
by Leigh Michaels
Published by Leigh Michaels at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Leigh Michaels
All rights reserved
Cover illustration copyright 2010 Michael W. Lemberger
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\*\*\*\*\*
Beth settled her sunshade in place and retied her shoes, waiting for Ginny to finish her stretches. "Come on, girlfriend. Let's get going."
Ginny stood on one foot and bent her other knee till her heel nearly touched her thigh. "You weren't so impatient to get out on the path and start sweating last week. What's going on?"
"Nothing. I just want to get our walk in early so I can have dinner ready by the time Josh gets off duty."
Ginny straightened her knee, retied her trendy scarf at the throat of her pink warmup suit, and started off down the walking path. "Everything all right between you and Josh?"
Of course Ginny would go right to the heart of things. She had an uncanny gift for that. Beth shrugged, trying to make the gesture look careless. "What could go wrong?"
"Well, it wouldn't be unheard of for the honeymoon to be over. Three months of marriage does that to a lot of couples."
"Not us," Beth said. She picked up the pace a little and told herself that the tightness in her breathing was just because she hadn't been patient enough today to warm up her muscles before starting to walk. It had nothing to do with the extra five pounds she'd acquired since her Christmas wedding. And it also had nothing to do with the fact that Josh had volunteered to swap a shift and fill in for another firefighter today, even though this was their three-month anniversary.
"You'll forgive me if I mention that your voice sounds a little hollow when you say that." Ginny waved at an acquaintance a hundred yards away, on the next loop of the walking path. "It's none of my business, of course. And I'm not trying to get rid of you, Beth, but maybe you should start taking walks with Josh sometimes instead of with me."
"He'd rather go for a run. He says it's efficient -- he gets more exercise in a shorter time frame."
"You mean he thinks walks are boring?"
No, Beth thought almost bitterly. He thinks I'm boring.
Ginny was watching her with narrowed eyes. "I hear they've hired a new firefighter at the station. A new female firefighter."
"She scored highest of all the new applicants, Josh said. And she passed all the tests."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "But before they can get hired, don't they have to -- like -- pick up another firefighter and carry him out of a building?"
"Yeah."
"And she did that? Wow. What does this woman look like, King Kong?"
"I haven't seen her yet," Beth admitted.
"What's stopping you? I make it a point to check out every new teller at the bank, just so I know exactly who Joe has hired lately and whether any of them are likely to put the moves on him to spend lunch hours in the vault."
"That's a sexist attitude."
"It sure is," Ginny said comfortably. "And if Joe hired tellers on the basis of their attractiveness, it would be worse than sexist, it'd probably be illegal. But I'm not the one who hires them -- and there's nothing wrong with a woman keeping an eye on her husband."
"It's easy for you. You have a good excuse for going into the bank every few days."
"Like you can't come up with a reason to stop by the fire station to see your husband? What kind of a wuss are you, girl? Take over some snacks for the guys. They love your chocolate-chip cookies."
"Everybody loves my chocolate-chip cookies." Including me, which is one of the reasons I'm out here sweating this afternoon. How many miles would she have to walk to get rid of that extra five pounds, anyway? And would it make any difference?
That's thinking like a loser, Beth told herself. And I'm not a loser.
Not yet, anyway.
\*\*\*\*\*
Their three-month anniversary dinner was ready by the time Josh's shift was over. A creamy asparagus soup -- almost like the one they'd shared on the last night of their honeymoon -- was simmering on the stove, the yeast rolls were in the oven, and the prime-cut steaks were ready for the barbecue grill. Beth glanced at the clock and went to tidy her hair and freshen her makeup. It took only ten minutes to drive from the central fire station to their house, and she wanted to look her very best when Josh arrived.
Ten minutes went by.
Fifteen.
A half hour.
An hour.
The soup curdled. Beth was pouring the last of it down the drain when Josh finally came in. She barely heard the back door bang because of the roar of the garbage disposal.
"Sorry I'm late," he said.
"What kept you?" Beth's voice was steady; she was proud of herself.
"Farrah wanted to review procedure for a toxic spill. We do things a bit differently than she learned at the training center. Good, you haven't started making dinner. I want a shower first." He aimed a kiss at her ear, missed, and went off down the hall, whistling.
You haven't started making dinner? She stood there with the pan in her hand and thought about hitting him with it. The roar of the blood in her ears almost drowned out the garbage disposal.
She put the steaks on the grill, pulled the rolls out of the oven, and waited.
In less than ten minutes he was back, wearing fresh jeans and a Lakewood fire department tee shirt, with his hair still dark with water and curling gently against his neck. He put his arms around her and kissed her deeply.
Beth's heart melted. He was so very handsome -- so alive, so much fun, so sexy. And he was hers. Sometimes she had to peek at his left hand -- at the gold wedding ring he always wore when he was off duty -- just to make herself believe that of all the women in Lakewood, Josh had chosen her.
She was no beauty, and Beth knew it. She was shorter than average, so every extra ounce seemed to show. Her hair was plain brown, her eyes were ordinary blue. And she was a teacher at the local preschool, with just one class of four-year-olds each morning -- so her after-work conversation was seldom very exciting, either.
As if he'd read her mind, Josh asked, "How was school today?"
"Jamie head-butted Ryan in the tummy in a squabble over their favorite swing, and Ryan threw up."
"So just another normal day at preschool then, huh?" He lifted the corner of the dishtowel which covered the yeast rolls and took a deep breath. "Man, that smells good. And steaks? What's the occasion?"
"Nothing special," she teased. "I was just thinking about where we were three mon..." She stopped suddenly.
"Where we were... when?"
"No big deal," Beth said. And she told herself it wasn't a big deal. He'd just forgotten, that was all. He'd been in a hurry after his shower because he was rushing to get back to her.
That must be why -- for the first time she could recall -- he hadn't put on his wedding ring.
\*\*\*\*\*
Josh didn't wear his heavy gold band at work, of course. A ring on a man's hand could be dangerous, he had explained. Too many firefighters had lost fingers when their rings caught on equipment, or on the unpredictable loose edges that were always a hazard at a fire scene. Because of one particularly horrible accident many years ago, the Lakewood fire department had decreed that firefighters were not allowed to wear jewelry on the job.
Beth, who loved Josh's big, strong hands, had shuddered at the idea of one of his long, expressive fingers being torn away. So though she had bought him a wedding ring and had it engraved with their names and wedding date, she made sure the box it had come in was always right on top of his dresser -- so he could easily put the ring away when he got ready for work and easily find it when he came home again.
And he always had. Until tonight.
She told herself she was being ridiculous. But the next day, as soon as she was home from her morning preschool class, she mixed up a batch of chocolate-chip cookie dough. When the first two pans to come out of the oven had cooled enough to handle, she slid the cookies onto a big glass platter and drove to the fire station.
The overhead doors were open to the early spring sunshine, and the two big fire trucks stood ready with doors open and turnout gear in place as always.
"I brought treats," she called as she went in, blinking a bit as she walked from sunshine into shadow.
A couple of firemen were polishing the brass rails on the oldest of the fire engines, which was now more of a relic than a useful piece of equipment. Fred -- the more experienced of the two -- nudged the other fireman and said, "Go get the captain, Hank."
Was there something a little guilty about Fred's tone? Surely not. Beth's imagination had gone into overdrive, that was all.
"I'll get him," Beth said brightly. "Is he in the kitchen?"
"No -- he's back in the gym," Hank admitted.
She set the plate of cookies down on the step of the fire engine and walked across the garage to a small storage area. Last fall, the guys had spent their own time and money cleaning the room out, painting the walls, and fitting it up as a workout space. But now that the weather was nicer, why was Josh spending time in a cramped, makeshift, airless gym when he could be outdoors?
He can't exactly run five miles when he's on duty, Beth reminded herself. A firefighter has to be right beside the truck when an alarm comes in, or he's not much use.
Josh was in the gym, all right, but he wasn't alone. He was standing at the head of a padded bench, spotting for the weightlifter on the bench. The moment Beth saw who was lying there, gripping the heavy iron bar, her internal sirens went off -- louder than any fire alarm she'd ever heard.
"Hey," Josh said. "What brings you down here in the middle of the day?"
He didn't sound guilty, she noted. He also didn't sound terribly interested in Beth as he helped the woman on the bench guide the bar back into the rests.
"Chocolate-chip cookies," Beth said. She couldn't take her eyes off the woman as she sprang up from the bench as gracefully as if she was dismounting from a balance beam.
On her right shoulder blade, clearly visible beside the strap of the skimpiest black tank top Beth had ever seen, was a tattoo. Before Beth could spot what it was, the woman slung a towel over her shoulder and turned around.
She was tall -- at least six inches taller than Beth. She had white-blonde hair, cut very short in an upswept, angular style that suited her elfin face and high cheekbones. She had huge blue-violet eyes and a build that could have graced the red carpet at the Oscars. There was certainly no doubt about her being female, and she obviously didn't need padding in the flesh-colored sports bra which peeked though the armhole of the tank top.
Josh said, "Beth, this is Farrah, our newest team member. Farrah, this is Beth."
Not This is my wife. Just -- Beth, she noted woodenly.
Farrah advanced, holding out her hand. "So nice to meet you." Then she seemed to think better of it and wiped her palm vigorously on the towel. "Sorry. I'm pretty hot and sweaty."
Far more pretty than hot and sweaty, Beth thought. "How do you like the fire department so far?"
"Oh, it's great. The guys have been wonderful. Very welcoming."
"Did you say you brought cookies?" Josh asked. "I hope you didn't leave them with Hank, or they'll all be gone." He led the way out of the workout room.
Beth didn't object; the room had seemed to be too small for the three of them.
"Hey, guys, leave some of those for the rest of us," Josh called across the garage to Hank and Fred.
"We were just sampling while they were still warm," Hank said. "Hey, captain, I've got an idea. We need to raise funds for some more equipment for the gym. Maybe we could have a bake sale."
"Just don't look at me," Farrah said pleasantly. "I don't bake. I'll pull my share of kitchen duty the same way all you guys do, but be warned -- you'd rather have me washing dishes than cooking."
Beth was torn between respect and irritation. Farrah had made it clear in a heartbeat that she wasn't going to be the fire station's maid just because she was the only female -- and putting that bunch of guys in their place with a smile was a feat to be celebrated. On the other hand, baking a few cookies wouldn't kill her, would it? What was so wrong with the traditional female pursuits?
Josh held out the plate. Farrah hesitated and then took a cookie. The toned, well-defined muscles in her arm flexed under tanned skin as she broke it in two and took a tiny bite. She stood like a sculpted ballerina, Beth thought, with one toe pointed out.
The cookie platter made another round.
"Hey, guys, leave a cookie for Farrah," Josh warned.
"If she's going to be just one of the guys," Hank said, "let her fight for her own."
Farrah shook her head. "They're really good, Beth. But if I ate another one, I'd have to go straight back to the gym." She laughed. "Or pick Josh up again and carry him up a flight or two of steps."
Again? It was Josh she'd carried during that training test? Beth felt chilly. She looked down at the cookie in her hand. She didn't remember taking it off the platter, much less crunching it into a ball in her fist.
"I'm going to go hit the treadmill for a few minutes," Farrah said.
In silence, they all watched her walk away. Definitely the woman was a dancer, Beth thought. She let her gaze drift from one man to the next, avoiding looking at Josh.
Hank must have noticed her watching him as he watched Farrah. He turned slightly red and said hastily, "What kind of a flower is that on her back, anyway?"
"It's a tulip," Beth said.
"Odd sort of tattoo for a firefighter to have," Fred said. "I thought about getting one once. Crossed hose nozzles. Maybe I will someday."
Hank reached out a long arm and took another cookie. "If I was to get a tattoo, I'd make it a chocolate chip."
"That would just end up looking like a cow-pie," Josh said. "Heck, maybe we should make it a team thing and everybody go get one."
Beth saw red. "Get a tattoo? You have never said a word about wanting a--"
The fire alarm shrilled.
Hank shoved the rest of his cookie in his mouth, stepped into his turnout gear, and while still pulling on his coat, climbed behind the wheel of the nearest fire truck. Fred seized his gear and headed for the other truck. Josh picked up the phone to get the dispatcher's instructions. Farrah seemed to soar across the garage, into her gear, and up into the truck's back seat.
Beth waited till the engines had cleared the station before she walked back to her car. She didn't realize until after the doors had automatically closed that Josh had picked up the cookie platter off the step of the fire truck and handed it to her.
She ate the rest of the cookies as she drove home.
\*\*\*\*\*
"A tulip," Beth told Ginny that afternoon. "She has a pink tulip, tattooed on her shoulder blade. Talk about obvious. A tulip!"
"Well, at least she doesn't have a pair of them. You know, two lips."
"For all I know, she does. Though I don't think there wasn't enough of her covered up to hide a whole flower. A petal would probably have peeked out somewhere -- unless the thing's on her derriere. No, I'd have seen it if it was, because her pants were so tight the outline of the ink would have shown!"
Ginny was panting. "Slow down, Beth. Your aggravation is making you walk so fast I can't keep up."
"And now Josh is talking about getting a tattoo. My Josh -- wanting a tattoo!"
"He must have just been acting polite. You know -- making conversation. She's the new kid on the block, so he wants her to feel comfortable. It's part of his job, as the supervisor. It doesn't mean he meant it."
Beth shook her head. "I don't buy that. If it was Joe at the bank welcoming one of his new tellers by suggesting that everyone go get stabbed with inky needles, would you say he was just making polite conversation?"
"I can't imagine Joe and inky needles in the same sentence," Ginny admitted, "much less the same room."
"Anyway, I'm going to talk to Josh tonight. If she's going to be just one of the boys, then she's going to have to behave like one of the boys. She can't have it both ways."
"Good luck," Ginny said softly. "But sweetie -- be careful. Don't go saying things you haven't thought all the way through."
"The honeymoon's over, Ginny."
"Yeah. That's exactly what I mean."
\*\*\*\*\*
Josh's SUV was already in the garage when Beth got home from the park, and he was in the kitchen with a glass of wine standing on the counter beside him. "Hey," he said as she came in. He stopped unpacking a grocery bag and casually draped an arm around her shoulders.
Beth fended him off. "I'm all sweaty from my walk."
"I don't care. But I'll wait if you want a shower first, or a long bubble bath." He put the wine glass in her hand.
"Were we out of pretzels and ice cream? Since when do you do the grocery shopping, anyway?"
"It's a special occasion. Our ninety-day anniversary."
Beth's heart fluttered. "You remembered?"
"I'm making you that pasta carton thing you liked on our honeymoon."
"It was pasta carbonara. Do you even know what ingredients go into pasta carbonara?"
"I may have come close," Josh admitted.
"Anyway, it's not our anniversary -- that was yesterday. I know what happened, Josh," she said sadly. "You finally realized why I was cooking steaks last night, so you decided to pretend it was today instead to get yourself off the hook."
"It is today. The end of December to the end of March, plus two days because February only has twenty-eight, means it's ninety days ago today that we got married. That's why I swapped shifts and worked yesterday, so I could be off early today. You'll never guess what I got you."
Beth's head was swimming. She wasn't about to dig out a calendar and count; the fact that Josh had made the calculations made her feel warm all over. Three months; ninety days... who cared which of them was actually right? Maybe they both were. He had remembered, after all.
"Is it gold?" she asked.
"Nope."
"Platinum?"
"Nope. Much more meaningful than that."
"Nothing's more meaningful than platinum," she teased. Not that she cared; she was savoring the glow. She felt like her whole insides had lit up. How she loved this man! "Don't tell me you went traditional and got me something paper, because that's for the first year, not the first three months."
"I got you a tattoo," he said.
Beth's glow died into ashes. "You did what? You want me to let someone stick inky needles into me? I suppose you've already picked out the artwork I should wear for the rest of my life, too. Well, I have something to say about that, Josh. How about the outline of a hand with the middle finger extended?"
"No, dear. No inky needles for you."
"Then what are you talking about?"
He held up a hand. His left hand. And again, he wasn't wearing his wedding ring...
She looked closer. "You hurt your hand," she said uncertainly.
"You can say that again. Wicked painful it was. I'm supposed to keep it covered till it heals, but I wanted you to see it. Look closer."
The skin at the base of his ring finger looked angry -- red and swollen. But inside the puffy area was a darker shadow, a wide gold-colored streak which went all the way around.
"It's a wedding ring I never have to take off," Josh said. "So there will never be any doubt, no matter where I go, that I'm yours."
Beth didn't know she was crying until he brushed tears away with his thumb.
"Though if you'd like to engrave my name inside a big old heart on your tush, Bethie, I could certainly get used to..."
She swatted him. Then she kissed him, hard, and she no longer cared a bit that she was sweaty from her walk.
Thank you for purchasing this story!
Leigh Michaels is the author of more than 90 books, including contemporary romance novels, historical romance novels, and non-fiction books including On Writing Romance. Six of her books have been finalists in the Romance Writers of America RITA contest for best traditional romance of the year, and she has won two Reviewers' Choice awards from Romantic Times magazine. More than 35 million copies of her books have been published in 25 languages and 120 countries around the world.
Her website is http://www.leighmichaels.com
Find her on Twitter: http://twitter.com/leighmichaels
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http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LeighMichaels
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