Rejection Can Take You Backward or Forward by Vonnie Davis

We look on rejection as a step backward, but that’s not always so. My divorce, for example, was a huge painful step backward. But because of it, I was free to meet my Calvin which was a lovely, gigantic leap forward for my heart.

Sometimes pain leads to happiness. So does rejection.

Last January, my agent sent an email to her romance writers that Carina Press had a call out for Christmas novellas. She listed the desired word count and other particulars. It's a chance to move ahead to a larger publisher, I thought, and interest sparked.

So, I wrote like a fiend to meet the deadline ... and got rejected.

A step backward.

I’ll confess the rejection stung. It was my first and brought along a passel of self-doubts. When I told my agent to send the manuscript back so I could rework it, she claimed she’d already sent Santa Wore Leathers on to other publishers. I groaned inwardly. More rejection was bound to come.

A month later, a contract offer came from HarperImpulse. Ah, a step forward.

The next week, my agent called again. “Vonnie, I need the first three chapters of that paranormal you’re working on. Oh, and a synopsis. An editor at Random House loved your novella, but since you’ve already got a contract, she asked if you had anything else she could see. Isn’t that great?”

Irritation rolled in my stomach. “What have you done? This paranormal is my play story. I piddle with it whenever I hit a rough spot in my current WIP. It’s not meant for publication. I don’t write paranormal. It’s just a play story.” I was repeating myself out of nervous fear.

“Well, play story or not, we’ve got another Big Six editor interested. Send me the three chapters and write up a synopsis.”

I felt myself sliding backwards. How could I write a synopsis of nothing?

The editor at Random House loved A Highlander's Beloved--bear shifters and all--and contracted it, offering options on three more. A big step forward.

Rejection can be a step backward. Or in my case, a few steps forward. Santa Wore Leathers led to a three-book contract from Harper-Impulse.

2014’s going to be a busy year. I hope yours if full of steps forward, too.

** Learn more about Vonnie at www.vonniedavis.com

The Fireman's Flame by Vonnie Davis

CHAPTER FOUR

 

Final Installment

The phone jarred Franny awake. She reached over her head to the wireless on the table at the end of the sofa. “Hello?”

“How's it going?” Even across the phone lines, Aaron's deep voice caressed places within her that hadn't been touched in years.

She raised on her elbow and smiled. “Fine. Tiny and I are snuggled on the sofa. Are you back at the station now?”

“Yeah. Just finished cleaning my equipment and thought I'd give you a quick call. Make sure you found everything you needed."

"I did. Thank you."

“Look, Franny...ah...there's something I need to know. I mean, I think I know since you didn't have anyone to call after the fire, but..." He swore softly, his unease obvious. "Are you involved with anyone?"

She smiled and ran a hand over Tiny's head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Then I'm going to need your cell number. Now that I've found you again, I'm not losing touch.”

Oh no. She couldn't give it to him. Would he recognize it? She'd requested the number a year or more before she'd met Wesley. One of her dark moments of defeat, of wishing for things she could never have. Still, they'd been out of high school for so long. No doubt he wouldn't make the association. "Sure. 555-2239." She crossed her fingers and winced.

There was a long beat of silence. "2239? My high school locker number?"

So much for luck. What's it gonna be? Feign innocence or act like it's some odd coincidence? "Yes. I guess it is, now that you mention it."

"Franny." A long sigh wafted over the phone line. There was longing in the way he spoke her name. “Get some rest. I’ll see you after my shift.”

After ending the call, Franny sat on the edge of the sofa and ran her fingers through her hair. What exactly was going on between her and Aaron? She rotated her shoulders and stretched. “I need to get my life together, you know that?” The dog whined. “What was it Aaron said to the cab driver? He said, ‘We learn our true strength when we suffer a loss.’ Sometimes we have no choice, but to be strong. Now’s not the time for me to be weak and needy, is it?” Tiny licked her hand. “I know what you want. More t-r-e-a-t-s. Me? I just want a life. Guess I better make a list, huh? Where did I put my handbag?”

Her leather shoulder bag sat on the bottom step of the stairway. The expensive bag had been her Christmas gift from her parents last year. Now it was literally all she owned. Now’s not the time to be maudlin, Frances. Now’s the time to be strong and organize your life. She took two more Tylenol and began making a list. People she needed to call. Places she needed to go. Forms she needed to fill out. Satisfied with her plans, she snuggled under the afghan once more.

Tiny’s whining and a key in the lock woke Franny. She glanced around the darkened room. How long had she been asleep? Rubbing her eyes, she sat and blinked when the lights came on.

“There you are. How’s my pretty guest feeling?” Aaron shrugged out of his leather coat and threw it over the back of a chair. “How’s the foot?”

Her mouth went dry; even so, she forced out “okay.” She’d seen him earlier, but his heavy fireman’s uniform had concealed the hardened, developed muscles beneath. The man evidently had a serious work-out routine. His black sweater stretched over broad shoulders, solid pecs and flat abs. My, my, didn’t skinny Aaron Brenner grow up mighty fine?

He strode over to the Christmas tree, squatted and reached to plug in the lights. Jeans stretched tight over thick thigh muscles. “How did you and Tiny get along?” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling with humor. “He didn’t con you out of any treats did he?”

At the mention of the “t” word, Tiny barreled out of the living room. Aaron shook his head and chuckled. “That pup’s a mess.”

“Pup? How much bigger do you expect him to get? You know naming him Tiny was a dirty trick.” She aimed a pretend scowl his way before a smile overruled.

Tiny pranced back into the living room, the handle of the treat bucket clamped in his jaws. His tail wagging in a happy-to-be-me signal. The dog set his treasure next to his owner, sat and watched with expectation.

“Two.” Aaron held up two fingers.

Tiny growled and barked.

“Okay. Three. But only because it’s Christmas.”

The dog licked his owner’s chin.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.” Aaron removed three treats before snapping the lid on top of the container. “Take this back first.” Tiny trotted off with the bucket.

“I don’t know who has who better trained.”

“Yeah, I wonder that myself sometimes. He’s a shelter pup. We kind of saved each other after I got back from Iraq a couple years ago.” Aaron settled on the sofa next to her, the treats fisted in his large hand. “I see Jenna was here with some clothes.” Tiny trotted back into the room and rested a paw on Aaron’s knee until he slipped him a treat.

“Yes. Her son was one of the patients I read to at Children’s Hospital. My favorite, in fact.”

“Well, you’re Drew’s favorite, too. He still talks about you. You were a big help to him emotionally. I used to watch you read to him.”

“Are you the one who took the picture of him on my lap? The one upstairs in the blue bedroom?”

He tossed the second treat to Tiny. “Yeah. I was shocked to find you reading to my nephew. It was the first I’d seen you since high school graduation. I had you tucked away in my mind, living in the mid-west, or someplace far away, married with a passel of kids.”

“No marriage. No kids. A few guys here and there. One I dated for a long while, but it didn’t work out.”

“Let me guess. A professional man? One your daddy put his stamp of approval on?” Bitterness tinged his voice.

 “So why didn’t you speak to me at the hospital? Drew was in and out quite often. I’m only there two days a week to read, but still you’d have seen me from time to time.”

He lobbed Tiny’s final treat across the room into the hallway. “I had a big crush on you back in the day. I won’t deny it. Eight years is a long time for a normal man to carry a crush.” A quick smile animated his serious features. “But then no one ever said I was normal.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his thighs and his gaze focused on them when he spoke. “I was dealing with a lot when I first saw you at the hospital. I'd just gotten back from Iraq and was adjusting to regular society again. Nightmares. Mood swings. I basically communicated through grunts and one-word responses." His fingers entwined and clasped so hard his knuckles whitened. "I went through counseling for PTSD. Was a hellacious rough spell of healing. One step forward, two back. You know how that goes. I was worried sick about little Drew, which helped in an odd way. Got my mind off me and focused onto someone else's pain." He lifted a shoulder in a sad form of expression. "Then Dad got sick, which threw me further off balance. He’d always been so strong." His dark eyes pinned her. "I guess I figured I still wasn’t good enough for you with all my baggage.”

If he had approached her and reintroduced himself, how would she have reacted? Would she have given him a chance? Or would she have clung to her hope of a future with Wesley? Perhaps it was true what people said, timing was everything.

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad. Losing a parent must be very rough.”

He leaned against the back of the sofa and rubbed his hands over his face in a scrubbing motion. “Yeah, it was…is… The holidays have been…” He exhaled a long audible sigh. Tiny came over and laid his chin on his owner’s knee as if to offer comfort. Aaron cleared his throat and petted the dog.

Franny said nothing, allowing him to process his thoughts.

“Listen, about tonight. Jenna’s pretty excited. I’ve already gotten three texts from her and one from Mom. You should be forewarned.” He glanced at her with a sheepish grin. “The matchmaking brigade will be out in full force. I hope they won’t make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re all very close, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I owe them a lot after putting up with my rebellious teen years and my obsession with music. I was a snot-nosed brat focused on one thing.” His gaze flicked to hers. “Well, maybe two.” Standing, he strode to his jacket and shoved his hand into a pocket. “I didn’t know how important this was to you. I retrieved it when I scooped you out of the tub.” He returned to the sofa and handed her The Fireman’s Flame before he sat.

Her heart did a backflip into love. “You saved this for me?” She clutched the beloved paperback to her chest. How did he know?

A faint blush fanned across his cheeks. “You always did treasure your books. At least you did in high school. I presume that hasn’t changed.”

Her fingers caressed the frayed edges of the romance she read at least twice a year. “No, it hasn’t changed. This is my all-time favorite.” She leaned in and inhaled his leather and pine scent before kissing his square jaw. “Thank you. You…you have no idea what this means to me.” She swiped a tear. “Silly, I know, to be so emotional over a book.”

His muscular shoulder lifted again. “I don’t find it silly at all. I have sheet music I’ve collected that I value highly. Some is sentimental because of who it reminds me of.” He cleared his throat as if he wanted to change the subject. “Ah…so what all did you do this afternoon?” He jerked his chin toward the tablet on the coffee table. “Looks like you’ve been making a list.”

“Yes. Weighing my options. Taking charge of my life. I’ve got three areas that need a total redo.”

His dark eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

“I need a place to live obviously. I’m thinking of finding a roommate on Craig’s List instead of another tiny apartment in an old building. Rents are just too high to live alone.”

“Just make sure you have someone do a thorough background check on whoever you want to move in with. Lots of crazies out there.”

“Don’t worry, I plan to.”

 “Your second area?”

“A new job. I’m thinking about getting a temporary waitressing job. My hours were cut at the pre-school where I work, so I’ve decided to go back to school once my insurance money comes in. It won’t pay for everything, but it’ll get me started. The tips will help, too.”

“I thought you went to college after high school. At least that’s what I heard whenever I asked about you. It was like you’d dropped off the face of the earth. I looked for you in all your old hangouts.”

“Dad sent me to Grandma’s in New Jersey after graduation.”

His finger trailed over her hand, creating all kinds of fluttery feelings just as he had so many years ago on the rare occasions he’d touched her. “I joined the Army when I couldn’t find you. Just as well. I didn’t have anything to offer. Back then I was too angry at the world.”

“You were never angry with me.”

He entwined his fingers with hers. “How could I be angry with the sweetest person in my life? You’d planned on going to college at City University of New York. Did you?”

“No.” She shook her head, recalling the awful arguments over her choice of school. “Dad insisted I go to Fordham. He wanted me to major in pre-law, but I switched my major to early education my second semester, much to his displeasure.”

“Bet he threw a bitch of a fit. He liked to control your life.”

She nodded and exhaled a spurt of laughter. “Oh yeah, to say the least. He told me I wouldn’t be happy teaching pre-school. Turns out he was right. Now I realize my heart yearns to be a nurse.”

He slipped his arm across the back of the sofa and fingered her hair. “You’d be great at that, especially if you were able to get into pediatrics. I watched you with Drew and the other kids in the ward. You’ve got a knack for making them forget their pain.”

She smiled. Wasn’t that nice of him to say? “Thanks.”

His hand cupped her cheek and his dark eyes searched hers as his thumb caressed her bottom lip. “And the final thing?”

Her hand settled over his heart. “I might want to get reacquainted with people I went to high school with, back in the day. Especially a certain musician.”

The sofa shifted as he turned toward her, enveloping her in his arms. Humor twinkled in his eyes and the corners of his mouth twitched as if they wanted to smile. His head inclined and warm lips found a sensitive spot beneath her ear. Trembles skittered over her skin in response. He kissed her jawline. “Did I tell you what I told Santa I wanted for Christmas?”

She rolled her eyes. “Next thing you’re going to tell me you’ve been a very good boy.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.” His lips softly covered hers, and she was home.

~~~~

Thank you for visiting daily to read my story. I hope you enjoyed reading about young love rediscovered. Merry Christmas to you.

Amazon: http://bit.ly/SantaLeathers
Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/1846Aau

Visit Vonnie at www.vonniedavis.com
 

The Fireman's Flame by Vonnie Davis

CHAPTER THREE 

The cab eased to the curb in front of a brick townhouse. Thanking the driver, Franny lifted the edges of her blankets and hobbled up the sidewalk to Aaron’s front porch. The cold seeped through the cardboard soles of her booties, and she shifted from one foot to the other as she slipped the key into Aaron’s lock. Once inside, she glanced at the security code he’d written and quickly keyed it in.

Toenails clattered across the hardwood floors and a woolly mammoth galloped toward her. Paws the size of baseballs knocked her back against the wall. “Tiny?” she squeaked. He sniffed over her and whined. She scratched behind his ears; he seemed friendly enough. “Only an owner like you’ve been saddled with would name a Sheepdog Tiny.” She ruffled his shaggy fur. “Are you a good boy?” With a woof, he charged back the hall and, within seconds, raced toward her again with a bucket handle clamped in his jaws. His tail wagging like windshield wipers on high speed, he set the bucket on the floor and nosed it toward her.

“What’s this?” She read the printing on the lid: Treats 4 Tiny. “Is this your way of telling me you’ve been a good boy?” He woofed and she opened the lid, tossing him two.

The doorbell rang and she spun to answer. The sudden movement jarred her broken toe and sprained ankle. “Ouch! Oh, ow!” She bent to rub the throbbing areas. Tiny darted behind a chair, dark eyes peering at her from the tan and brown shaggy hair. “It’s okay, big guy. No need to be afraid.” When she opened the door, she found a familiar looking woman on the porch, a winter coat draped over her arm, holding a shopping bag.

“Frances, how good to see you again.” She had one of those sunbeam smiles.

The visitor’s friendly face clicked into place in Franny’s memory. “You’re Drew’s mom. How is he? Wait, are you Jenna, Aaron’s sister?” By donating time to the children's cancer wing of the local hospital, she'd met and fallen in love with many seriously ill children. Drew had been one of her favorites.

“That I am.” She stepped into the living room and petted Tiny. “I can’t stay. My house is a disaster. I’ve even got wrapping paper stuck on a curtain rod. With Drew in remission, we kind of went overboard this year.” She handed Franny the bag and coat. There’s sweat clothes in there, old, but clean. Since you’re coming over for dinner tonight—”

“I am?” When had this been decided? Is this what Aaron was talking about with her hand pressed against his muscular thigh? Who could think then? Not her.

Jenna nodded. “You are. My brother and momma always join us the evening of Christmas Day. This will be our first year without Dad, so your coming will be a blessing. Your presence will help keep everyone’s mind off who isn’t there this year.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t intrude.” This might be too awkward. She shouldn’t barge into a family event, their first Christmas without a parent.

“Nonsense. Thanksgiving was the worst. Aaron, his face pinched with pain, carved the turkey, which had always been Dad’s job. Momma sobbed. I got tipsy off wine. You’ll make Christmas better, believe me. Now, I also packed jeans and a sweater. Shoes and other things you’ll need too.”

Franny hugged the bag. “Thanks. I’ll see you get them back in a few days when I get some things of my own. I don’t have a stich of clothing left.”

Jenna’s forehead wrinkled in question. “Really?” Her gaze took in Franny’s blanket wrapped attire.

“I’m afraid your brother found me naked in the tub with my toe wedged in the spigot.”

A quick hand flew to Jenna’s mouth and her eyes lit with humor. “Oh, that’s just too wild. Of all women to find naked, the one my brother’s crushed on for years.” She snatched Franny’s hand, making no pretense about looking for a ring. “Tell me you’re not seeing anyone.” Her eyebrows waggled. “Oh, I feel a matchmaking spell coming on. Wait ʼtil I tell Momma.”

“Well, no, I’m not but…” My goodness Aaron’s sister was as much a steamroller as he was a runaway freight train.

“Then I’ll tell you. Aaron’s been crazy for you since your junior year in high school. He was so hurt when your father didn’t think he was good enough to take you to the senior prom.”

“So was I, but that was so long ago.”

Jenna waved an open palm as if to erase Franny’s words. “The timing doesn’t matter, only the strength of the feelings. You know, I thought when he saw you reading to Drew in the hospital, he’d make his move. Then Dad had a massive coronary and needed Aaron’s help. Between my brother’s crazy shifts at work, family obligations and fixing up this old place, his love life always seems on hold.” Jenna tugged a Christmas bow off her hair and looked at it as if she’d forgotten it was there. “He dates from time to time, but nothing serious. I think he’s always had his heart set on you.”

“Me? That’s preposterous. After so many years, we don’t even know each other, not really.” Although she did have to admit his demeanor today was caring and tender. “I’m not the person I was in high school. Heck, I’m not even the person I was yesterday.”

Jenna reached out and touched Franny’s arm. “No, after the trauma of the fire and losing everything, I guess you aren’t. Look, I have to go. See you tonight. Come hungry. I’ve cooked for a battalion.” She opened the door and breezed out.

Securing the lock, Franny slowly climbed the steps, her feet getting caught in her smoke-filled bedspread a time or two. What appeared to be Aaron’s bedroom was done in red and brown. A King-sized bed took center stage while the air was heavy with the leather and pine based cologne she’d caught a whiff of when he lifted her from the bathtub.

Farther down the hall, a door hung open to a small tan and green office. Three guitars on stands lined one wall. So he still played. Framed sheet music hung above the instruments. Some were signed, while one was—her hand flew to her throat; it couldn’t be—decorated with a red lipstick print in the corner. A memory sailed back on a quarter note. “Here, Franny,” he’d implored. “Kiss this song I wrote. For luck. Maybe I’ll sell it one day.” He’d titled it “Love is Red.” Don’t go reading anything into this.  

Over the desk hung a huge poster of Shrapnel, Aaron's high school band, playing for a Valentine’s Dance. Aaron's long hair was pulled back in a ponytail as he poured his soul into the music coming from the strings of his guitar.

She stepped closer. Was this taken their junior or senior year? She leaned in and noted the two rings at his eyebrow. Senior year. He’d gotten those piercings over Christmas break of their senior year. Why do I remember that? Her gaze drifted to the dreamy-eyed girl standing at the edge of the stage, peering around the blue curtain. Busted by the camera, Franny. I did love hearing him sing. Was that why he had the poster made? Because her feelings were so obvious while she secretly watched him? She was supposed to be in charge of instrument repair if a guitar string broke; he’d patiently taught her how to restring a guitar. Frankly she’d have done anything to be near him until her father made it clear Aaron Brenner was persona non grata.

She shook her head and turned away. So long ago. Her father had sent her to grandma’s place for the summer after graduation. Cherished teenaged dreams were eventually replaced with collegiate experiences. Life moved on, even as a hollowness she couldn’t name formed within her soul. A hollowness that shaped her life. Depression, her mother called it. Franny looked on it more as a quiet desperation.

The room at the end of the hallway was navy and sky blue. Spaceships decorated the bedspread and curtains. She slowly turned and smiled. Was this Drew’s room? Did he come visit his uncle? A photo on the dresser caught her eye. It was of a skinny, bald Drew sitting on her lap during story time in the children’s ward. He was the sweetest kid when he’d been in the children’s hospital—all five times. She could never forget how he’d beg to hear her read about firemen? Now she knew why.

She called her parents and wished them Merry Christmas, never once mentioning the fire. Why ruin their holiday by making them worry? In a couple days she’d tell them what happened. She also phoned the hospital to tell them she wouldn’t be in to read to the children today. After she ended the call, she locked the bedroom door and hobbled into the bathroom. Hot water…soap…shampoo…heaven.

Jenna’s clothes fit, except for the bra. Nature had handed Franny tangerines instead of grapefruits. Surely no one would notice she was going braless under the navy sweatshirt. As for the sweater she was to wear tonight, she wasn’t so sure.

Tiny sat outside her door when she opened it nearly an hour later. He dropped a ball at her feet and practically smiled at her.

“Oh, I see who runs this household.” She tossed the ball back the hall into Aaron’s bedroom and Tiny bolted like a hairy lightning rod on steroids. After five or six throws, Franny limped toward the stairway. “I’m starved, Tiny, how about you?” He shot around her, headed for the feed bowl. She gave him a handful of kibble before making tomato soup and a grilled cheese—comfort food. Dark cherry cabinets, black and grey granite countertops and chrome appliances were a modern combination conducive to cooking. Two holiday art projects, obviously made by a child, held places of honor on the refrigerator door. A miniature pine tree adorned with tiny ornaments decorated the end of the bar. Electric Christmas candles were on the windowsills. She sat at the bar eating in utter contentment; the room had a homey feel to it.

She rinsed off her dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Two yawns, a couple Tylenols and she slowly hobbled into the living room where Aaron had an artificial tree simply decorated in red and silver bulbs. “Tiny, the least you could do is turn on the Christmas tree lights. They might help lull me to sleep.” She pulled the red, white and blue afghan off the back of his red sofa and stretched out. Tiny jumped up, too, and lay across her feet as if he knew they were still cold after a hot shower.

Christmas, and she was homeless, lacking a boyfriend and adrift in her life. At twenty-six, she owned nothing, and her job was in question. She swiped at more scalding tears. Nothing in her life was permanent. Tiny crawled up her body and licked her face. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” His tail thumped her thighs. Sweetheart. Aaron had called her sweetheart. Could his sister be right? Had he truly cared for her in high school? Her fingers enveloped the golden heart at her neck, a movement she’d done whenever he came to mind or when loneliness crept into her soul. Did those feelings of long ago still exist? She couldn’t think about that right now. Other more pressing problems loomed. She yawned and darkness slowly took over.
~~~~

 

 Amazon: http://bit.ly/SantaLeathers

Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/1846Aau

Visit Vonnie at www.vonniedavis.com

Come back tomorrow for the final installment of "The Fireman's Flame." 

The Fireman's Flame by Vonnie Davis

CHAPTER TWO

Blood rushed to Franny's head when Aaron slung her across his shoulders in typical fireman’s carry fashion. He pulled the bedspread over her bare backside. “Gotta admit, all those times in high school when I dreamed of sweeping you off your feet, this isn’t what I had in mind. Hold the edge of this over your fanny, Franny.”

He was so getting slugged once he carried her out of this building.

Striding through her small apartment, he snatched her purse from her coat closet doorknob and passed it to her. He stepped into the hallway, every inch the fireman. The next few minutes were a blur of heat, smoke and falling debris. Aaron slowed once to seemingly assess their escape strategy. “The front exit is compromised. Steps are gone. We’ll crawl out a window.”

She nearly cried with relief when he finally handed her off to two firemen outside.

“Get her medical help. I’m going back for more tenants.” That quickly he was gone.

Faces and emergency equipment whizzed by in a blur as a fireman rushed her to an ambulance, setting her in the back beside Mr. Dunlap, his silver hair standing on end and his face covered with an oxygen mask.

He lifted one edge of his facemask. “Bet it was old Mrs. Kawolski and her blasted candles that started this fire.” Mrs. Kawolski had rebuffed his romantic advances last year, and the two had been at odds since.

A female EMT slipped an oxygen mask over Franny’s face, then introduced herself as Liz as she checked her pulse. Meanwhile a male EMT, Cliff she thought he said, sawed away the spigot. Once freed, her toe quickly swelled. Liz proclaimed it broken with a slight sprain to her ankle. Using quick movements, she wrapped Franny’s foot in an Ace bandage from toenail to calf, then slipped stretchy slippers over her bare feet.

“Here.” Cliff returned and thrust a cup of hot coffee into her trembling hands. He draped another blanket over her shoulders.

“Thanks.” Franny’s focus shifted to the burning building. Where was Aaron? He’d gotten her to safety and didn’t hesitate to go back for anyone else who might still be inside. Typically heroic for a fireman. A description she’d never thought to use on edgy Aaron Brenner. And he had been edgy in high school, edgy and a shade dangerous. When he’d asked her to the prom, she’d been thrilled. Her father’s refusal to allow her to associate with a “lowlife kid with a ponytail and piercings” had nearly broken her heart. All her tears and tantrums had done nothing to sway him. Instead he’d arranged for his partner’s son—the six-handed sex-fiend—to escort her. Now, she couldn’t recall his name, but she had no trouble recalling how she’d felt that night when Aaron came to her rescue, kissed her on the forehead and put her in a taxi to assure her safe delivery home after the prom.

She sipped the coffee, relishing its warmth spreading through her stomach while her focus remained on the building. Where was Aaron? Was he okay?

New York City temperatures were freezing, and water from the fire hoses soon formed humongous ice cycles. Thick layers of ice covered the wide steps and sidewalk. A shiver skittered through Franny and she huddled deeper into the blankets wrapped around her. Where is he? Please let him be safe.

Finally, his form emerged from the dark smoke rolling out of the window they’d exited. He held a wild-eyed cat wrapped in a blanket as he slung a long leg over the windowsill.

Olivia, a little girl from an apartment on the second floor, bolted toward him. “Whiskers! You found Whiskers!”

Aaron swept Olivia into his embrace so she could look at her cat. She kissed Whiskers and then Aaron before resting her head against his broad shoulder. Olivia’s sobbing mother rushed to take her child and the orange feline from his protective arms.

Head up, Aaron’s gaze zeroed in on Franny as if he had an internal homing device as to her whereabouts. She trembled at his intense stare as he strode toward her. He’d grown taller since high school and moved with the assurance of a confident man. Military life had matured him. I wonder if that’s where he got that sexy swagger. Then her rescuer stopped in front of her and her tummy did a strange twitchy thing.

Keeping his gaze locked on her, Aaron removed his protective helmet and then his earphones attached to the wireless communication device. He tugged off his gloves and trailed fingers down her bandaged calf. “How’s the toe?”

“What?” She was still acknowledging her very feminine reaction to his very male presence, trying her best to catalog it into some comfortable compartment of her soul. This had to be a result of some kind of saving syndrome. Certainly psychologists had a name for the way he made her feel—feminine, needy, aroused.

Memories from high school rushed back. He’d evoked the same feelings in her back then, too. Everyone called him dangerous, but he’d been gentle and caring with her. Full of praise. She’d been so spellbound she could barely talk around him. Here she was, eight years later, just as mesmerized. What’s up with that?

The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled and he smiled as if he could glimpse into her confused mind. “I see they got the spigot off it.”

Franny cleared her throat. “Oh, yes. My toe might be broken.”

“Nothing they can do for that, really. Ice. Time. The EMT’s checked your vitals? Oxygen levels okay?”

She nodded, uncomfortable with his close scrutiny, as if he truly cared about her on a more personal level. Which was absurd. “Sure, I’m fine. I mean, what’s a broken toe and a slight ankle sprain? I could have died in there. Thank you for saving me.”

He dropped to his hunkers in front of her. “Is there anyone you want me to call, Franny? Where will you go?”

“Ah…” Now that her parents lived in Florida and her sister and family were visiting them, where would she go? Tears pricked the backs of her eyes as the scope of her situation slammed into her. She was homeless and naked. With her hours cut at work, her funds would soon decrease. Thank God she had renter’s insurance, but how soon would she receive the money from her policy? Where would she sleep tonight? She couldn’t call Wesley. Lori Ann and her partner had gone skiing. “No, there’s no one. I’m alone.”

He unzipped his fireman’s jacket and retrieved his cell, punching a number. His hand engulfed hers in a proprietary gesture even as he glanced at the firemen still hosing down the building and the structures on either side. “Jenna? I know this is bad timing, but when is having a fire ever convenient.” He exhaled a weary sigh. “I’m fine. Listen, sis, I have a friend who lost everything. She’s in dire need of warm clothes, like right now. Do you have a suit of sweat clothes you could loan her? Some heavy socks.”

Standing, he leaned back against the opened ambulance, Franny’s hand engulfed in his and pressed to his thigh while he listened to his sister. “Frances Benson from high school. Yeah, that’s her. Gorgeous red hair and eyes so blue you could—” His gaze swept to Franny and his cheeks reddened. He coughed as if he were embarrassed by his description of her. “I think she’s about your size. I know this is Christmas and all, but could you bring them to my house? I’m giving her the key so she has someplace warm to stay for a few days until she gets her bearings.”

Was he kidding? Stay with him? She jerked on his hand to get his attention before the runaway freight train known as Aaron Brenner planned out her entire life. “No. No, I can’t.”

The man ignored her remarks. “Hey, that would be great. My shift ends at six and we could come by afterward. Awesome. You’re the best. Tell Drew I got something special for him. Merry Christmas, brat.” He laughed and disconnected only to scroll through his numbers.

“Are you deaf? I’m not going to your place.”

He aimed dark eyes at her. “You’re undoubtedly in shock. That’s why you’ve forgotten cops tend to frown on women traipsing around without clothes. You need a shower, clean clothes and something to eat. You’ll have all three at my house. I’ve got a spare bedroom with its own bath. Plenty of privacy. I can’t take you, so I’ll call a taxi.”

His kindness ate away at her control. Her hands swiped scalding tears. What choice did she have, really? She could get a hotel room, although walking into a lobby, filled with people, while she was naked beneath her bedspread would be beyond awkward. Since it was Christmas, there’d be no stores open to buy needed items. Okay, she’d accept his charity for one or two days.

After tucking his phone back into a pocket, he removed his key ring and slipped off a key. “Do you have pen and paper?” He jotted information on the pad she’d retrieved from her purse. “Here’s my address, security code and cell number. You’ll be bunking in the blue bedroom. Eat whatever you can find. Oh, don’t let Tiny scare you. He’s more bark than bite.” He looked over his shoulder. “Look, I gotta get back to work. Keep the home fires burning.” He winced. “Bad pun, huh? Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Your sense of humor always was warped.”

“True that.” He pivoted, barked instructions to another fireman and then turned back to her. “That looks like your cab at the corner. Grab your purse.”

A squeak escaped her lips when he picked her up and carried her to her ride. “There’s Epson salts under the vanity in the Master bathroom. You’ll find a basin in there, too. Soak your foot in it for ten, fifteen minutes and then rewrap it.”

“Yes, daddy.” Her voice held a tinge of sarcasm.

His dark eyes pinned hers. “Now there’s words I’ve dreamed of hearing.”

The cab driver opened the back door for her. “Bad fire, huh?”

Aaron nodded. “Yeah. Building’s a total loss.”

“How can folks go on after losing everything? Especially at Christmas.” The driver shook his head. “It’s a damn shame is what it is.”

Aaron placed her gently on the back seat. “There’s an old saying, ‘Adversities introduce a man to himself. Wise people learn their true strength when they suffer a loss.’” He made sure the blankets were tucked securely around her, belted her in and then, just as he’d done eight years earlier on prom night, he kissed her forehead. “I’ll be home around six-thirty unless there’s another fire somewhere. If there is, I’ll call the house phone.” He shoved a bill into the driver’s hand. “Drive safely.” He tipped his head toward her. “The lady’s pretty special.”
~~~~

http://bit.ly/SantaLeathers

Visit Vonnie at www.vonniedavis.com

Come back tomorrow for episode three of "The Fireman's Flame." 

The Fireman's Flame by Vonnie Davis

Chapter One

This was the last place she expected to spend Christmas, stuck in her cast-iron tub with her big toe wedged in the spigot. Well, welcome to another far-fetched development in my disastrous life. Franny Benson yanked on her foot one more time and Einstein’s quote about insanity came to mind. “Yes, I’m doing the same thing over and over.” Her jaws clenched so hard they hurt. “And, yes, I keep hoping for different results but at the moment, Mr.-Know-It-All Einstein, what freaking choice do I have?”

Earlier, when the continual drip, drip, drip from the faucet got on her nerves, she’d rolled a washcloth and shoved it into the pipe’s opening. Before long, the washcloth was soaked and dripping too. So to silence the infernal plopping, she’d removed the cloth and plugged the hole with her big toe.

A big mistake in hindsight.

Enjoying the quiet, she’d gone back to reading The Fireman’s Flame, sipping on a glass of wine and by the time she’d finished the romance, the bottle was empty and her toe trapped.

Wasn’t this just the perfect ending to a less than perfect week?

Her hours at Bunnies and Bears Day Care had been slashed, her landlord raised her rent and her boyfriend of three years had just announced he was gay.

Franny scowled at the empty wine glass and hiccupped. “Bah-humbug.”

No use pounding on the wall for help. Mr. Dunlap, who lived on the other side, was deaf as a paperweight. She couldn’t reach the ceiling to alert her upstairs neighbors. And with her toe blocking off most of the water, she couldn’t overflow the bathtub in hopes of flooding the slime ball downstairs. Not that he couldn’t use a good bath.

She’d drained the tub over an hour ago when the bubbles disappeared along with the water’s heat. In an effort to keep warm, she covered with her towel.

For the twentieth or thirtieth time, she yanked on her foot, hoping her latest effort would free her toe, but no such luck. Her ankle was swollen from repetitive jerking and, by the way her toe hurt, it was swollen too. Honestly, you’d think at the age of twenty-six, she’d know better than to stick any part of her anatomy into a leaky faucet. You’d also think she’d be observant enough to notice Wesley was more eager to spend time with his friend than her, but no. She’d seen only what she wanted to see. Another hiccup popped out.

Merry Christmas to me.

She should have flown to Florida to spend the holidays with her parents at their Gulf-front condo, but she’d wanted to spend Christmas Eve with Wesley, hoping she’d get the diamond she’d been anticipating for the past two years. I was such a fool.

Last night as they’d walked home from Christmas Eve services, Wesley held her hand. The snow fell gently amid the twinkling lights of her neighborhood decorations, and she’d stuck out her tongue to catch a few flakes. She remembered thinking it was a perfect holiday evening.

Wesley acted very nervous when they reached the exterior steps of her apartment building. “Franny, we need to talk.”

Her heart rate kicked up. This is it. He’s going to propose, but why not wait until we get inside? Oh, how sweet, he’s going to make it a grand public gesture. “Sure. Do you want to talk out here or come up to my apartment? I’ll make us some hot chocolate or eggnog, if you prefer.”

He cleared his throat and stared at his feet. “I’ve been seeing someone else.”

 “What?” A strange buzzing filled her ears. “What did you say?”

“I’ve been lying to myself for years, denying my true sexual identity.” He took a deep breath and tipped back his head, glancing at the snow-heavy sky. “I’m gay.” His trembling hand cupped her cheek. “I think a lot of you, we’ve been best friends for years. But being with John makes me happy. We’re buying a condo together.”

“John? Your friend from college? The banker?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around his shocking revelation. Gay? He and John are gay lovers?

“You know I wish you only the best, Franny. But I can’t go on living a dual existence.” She remained frozen in shock as Wesley brushed a kiss to her cheek, said goodbye and walked away on the snowy street as muted strains of Christmas carols drifted from someone’s apartment. Gay. The guy I’ve been dating is gay.

Now she understood why Lori Anne, her lesbian co-worker, had told her to ditch Wesley, that he wasn’t the man for her. Why couldn’t he have been honest about his sexuality? Why had he led her on all these years? Didn’t he care he was hurting her?

A healthy cry hadn’t helped. Nor had a quart of peppermint chocolate ice cream or a bag of potato chips. Or a box of chocolate-covered cherries. She’d have to jog eight hours a day for the next week to burn off those calories.

When sleep hadn’t come by three in the morning, she’d decided on a bubble bath and a reread of one of her favorite romances. Every time she read about the handsome fireman who had a crush on the girl next door, Franny cried. The man’s feelings were tender and true, an alpha with a beta center.

This morning’s read had been no exception. Why can’t I be the type of woman to instill such devotion in a man? Devotion and passion. She wrapped her hands around her ankle and gave her foot another good yank. “I could use some devotion and passion, God. And some help to get my toe out of this blasted spigot.” She glanced heavenward. “Are you listening up there? I need an intervention here!” For God’s sake, Franny, calm down.

Tears prickled the backs of her eyes. After two long crying jags throughout the night, how could she possibly produce more tears this morning? If she ever got out of this tub, she was putting on warm pajamas and going to bed for the entire day.

Oh no! I volunteered to read stories to the kids in the cancer wing of Children’s Hospital this afternoon. I can’t let them down. She had presents wrapped for each child, a little something to brighten their Christmas while hospitalized. 

A distinct odor wafted from somewhere in the building. She inhaled deeply and snorted. It was barely dawn, and someone was already burning the Christmas goose.

Shouts of alarm shot through the paper-thin walls of the old building. What in the world was going on? Somebody must have gotten his or her dearest wish for Christmas. A stab of envy pierced Franny’s heart. There’d be no diamond again this year. Heck, she wouldn’t even get a chaste kiss under the mistletoe. And looking back, Wesley's kisses were almost always chaste. I should have suspected something. Give it a rest, Franny. The romance, such as it was, is over.

She reached for the bar of soap. Maybe she could spread enough over her toe to somehow get it worked into the area inside the spigot. Then maybe she could free it.

Whew! Whoever’s cooking needs to turn down the heat on their stove. Her hand stilled. She sniffed again. Were her tear-swollen sinuses detecting the odor correctly? It didn’t smell like burnt food. It smelled like…fire!

Her chest constricted and a chill raced through her body. A heady pulse gonged in her ears. Surely not. No!

Sirens in the distance confirmed Franny’s worst fears. Her apartment building was burning, and she was trapped—and naked. Frantic, she soaped the base of her big toe some more. I have to get it loose. I have to!

Pandemonium erupted. Flashing lights from fire apparatus glowed in her tiny bathroom window. Men bellowed orders. A ladder clanked against the side of her building. Engines whirred and sounds she didn’t recognize punctuated the Christmas morning air.

Leaning forward, she looked into the hallway leading to the living room. Was that smoke curling beneath her front door? The rapid heartbeat of panic pounded ever louder in her ears. Trembles overtook her body. She had to do something! And fast. “Help! Someone help me, I’m stuck!” Maybe with everyone stirring and fleeing the building, someone would hear her. Perhaps if a fireman crawled up the ladder, he’d respond to her pleas.

Pulling on her foot, she screamed and shrieked and sobbed while smoke kept invading her tiny apartment. She could not give up. Could not. “Help me! Help!”

An ax splintered her front door. An insulated tan leg kicked through the wood. “Fire Department! Anyone here?”

“Yes! I’m in the bathroom! I can’t get out!”

Heavy footfalls jarred the floors. “Coming! I’ve got you.” Wide shoulders filled the doorway and stopped. Beneath the fireman’s helmet, his assessing gaze took in her situation before approaching the faucets.

Something about his strut seemed familiar. Who was he? Franny tugged the edges of her damp towel to make sure nothing crucial was exposed.

Crouching, he bit into the index finger of his insulated gloves and tugged them off. His warm hand coiled around her foot and pulled. He spoke into his wireless headset. “I have a woman trapped in her bathtub. Third floor. Second apartment on left. Need pipe cutters and adjustable wrench. Over.”

Crackle sounded. “Copy that. On the way.”

“Well, Frances Benson, you’re gonna have one hell of a story to tell your kids one day.” He stood and stalked into her bedroom, returning with her bedspread.

“Do I know you?”

With rapid movements, he tucked the blanket around her. His fingers stroked her bare skin. “Aaron Brenner. I sat behind you in homeroom all through high school.”

“Aaron?” Her heart rate skipped a beat or two. “My Aaron?”

His head snapped up and dark eyes pinned her, sucking the breath from her lungs.

The heat of a blush stormed across her cheeks. “I…I mean…my good friend, Aaron?” Great going, Franny.

After a few uncomfortable, silent seconds, he went back to cocooning her in the bedspread.

Meanwhile she tried to reconcile that this muscled fireman was once the skinny, long-haired teenager, who played the guitar so well he could take her breath away. For most everyone in high school, he displayed a snarl; yet for her, he was generous with a special smile that set her insides to dancing. She’d been painfully shy and, as her lab partner in chemistry, he forced her to talk and eventually eased her out of her comfort zone. He was the kid who wore a red tuxedo to the senior prom and punched out her date for groping her. This man was that Aaron—the object of her dreams for months after graduation?

Her hand slid under the bedspread to cover her necklace. Years ago, in the crowded hallway filled with eager graduates in caps and gowns, he’d pressed the golden heart necklace into her hand. She didn’t want him to know she still wore it, had always worn it. No doubt he’d think her silly, if he even remembered giving it to her.

“Don’t bother hiding it. A guy doesn’t forget the first piece of jewelry he buys for a girl.”

The heat from her blush intensified and the saliva in her mouth dried. Could this day get any more humiliating? “I’ve always loved it.” Her gaze swept over him. “Where’s your piercings?”

“Uncle Sam frowned on them. First day of basic and they were gone.” He jerked his chin to her empty wine bottle. “I won’t ask why you were drinking alone on Christmas morning.”

Another fireman rushed in, carrying the tools. “Here. Whoa. She naked under the blanket?”

“Keep your mind on track, man.” Aaron scowled and snatched the wrench and pipe cutter from the gawking man’s hands, bent to one knee and began doing whatever guys did with pipes and tools.

Heavy smoke rolled in, burning her throat and making her eyes tear. “Can you get it loose?”

Aaron grunted with the force he applied to the old cast iron connection. Beneath his heavy fire-gear, his shoulder muscles bunched and shifted. “Almost got it.” The spigot and connecting pipe broke free and his hand snaked over the tub’s edge to cradle her heel so it wouldn’t hit the bottom of the tub. His care surprised her. He glanced over his shoulder at the other fireman. “Check the rest of the apartments on this floor while I carry her out.”

“Want me to take her?”

Aaron shoved his hands back into his thick gloves. “No one touches her but me. I asked Santa for a redhead under my tree this year.” His hands slipped under her, effortlessly picking her up. “And I’ve been a very good boy.” She could have sworn he winked at her.
~~~~~~

Come back tomorrow for episode two of "The Fireman's Flame."

SANTA WORE LEATHERS, a Christmas novella ~ http://bit.ly/SantaLeathers

Visit Vonnie at www.vonniedavis.com