Hero Dad. Marta Perry

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      The children, prompted by the teacher, started clapping. Apparently she didn’t have a choice. She set the camera aside and joined him in front of the children.

      “I’ll get you back for this,” she murmured.

      “Promises, promises.” He held out a pair of bulky yellow pants. “Ms. Julie is putting on the pants that will protect her at a fire. We call them bunker pants.”

      Easier said than done. She struggled into the pants, which fit surprisingly well. That meant he’d planned this, bringing an outfit from one of the female firefighters.

      “Next come the boots.”

      She stuffed her feet into the boots, wondering how anyone managed to move in this outfit, let alone fight a fire. Seth fielded several comments from children who wanted him to know that they had boots, too.

      “Now the bunker jacket.” He held the yellow jacket, helping her to slip it on. He snapped the front of it as if she were a child, and then his fingers moved to the collar, tipping it up under her chin.

      He looked at the children. “What else does Ms. Julie need to go to the fire?”

      “The helmet,” they chorused.

      “Right you are.” He settled the helmet on her head gently. His fingers brushed her cheeks as he fastened the chin strap.

      Breathe, she reminded herself. Breathe.

      For an instant she thought he skipped a beat. Then he went on smoothly. “Let’s give Ms. Julie a hand for being such a good sport, okay?”

      The children clapped again, making her ridiculously pleased, and then it was over. The teacher was leading them back to their tables, and Seth picked up the duffel bag.

      He quirked an eyebrow, looking at her. “Need some help getting that off?”

      “I can manage.” She pulled off the helmet and ran her fingers through her hair. “You planned that,” she accused, keeping her voice soft.

      “Hey, I don’t usually have a model when I do this. You can’t blame me for taking advantage of it.”

      “Can’t I?”

      He grinned. “You’re a hard woman, Julie White. Come on, this wasn’t so bad, was it?”

      She helped him stuff the gear back into the duffel bag. “I guess not.” She glanced toward the kids, who were joining the teacher in a song. Davy sang with gusto, his little arms waving in time to the music. “But don’t you think that was scary for children this young?”

      “Maybe so. But it’s better than the alternative.”

      Something grim in his voice brought her gaze back to his face, and what she saw there startled her. The lines of his face had hardened. Only his eyes showed expression, and the emotion they betrayed was pain.

      “You mean—” Her throat closed.

      “We lost two children in an apartment fire the first year I was in the department.” His words were flat, but not for any lack of emotion. If anything, Seth was feeling too much, not too little.

      “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

      Their eyes met, and for an instant she felt as if she saw into his heart. She couldn’t pull her gaze away. She was caught in the moment.

      He shook his head, maybe shaking off the bad memories. “Well, anyway.” He hefted the bag. “Are you getting what you want?”

      For an instant the question confused her. Was she? Then she realized that Seth was talking about the shots.

      “Yes, of course.” She bent to pick up the camera bag, letting the action hide her face. Was she getting what she wanted? She wasn’t sure she knew.

      Chapter Three

      “This is what you meant by taking me through some safety training?”

      Julie watched Seth’s face, hoping for a sign that he was kidding about this. She hadn’t known what to expect when he’d picked her up at her hotel this morning, but it hadn’t been this—a collection of thrown-together buildings on the outskirts of Suffolk, an expanse of asphalt and a hodge-podge of firefighting equipment.

      “I know it doesn’t look like much, but this is the Suffolk Fire Academy.” He gestured at the fenced-in area. “Suffolk’s big enough to have a professional fire department, but funding is always a problem.”

      “So they skimp on the academy?” It looked as much like a junkyard as anything else. She spotted a group of people in coveralls coming down the side of one of the buildings with ropes. Surely Seth didn’t expect her to do that.

      He grinned. “Firefighters don’t expect luxury accommodations. Good thing, because they wouldn’t get them.”

      Her journalistic mind began to kick in. “Surely the training is important enough to spend money on.”

      “Training, yes. Our recruits go through a tough twelve-week program. But there’s never enough money to go around, and they can learn just as well in a Quonset hut as a fancy classroom.”

      One of the people descending the building had lost his or her grip and fallen the last few feet. She held her breath until the person was up again.

      “You’re not planning to have me do that, are you?” She nodded toward the group.

      “Sadly, our insurance wouldn’t cover that.”

      He was probably teasing again, but sometimes she found it difficult to tell. That constant teasing must be part of the firefighter culture. Or the Flanagan culture. They tended to blend.

      “You get to meet another Flanagan.” He nodded toward the man walking toward them, wearing the same blue uniform Seth did. A beautiful yellow Labrador walked at his side. “My brother Gabe.”

      “Hi, bro.” Gabe slapped Seth’s shoulder, and then extended his hand toward her. “You must be Julie. I’m sorry my wife and I couldn’t make it to dinner the other night to meet you.”

      While she murmured pleasantries, Julie compared the two of them. Gabe was leaner than Seth, with lines around his deep blue eyes that suggested he’d seen difficulties and come through them.

      She held out her hand to the dog. “Who is this beautiful creature? I thought fire dogs were Dalmatians.”

      “This is Max.” Gabe fondled the dog’s ears, and the animal pressed against his leg. “Max is my seizure-alert dog.”

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” She stopped, confused. Obviously the private investigator’s report hadn’t included everything.

      “I was injured on duty, and the seizures were an unpleasant aftereffect. So now I spend most of my time training service animals and a couple of days a week training firefighters.” He gestured СКАЧАТЬ