy pouring, I didn’t even turn around until she said my name.

  “Zoe Wynters. You stayed calm. That day, my children told me not to worry because you weren’t worried. You found books for them to read and lead us in crazy songs so we wouldn’t hear the trees exploding around us. Then, you babysat for everyone while we found new homes, filled in paperwork and tried to figure out what the fuck we were about to do.”

  “Mummy, language!” Eight-year-old Caitlin cried in mock horror to laughs.

  “Zoe, we didn’t really know each other before that day, but now I can say you are the sister I never had.”

  Stunned, it took Reece to push me towards Lydia and other women who echoed Lydia’s words. Embraced in a sisterhood of love I’d never known, for once tears didn’t rule the moment.

  “To us. To surviving. To moving on.” Reece called out from behind me.

  “To moving on.”

  Reece

  “Thanks again.” It seemed the only way I could start a conversation with Zoe was by thanking her for something. I’d never been able to connect brain to words around Zoe Wynters. Asking stupid questions or thanking her for random acts of kindness seemed to be my only play.

  “You’re welcome, but what for this time?” I loved the way her eyes gave me her full attention. Not looking over my shoulder for someone more interesting to talk to, the whole fear of missing out. When Zoe listened, she gave it one hundred per cent. Under her gaze I felt one thousand feet tall and insignificant at the same time.

  Proud to call her my friend and unworthy as a man.

  She deserved better than her asshole ex-husband who’d never seemed to appreciate her. She deserved better than this town. Definitely, Zoe deserved better than me. But like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t stay away. Not now she was single. Not when each day she still tried to hide her panic attack.

  I could be a friend.

  I wanted to be more.

  But not until I got my own nightmares under control.

  Heroes didn’t wake in the middle of the night genuinely believing that all the people they wanted to save had been burned alive. Heroes didn’t hear the screams of animals and people.

  The nation called me a hero. I called bullshit.

  My team, those who trusted me, they were the heroes.

  I just happened to be the senior asshole caught up in the middle of a shit storm and the lucky son of a bitch who made the right calls at the right time.

  Now, if someone could tell my sub-conscious and give the nightmares a rest.

  Time. They said time would heal.

  Hopefully, by the time I got my shit together, Zoe would still be single, and I’d feel worthy of more than a cup of coffee.

  “Having my back and handing out glasses. It started to feel like a—” Again, I fumbled for the right words.

  “Wake?”

  “Exactly.” Again, she’d read my mind.

  “Are you sticking around tonight?”

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Again, she was the easiest person in the world to talk to, banter with and just generally hang out.

  “Some haven’t stuck around,” she mused. The brush of anger passing almost as quickly as a sun shower. We both knew who she was talking about.

  “Some people had a choice and made it. We made different choices. I still feel for people whose homes and businesses we couldn’t save.”

  “But you tried.”

  “Yeah, and now there’s a community to rebuild. There aren’t too many people these days that can build a community almost from scratch.”

  “I guess.”

  “Don’t blame those who left or hate them. It takes a different type of strength to know when to leave.”

  “You’ve never talked about that day.” Zoe nodded to Old Man Hobbs for another round of drinks. Beers this time. The time for water had passed.

  “Sure I have. Hundreds of interviews. You might have seen one or two of them.” As my co-interviewee, Zoe had suffered at my side.

  “I’ve heard your interviews, but you’ve never really talked.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know. You made sure we were all safe. You made sure all saucepans and buckets had water, that the halo was turned on and that we all—”

  “Zoe, don’t.” I cut her off. Since the interview with Danielle, Zoe’s hand now found a familiar home in mine. Baby steps. “It takes more bravery to trust your life to others. To trust that they know what they’re doing. To stay afterwards and deal with the shit.”

  “But—”

  Today had been tough. Reminding us not just of the fire but the days and weeks following. Men who’d had to shoot what was left of their stock because of the burns that didn’t quite take their lives. Families who’d lost generations of memories.

  This wonderful woman who’d lost a man who didn’t deserve her.

  “I’ve seen what you do here. You’re always doing something for other people. That takes bravery. You could have left. You’ve got no family here, no ties and no job.”

  “How about you add no house and no car to the list. You make me sound pathetic.”

  “Not at all. I look at you and think you’re amazing. You heard Lydia and the others. You make sure they have time and space to resettle their families. And you don’t know what you did for us that day.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I hadn’
t spoken about that day with anyone. Not even with the rest of my team. We’d survived. Against the odds. We never spoke about the moment when we nodded our farewells. Absolutely positive there was no chance for us walking out alive, but we’d die trying to save the others.

  Still, Zoe needed to hear one part of my day.

  “There was a moment when the wind died down and the flames stopped. Everything fell silent and we thought it was all going to end.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Well, in that moment, there was this enormous wall of flames building. We thought it was going to swallow us all but there was a silence. I can’t explain it but it felt as if time stood still and all we could hear was singing.”

  “Singing?”

  “From inside the pub. We heard you all singing. It was like a premonition or something that we could possibly do this. Dig deep and hold on a little longer.”

  “You heard our singing?”

  “It gave us all something to focus on. For me, as the wind changed and fire moved on to its next target, your singing got louder until we felt the danger had passed.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Then when we came inside, parents were trying to organize food and you were looking after the kids. I saw small children having bathroom accidents and you just got them cleaned up.”

  “I needed to keep busy. But thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For making the world a safer place.”

  “Hey, kiddo. We’re all doing the best we can.”

  Zoe Wynters. Damn it, I’d crushed on her when I first saw her at the pub three years ago. A stunning blonde with bright green eyes and a smile that could melt stone. Think Miley Cyrus impish smile but with longer hair.

  I’d been captain coach of the first grade AFL team and we’d finished our pre-season team bonding session. Code for drinking until we had no secrets and no grudges to take into the first game. With three new players, we needed to get everyone on the same page.

  “Who’s the new girl?” I’d asked Korbin, nodding to the blonde in the black shorts, tanned legs, white canvas shoes and cute cropped white shirt that I just knew would show off the bottom of her bra if she reached up.

  “Dunno. Wife or girlfriend of one of the new guys?”

  “Or single and ready to become wife or girlfriend of the team captain?” I joked, staking my claim.

  “Think you missed out.” Korbin nodded as our new centre-forward, Glenn Wynters, approached her, corrected her drink order and returned to the team. I didn’t miss the look of embarrassed annoyance as he cut her out of his group of friends.

  “Felicity,” I called to an old school friend and now local schoolteacher.

  “Hey, Reece, whatsup?”

  “New girl’s hubby just joined the team. Make her feel welcome?”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s your interest?”

  “Happy wife, happy life. If hubby’s happy then good for the team.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Felicity and Korbin had seen through me, but from that moment, they welcomed Zoe into our footballing family while I kept my distance and watched.

  Never going out of my way to become friends, either with her or her now ex-husband. Wasn’t my place to cross the line.

  Still, I saw their’s wasn’t a happily ever after kind of marriage. His temper became legendary—on the field and behind the scenes. It hadn’t been his choice to move to a country town and it surprised no one when he was the first to leave after the fires.

  Zoe needed me as a friend.

  I wanted her as a woman, but could be patient.

  After all, I’d waited three years for her to be single. I could wait a few months for her to be ready to date.

  By then my nightmares had to go, surely?

  Zoe

  “Did you get the follow up media request?”

  “Which one?” Reece joined me for breakfast, again. Not that we’d intentionally started planning our meals around each other, but I coped best by having a routine. I could also justify coming down to the communal dining area at seven by being available if any parents needed me. I’d started adding taking dogs for a walk to my list of things I could do.

  Anything to keep busy, in between unsuccessful job hunting and ignoring messages from Glenn who wanted to divide up the insurance money so he could buy a new place.

  Whatever, I sighed.

  Breakfast with Reece wasn’t always the highlight of my day, but it at least ensured each day started with laughter and a smile

  “Danielle again. She texted me—”

  “Of course she did. When are you going to put her out of her misery and ask her out.”

  “I’m not in the market.”

  “Oh!” I sat back and tried to cover my disappointment. “I didn’t know you’re seeing someone; I should have been more—” I wanted to apologize for monopolizing his time, but couldn’t. “Aware.”

  “I’ve had my eye on someone for a couple of years, but she only became single recently.”

  “Oh.”

  Reece had never shown interest in me, at least not beyond friendship. My heart landed a perfect double somersault with pike. Reece Sinclair just flirted with me! Me! Green eyes, fit body, loved by animals and small children alike.

  Perfect man. Interested in me?

  Surely it was only my wishful thinking.

  “What did Danielle want?”

  I needed time to process the words Reece didn’t say.

  “There’s a lot of media interest in how the fundraising monies are being spent. She was hoping to put a human face to it.”

  “Your face?”

  “You and I are a package deal,” Reece assured me.

  “In more ways than one?”

  “Something I’d like to discuss, if you think I’d like the answer.”

  “We could invite them out to film the opening of the day care centre?”

  I needed to change the subject in case I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Reece could have any woman. Literally, he could walk into any Australian town and point to a random woman and her friends would insist she fall into his bed. I couldn’t imagine why he’d be interested in me. Homeless, unemployed and still wearing donated clothes. I wasn’t exactly bringing my dating A-game to the table.

  “And walk around the fire station, point out what we don’t have but need for next season.”

  “Do you think it’s going to be bad?” People had started worrying. Why bother rebuilding if we were only going to lose it all again.

  “The country is still in drought. The February flooding helped, but with most dams damaged in the fires, not a lot of water got captured and unless we get a wet winter—”

  “Reece, how many trucks have you got left?”

  “One that we’d retired a couple of years ago. Beggars can’t be choosers. We were losing almost one a day across the state. At a quarter of a million dollars a piece, the fundraising isn’t gonna go far.”

  “Then, I’ll contact Danielle and set up a human-interest piece. Maybe I can supplement it with some online work.”

  “Show her what you’ve got and possibly pick up some freelance work?” Reece’s smile took away any judgement at my attempts to leverage Danielle’s profession into paid work.

  “After all the exposure we’ve given her, don’t you think she owes us, I mean, owes me?”

  “Like I said, we’re a package deal.”

  “Other than million-dollar trucks, what else do you need?”

  I didn’t know why I kept changing the subject, especially when Reece leaned into me and our eyes were having a different conversation. I’d spent the last months hoping his interest was real, perhaps even trying to turn my nightmares about burning alive into dreams of a different kind of heat.

  Reece and me.

  Dreams where instead of watching him get sweaty on the football field, reaching up for marks and yelling instructions at his players, Reece was getting sweaty with m
e in the change rooms. Telling me what he wanted and how hard. Standing in the showers with not even a curtain to protect us if the rest of the team came in.

  I’d taken that as my sub-conscious’ way of telling me that I would be proud to be Reece’s partner—not that I wanted to get caught having sex in public.

  Although, the risk of being caught became a new kind of dream.

  It hadn’t mattered. Reece was nice to everyone, and we were friends. Until this morning, I hadn’t been game enough to think anything could happen.

  “What, I missed that.” I stopped looking at him as if I knew what he looked like naked—I didn’t—and covered my blushing cheeks with long hair.

  “Boots. We need boots.”

  “Million-dollar trucks and hundred-dollar boots. I think Danielle can work with that.” I tried to cover my confusion with laughter. “What’s wrong with your current boots?

  “Most of the guys have been buying equipment out of their own pocket. Goggles, gloves, spare socks, even boots. It would be great to fund at least a few pairs per person.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, my lovely, innocent Zoe, I went four days without getting changed. My team and I slept fully dressed – on the ground. Ready to jump up and get going at a minute’s notice. Our boots started to fall apart and I’ll tell you, the ground gets fucking hot. By the time I ripped off my socks, they were so stiff they could have stood straighter than I could at the time.”

  “Is that why you ended up at the doctor’s?”

  “Yeah. My left foot got infected. Totally preventable if we’d had fresh socks.”

  “Didn’t you have spares?”

  “They kinda got incinerated with my house. I had my own personal collection I’d bought online, but not everyone can afford them. And with the number of volunteers who can’t face coming back next year, we need to kit out everyone who is willing to pick up a hose.”

  “Oh, Reece. I’m so sorry.”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.” He shrugged, pulling away as subtly as he’d moved forward.

  “It’d be nice if we had a change of boots and socks to keep in the truck, just in case. There are days when it’s the simple things that make us feel normal again.”