Authors: Jennifer Bernard
“Here’s the bottom line, Doug the Slug. If you don’t come forward and confess, no hot girl in San Gabriel will ever look at you again.”
Doug pushed his unruly black hair off his forehead. “Who do you think you are, the Queen of Hot Girls?”
Bridget quite liked the sound of that. She flicked Doug on the shoulder. “Close enough. Not only that, I’ll kick your ass. You know it wouldn’t take much, Doug the Slug.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Oh, that’s just the beginning. I’ll go all mean girl on you. You know I can do it. It’ll be fun.” She rubbed her hands together. “Rumors to spread, YouTube videos to upload, high school secrets to reveal . . .”
Doug shrank back as if she were stabbing a knife into his gut, over and over again. If only. “You’re so full of crap. I’m Douglas Atwell the Third. My dad’ll sue YouTube if you do that. He’ll own YouTube.”
Bridget tucked a strand of hair behind her ear to hide her annoyance. Doug had been a lot easier to manipulate in junior high. “Oh Doug. Always hiding behind your daddy. That’s why you get no respect, why—” Then it came to her. “Dougie, you’re a genius.”
“Huh?”
“You’re the Hair of the Dog arsonist. You could be famous. An outlaw. A rebel.” She lowered her voice to a purr. “If you had any brains at all, you’d milk this for all it’s worth. It could make you a rock star. Breaking the rules. Living on the edge.” Leaning close, she whispered the coup de grâce into his ear. “Of course, not too far on the edge since your dad can always get you off.”
She wheeled around and catwalked out the bar. Ah, the sensation of thirty sets of male eyes staring at her ass. The only flaw in the moment was that she wished Katie could have been there. But her stubborn little sister never wanted her help with anything. And she was too damn loyal to someone who didn’t deserve her.
Katie, I got your back. Like it or not.
W
hen Ryan’s next visitors arrived, he felt like a new man. “Captain Brody! Dani, come give me a hug.”
As the little girl ran into his arms, he thought of Zeke’s description of him as a love bug. Could be worse. Could be a potato bug. He looked up at the tight little family beaming down at him. His heart swelled. Yeah, he loved these guys. If that made him a love bug, he’d live with it. Danielle burrowed her head against his ribs, which didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had the last time she’d hugged him.
“How are you feeling?” Brody asked.
“Better every minute. At first it was hell being here, then it reminded me of the monastery—but with cute nurses. I worked a lot of stuff out in the past few hours.”
Brody raised a black eyebrow. “I’d like to hear about that. Maybe when you get back to the station. You aced the test.”
Ryan nodded. He wasn’t surprised. He was a damn good fireman. Always had been, always would be. If he chose and if his body permitted. “I studied my ass off.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
Ryan guessed the answer, saying it at the same time as Brody.
“Katie told me.”
“Katie told you.”
So, Katie’d been out there fighting his battles while he’d been lazing around being tended to by gorgeous nurses and psychotic doctors.
“What else did she tell you?”
“That I don’t deserve to have you come back.” A smile quivered at the corner of Brody’s mouth.
“She’s what they call a straight talker.”
“Yes, she is.” Brody looked no more put out by Katie’s bluntness than Zeke had.
“Katie’s my friend,” announced Danielle from Ryan’s armpit.
Ryan was trying not to give in to the tickles when he caught the serious look that crossed Brody’s face. The captain scratched at his chin as if debating something.
“What’s going on?” Ryan demanded. “Something’s up. More bad news? Don’t dance around it. If it’s the investigation, let me have it.”
“It’s Katie.”
Ryan’s stomach tightened. Danielle wormed her way from his embrace and ran to her father. Ryan felt suddenly cold in her absence. “What about Katie?”
“She’s called a press conference to announce that she’s the arsonist behind the Hair of the Dog fires,” said Brody. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“That’s crazy! She didn’t do it. Well, she—” He bit back the rest of his sentence, which had to do with the other times Katie had tried to commit arson and failed.
“I know the whole story, Ryan.”
“Katie told you.”
Brody nodded. “She wanted me to know you didn’t do it. I imagine she wants the rest of the world to know too.”
Ryan threw aside his blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed, the left one bundled in a white cast. He sucked in a breath as his broken ribs adjusted to the new arrangement.
“What are you doing?” Brody moved to his side and put a hand on his shoulder.
“I need to get out of here.”
“Right this second?”
He pushed himself to his feet, balancing on one leg. If not for Brody’s steadying hand, he would have fallen.
“Yes. When’s this damn press conference? Excuse me. You didn’t hear that, Danielle.”
But Danielle had discovered
The Little Prince
and was tracing the prince’s spiky hair with her forefinger.
“An hour from now.”
“Is Melissa there? Can you call her and get her to stop Katie?”
“No, Melissa’s on something else. A hot tip from an anonymous source.”
“Then help me up, for Pete’s sake. Brody, can you get me some crutches? There’s a blonde nurse out there who can get some. Tell her they’re for me. And Captain . . .” Ryan barely noticed the amused look in Brody’s eyes as he issued orders to his boss. “Stay close. I have an idea you’re going to love. I worked it all out in my head while I’ve been lying here with my sippy cup.”
Danielle giggled at “sippy cup,” and skipped alongside as Ryan thumped out of the room, ready to take on any medical professional who might try to stop him, with airborne chemicals or otherwise.
T
he Hair of the Dog, or more accurately, the charred wasteland where it had formerly stood, was being invaded. A jumble of grumpy newspeople hauled equipment from vans, staked out their spots, and set up cameras.
If you asked Katie, they might as well be setting up a guillotine. Ella Joy stood near her, patting powder over her perfect foundation. She barely needed a mirror.
“Wow, you’re good,” Katie told her admiringly.
“Thanks.” Ella winked at her. “It’s part of the job, that’s all. I once applied false eyelashes during the E.T. ride at Universal Studios. The part where you fly through the forest? I missed the whole thing because my glue was still drying.”
“Wow.”
“I’m a professional. It’s all part of the presentation. Do you think I wore the right outfit for this press conference?”
Katie surveyed her olive-green pantsuit with emerald-studded lapels. Emerald-ish, that was. “You look good to me.”
“Good isn’t the point. This is a serious story. I can’t look too flashy.” She lowered her voice. “The Hair of the Phoenix has finally run out of second chances. Never again will the Hair of the Dog rise up from the ashes to serve another cocktail.”
From the way Ella Joy held her arm, as if clutching a phantom microphone, Katie knew she was trying out lines for her report.
“What tragic behind-the-scenes drama led to this sad day for San Gabriel, the day a beloved landmark went up in greasy smoke?”
“If it was that beloved,” corrected Katie, “it might still be standing. And it wasn’t greasy.”
“Fine. I’ll cut greasy.” Ella made a note on her reporter’s pad. “When is Ryan getting here?”
“He’s not.”
“What? I thought the Hair of the Dog arsonist was coming forward. If we don’t have an arsonist, we don’t have a story.” She pulled out her cell phone and punched some numbers. Katie snatched the phone out of her hand.
“He is! I mean, it is! The arsonist is coming forward. But it’s not Ryan.”
“Not Ryan.” Ella gave her a long, speculative look. Katie saw an unexpected intelligence at work behind those china-blue eyes. “I always thought it was absurd. I even interviewed that loser who claimed he saw Ryan. Doug something.”
“It wasn’t him either.” Katie almost choked on the lie.
You are responsible
, she reminded herself.
It was your bonehead idea from the beginning
.
“Hm.” Ella looked like she wanted to say more, but her cameraman beckoned her over. “Hold that thought. We have to line up our shot. But I have to say, Doug looked like a weaselly little liar to me.”
Katie worried at her bottom lip as she handed Ella her phone back. She couldn’t argue, really. It hurt to think that the boy she’d loved had grown into a weaselly liar, but he had. And it had taken her a long time to see it.
“You about ready?” The cameraman gestured to Katie. “You’re representing the Hair of the Dog, right?”
“Yes. I’m ready.” She took a deep breath and walked toward the cluster of microphones that had been set up.
“Hang on a minute.” Ella Joy stopped the proceedings with an imperious gesture. The newspeople erupted in grumbles. Katie saw a reporter from another station throw up a hand in disgust.
“We’ve got deadlines, Ella. This isn’t all about you.”
“Oh, put your vibrator on low, would you? This won’t take a second.” Ella spun Katie around and marched her a few feet away from the crowd. Then she plunged her hands into Katie’s hair.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Shhh. You can’t go on TV looking like that. It offends every bone in my perfect body.”
Katie snapped her mouth shut. Quite frankly, she hadn’t even looked in the mirror this morning. She’d been preoccupied with the false confession she was about to deliver on live television. With the whirlwind precision of Edward Scissorhands, Ella jabbed and teased at her hair. A whiff of hairspray followed. It must have magically appeared from a secret pocket somewhere on her body, because Ella wasn’t even carrying a purse.
“Open your mouth,” the anchor commanded.
Katie opened her mouth to tell her where she could put her orders, but before she could say anything, lipstick was being smoothed across her lips.
“I never wear lipstick,” she hissed.
“This is your big moment, missy.”
“My
what
?” How did falsely confessing to arson qualify as a “big moment”?
“People are going to be looking at you, lots of people. And then this might turn up on YouTube. You have no idea how many times this one little news clip will get played, over and over again. I don’t care what you say, you’re wearing lipstick.”
Katie wondered how Bridget and Ella Joy would fare in a cage match. Bridget had been trying to get her to wear lipstick for years. But Ella was making some valid points, she supposed. She might as well look her best while destroying her reputation. And no one else had bothered to think of it.
“As far as outfits go, we’ll have to go with a head and shoulders shot. Where did you get this blouse, a thrift shop?”
“Yes.” Katie got all her clothes at thrift shops, and the black blouse she was wearing happened to be designed by Calvin Klein.
“Well, it’s not bad. Tailored. And I suppose black is appropriate for the sad farewell to a local legend.”
“Thank you,” Katie muttered. “So glad you approve.”
“Just part of the service at the Sunny Side of the News.” One final tweak, then Ella spun her back around and propelled her to the microphones.
Had Marie Antoinette worn lipstick to the guillotine?
Katie marched grimly to the knot of microphones. About ten people waited for her. Three were on-air talent she vaguely recognized. Three others were sheltered behind their cameras. The rest must be random onlookers and passersby. She leaned into the mics.
“Isn’t there anything else going on in San Gabriel today?” She jumped at the whine of feedback.
“It’s July,” said the public access station’s reporter, who looked about twenty. “Ancient Chinese proverb. Nothing ever happens in the news in July.”
A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd.
“Well, thank you all for coming out to hear about the fires that have plagued the Hair of the Dog.” Good God, she sounded like Ella Joy. She shook her head in disgust. “That is to say, I’m here today to set the record straight about the tragic demise of the Hair of the Dog.” She made a face. “Blech. Can I start over?”
“Until the little red lights go on, you can say whatever you want,” said a cameraman.
Ella Joy waved her notebook. “How about this? I’ll ask you questions. All you have to do is answer them.”
A storm of protests rose from the other reporters, but Katie nodded. “That sounds good. I’ll answer your questions.” Who cared about the other reporters? Only Ella Joy had fixed her hair and offered her lipstick. She touched her tongue to her lips, tasting the unfamiliar flavor of expensive makeup. It added to the surreal quality of the whole scene.
This was it. The end of . . . something. The beginning of something else. Her big moment.
She tugged the hem of her blouse down so she didn’t flash any skin on TV. Her heart raced at twice its normal speed. Sweat dripped down her sides. Maybe black wasn’t the best color for standing outside on a scorching summer day in front of a ravenous horde of reporters.
All of a sudden a cameraman put his hand to his ear then lifted one finger. “We’re live in ten . . . nine . . .”
The atmosphere switched from loose to utterly alert. The reporters stood at attention, the camera operators bent to their viewfinders, and Katie felt suddenly very, very alone in her spot in front of the microphones.
And then the little red lights went on. Three of them, leering at her like tiny demons.
“Three . . . two . . .” A pause, then he swept his arm down in a gesture that looked disturbingly like the fall of a guillotine. Katie stood, paralyzed. Ella Joy smoothly stepped into the breach. Her cameraman swung his camera toward her.
“This is Ella Joy here outside what used to be one of San Gabriel’s most-loved watering holes. The Hair of the Dog survived a series of fires over the past couple weeks, only to finally succumb to an arsonist’s torch this past Thursday. With speculation flying over the identity of the firebug, the manager of the Hair of the Dog, Ms. Katie Dane, has decided to come forward with new information that she hopes will put the rumors to rest. Katie, do you know who set the fire that burned down your family’s business?”
The camera swung toward Katie. At least that question was easy. “Yes. I do know.”
“What can you tell the viewers of San Gabriel about this heartbreaking fire?”
Katie took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “First of all, I’d like to say that Ryan Blake had nothing to do with it. He’s been a loyal employee and I’m so, so sorry about everything that’s happened since he started working for us. He is a hero who saved a little girl’s life, and anyone who says otherwise should be ashamed of themselves.”
There. That felt good. Very good. Ryan might still never forgive her, but at least she’d given it her all.
“If Mr. Blake didn’t do it, who did?”
Katie took one frantic look around the crowd. What if Doug finally came through? What if he strode to the microphones, leaned down, and fessed up? She closed her eyes, waited a breath—giving him one last chance—then opened her mouth.
“I have something to say,” someone interrupted from behind her.
Her eyes sprang open. He’d done it! Doug had finally come to his senses! Except the new arrival sounded like Ryan, and when she turned toward him, she saw he looked like Ryan too. All the way down to the white cast on his leg.
Her jaw dropped. “What are you doing here?”
He ignored her and aimed his summery, charming, teasing, devastating smile at the newspeople. “I’m Ryan Blake, and I have an important announcement to make to the city of San Gabriel, something that’s going to make all of you pretty happy, I think.”
A volley of questions bombarded him.
“Ryan, did you set the fire?”
“Are you here to confess?”
“How’s your leg doing?”
“Is your career as a fireman in jeopardy over the recent accusations?”
“How does it feel to be suspected of arson?”
Katie grabbed his hand. She wanted to throw rotten tomatoes at those newspeople. Couldn’t they see Ryan was hurting? Balanced on crutches that seemed to be too short for him, he had to hunch over to speak into the mics. His breathing sounded harsh and she caught a whiff of sweat mixed with hospital disinfectant.
But even so, God, he looked good. A little paler than usual, his cheekbones more prominent, his hair a little shaggier, some stubble showing on his jawbone. It all made him look even more masculine and . . . seductive. She wanted to sigh and rub her cheek against his arm.
But he was probably still angry at her. He’d probably shown up to yell at her on live TV. He was probably only holding her hand to keep from falling over. She squeezed her eyes half shut and braced herself as Ryan spoke into the microphones. He didn’t bother to answer any of the questions the reporters had flung at him. He spoke in an easy, conversational tone that held everyone spellbound.
“As you might know by now, I’m one of the firemen of San Gabriel. I nearly got fired for bein’ kinda reckless, which didn’t do much for my pride. Worst of all, I let down my captain, Captain Brody over there. He trained me, and he trained a bunch of us crazy young kids. San Gabriel is known around California as the place to go if you want to learn things the right way. We have to turn away applicants right and left. Seems like a loss, to us and to anyone who doesn’t want their house to burn down.”
A murmur of laughter sounded among the reporters, as well as the growing throng gathered on the sidewalk.
“So I proposed something to the captain, and he thinks it’s a good idea, if we can get the funding. For that, we need to put up a bond in the next election.”
Breathless silence punctuated his announcement. Ryan took a ragged breath before continuing. Katie gripped his hand tightly and felt his answering squeeze.
“We’re planning to purchase this land from the Dane family. We’re going to build a training center for new recruits. We believe this will become the finest firefighter academy in the country. It’s close to Station 1, which makes the location ideal. Captain Brody will oversee the school and work with as many trainees as possible. And he’ll train other people to help him out.”
“What about you, Ryan?”
He held up his hand. “I’m not done yet. The centerpiece of the academy will be a mentoring program for troubled kids. Young people having a hard time at school or at home, we’ll pair them up with a fireman or a trainee. It doesn’t matter how good you are, if you don’t share what you know. I’ll be in charge of that program.”
Katie drew in a breath of sheer delight. “Ryan, that’s great.”
“Does that mean you won’t be fighting fires anymore?”
Captain Brody, holding Danielle by the hand, strolled to Ryan’s side. Katie felt pathetically grateful to him. He must have seen how tired Ryan was getting. Ryan shifted closer to Katie so she felt the warmth of his body. She put an arm around his waist to help him step away from the mics. His crooked smile shone down on her like sunshine.
“I see some benefits to this whole cripple deal,” whispered Ryan.
“You’re not a cripple,” she hissed fiercely. “Don’t even think that.”
He gave a blue-eyed wink. “I will only if it gets attention from a certain hardheaded bar manager.”
“
Former
bar manager. There’s not much left to manage.” A smile quivered on her lips. It felt so good to be next to him again, to be looking into his summer-sky eyes and sparring with those quick comebacks of his.
“Ryan Blake has returned from his leave of absence,” Captain Brody was saying to the reporters. “I’m delighted he’s chosen to come back, even though we’ll miss him in the field. His main responsibility will lie with the new school.”
“What will it be called?”
“Don’t know yet.”
The public access kid raised his hand. “Do you anticipate any trouble with the bond?”