While Sabina was in the shower, her phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Then another one. And another. Something big was happening. Extracting herself from the shower was no easy feat, and she was swearing by the time she grabbed her phone off the edge of the bathroom sink.
All the texts were from Vader.
Holy fuck. Roman’s out.
He’s ditching the station.
Can’t believe you’re missing this.
Dude can cook.
Sabina didn’t know she could move so fast on crutches, but before she knew it she was out the door, her hair in a wet tumble down her back, and diving into Annabelle’s car.
“Take my car if you need it,” she called to her mother, who stood in the open doorway, her phone forgotten. Two producers wanted her for their next movies, and she had to hire a new agent, fast.
Then Sabina was flooring the accelerator with her good foot, zooming toward San Gabriel Station 1 as if a fire had broken out on the premises. Roman couldn’t leave, not like this, not until she told him the most important thing in the world.
When she reached the station, she swung her way through the side door that opened onto the apparatus bay. She stumped down the corridor, the familiar scent of diesel and varnish and bleach mingling with something absolutely heavenly. Something savory and rosemary-flavored and mouthwatering. Something that could only have been created by Roman.
When she burst into the kitchen, the crew was sitting around the long table. Roman stood at the head, his back to her, his powerful form towering over everyone else. A blur of faces turned in her direction—Vader, looking from her to his cell phone, mystified, as if she’d time-traveled her way here. Stud, a spoon halfway to his astonished face. Double D, in the middle of loosening his belt.
“Roman,” she said loudly. “No. You can’t.”
He swung around. She ate up the sight of him—how long had it been, a couple of weeks? Too long, far too stupidly long. Never let that happen again. His black eyebrows swooped upward in astonishment. “Sabina?”
“You can’t leave San Gabriel,” she repeated, tightening her grip on her crutches. The feel of his eyes on her, that smoldering black gaze, made her wobbly in the legs. “I have to tell you something first.”
The kitchen went utterly quiet. Everyone was looking at her, of course. What else should they look at when a still-wet woman in denim shorts, tank top, and an ankle cast stormed into the room? A drop of water plopped onto the floor, then another. She was dripping all over the firehouse.
Roman waited, a slight frown denting his forehead. He made no move to invite her into his office to discuss this privately. Then again, he had no idea what they were about to discuss. She opened her mouth to suggest retiring to his office, but suddenly . . . it didn’t matter. So what if the whole B shift was watching? She’d had enough of keeping everything hidden. No more wariness. No more arm’s-length. And no more delay—not one single second more.
She squared her shoulders, took a long breath for courage, and laid bare her heart. “Roman, I love you.” There, it was out. Like diving into a cold lake, not so bad after the initial shock. “So you can’t leave. I should have told you before, because it’s been true a really, really long time. But I’m a stubborn idiot. Ask the guys. They’ll tell you.”
But no one said a word. The silence felt excruciating. Another drop of water plinked into the growing puddle at her feet.
“You were right about me, before. And about my mother. But it only took me two weeks to figure it out, unlike my mother, who waited thirteen years, but I’m not going to be like that.” What was she talking about now? She had no idea. Neither did anyone else, judging by the puzzled looks they were exchanging. “The point is, I love you. And you said you loved me before, but maybe you changed your mind after I was such a jerk, and maybe that’s why you’re leaving, but please, don’t . . .” She trailed off because Roman was now striding toward her. He crossed the room in three long steps and swooped her into his arms. Her crutches clattered to the floor.
“No one in the apparatus bay for the next ten minutes,” he growled over his shoulder to the crew.
A chorus of “No, sirs” and “Go get ’ems” followed them down the corridor. Sabina clung to Roman’s broad shoulders, wondering dizzily what she was in for. Was he angry? Overcome with lust? Unwilling to reject her in public? But right now, it felt so good to simply inhale his scent, breathe in the all-male, rosemary-infused aroma of Battalion Chief Ricardo Roman.
He opened the door of Engine 1 and plopped her on the seat, her legs dangling over the edge. Bracing his hands on the vinyl on either side of her, he leaned in so she was completely encompassed by his passionate gaze. “First of all, I’m not leaving San Gabriel. Second, when I say, ‘I love you,’ it doesn’t change overnight. Or in two weeks.”
“It doesn’t? I mean, you do?” A supernova expanded in her heart. She was sure beams of light must be radiating from her chest. “You still do?”
“I still do. Ask me in five years, you’ll get the same answer. And in ten. Twenty. Thirty. I love you, Sabina. For good.”
She gave a breathless hiccup of sheer relieved joy. “I didn’t screw everything up then?”
He smiled, a sheepish, almost boyish expression. “I thought I had.”
“No. No. You didn’t. You couldn’t. But . . .” She grabbed on to the twin iron ridgepoles of his arms. “Vader said you’re leaving.”
“Leaving the station. Yes.”
She shook her head, not getting it.
“I’m leaving the force. I’m not going to be a firefighter anymore.”
“What? But firefighting is your life . . .”
“No. My life is Luke. And you, I hope.”
She drew in a long, astonished breath. “I don’t understand.”
He ran one hand up her arm, raising a trail of goose bumps. “I’m not very good at explaining things like this. After 9/11, after Maureen died, everything went dark. The whole world sort of . . . collapsed in on me. Nothing made sense. All I knew how to do was keep going to work, keep doing the job, keep being there for Luke. Luke was it, the only thing that mattered, the only thing I could see.” He paused, flicked a glance up at her. She waited, breathless. “Luke’s real name is Lucio, which means ‘light.’ It was supposed to be a play on fire.” He shrugged one massive shoulder, glancing around the gleaming engines in the apparatus bay. But Sabina couldn’t drag her gaze away from him, this powerful, beautiful man telling his story.
Roman cleared his throat and forged ahead. “But he was my Lucio, in every way. After 9/11 he was my light in the tunnel. He kept me going through all that darkness. But it was still a tunnel. A bleak, sad, one-step-at-a-time tunnel. Until I met you and the tunnel . . . crumbled away.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, but he wasn’t finished yet.
“And there I was, in the light. With you.”
“Oh, Roman.” Overwhelmed, she cupped her hand around his cheek, feeling his jaw muscles work. He turned his head to drop an infinitely tender kiss into her palm.
“I love you, Sabina. I want to marry you. I want to live with you and look at you and talk to you and be with you and touch you. I’d like to have more children, if you’re interested in that.”
Tears spilled over onto her cheeks.
“But I don’t want to be part of a two-firefighter family again. It works for some people, but not for me. At first I thought I couldn’t bear to love another female firefighter, ever again. I nearly lost my mind when you were under that staircase. But that’s who you are. You’re a firefighter and I fell in love with you and I can’t change any of that. You deserve to keep your career. I know what it means to you.”
“Not as much as—”
“Stop. You don’t have to choose one or the other. I’m choosing. For many good reasons.”
Her voice caught. “Oh, Roman. I love you so much. I’ve been so lost without you. Just . . . empty and awful. I know I’m stubborn and hold people away, but I don’t want to do that anymore. Especially you, because, God, Roman, I love you so, so much. When I thought you were leaving . . . and me on crutches . . . I would have stumped all the way to New York if I had to.”
“Oh, cara.” Then they were kissing, and it felt like no other kiss in the world, impossibly, rapturously glorious. Touching him again, after all that time apart, felt nothing short of miraculous. With Roman, she’d never be alone again, never be one stubborn woman against the world. With Roman, she’d be loved, through and through, and even better, she could open her own heart and let all her piled-up love pour out. She put every last bit of gratitude and passion and sheer, shivery delight into that kiss.
When he finally pulled his mouth from hers, the expression on his face sent a jolt of awareness shivering down her spine. He looked outrageously lustful, as if he’d ravage her right there in Engine 1, although their ten minutes of solo time must be up now.
Which reminded her . . . “If you’re no longer going to be a firefighter, what are you going to do?”
The entire B shift of San Gabriel Fire Station 1 came to the grand opening of Lucio’s Ristorante Autentico Italiano, formerly known as La Piaggia. So did Luke’s baseball team. Carly’s mother brought her; she’d left rehab a few weeks earlier and hadn’t relapsed yet.
Anu and Sabina greeted each customer while Roman turned into a raving lunatic in the kitchen. With all the banging of pots and clanging of knives, there seemed a strong chance of blood being spilled tonight. The kitchen staff was used to Roman, but now that he owned the place, he demanded the kind of instant obedience a fire crew gave him. Sous-chefs, it turned out, were a different story.
Some of the arrivals were confused. “Wasn’t this always an Italian restaurant?”
“Yes, but now it’s a real Italian restaurant,” answered Anu, who had agreed to stay on to help run the place. “Autentico, that means authentic. I can personally vouch for the wonderful creations you are about to experience.” She lowered her voice. “And if you do not like the new dishes, I will secretly heat up some SpaghettiOs for you. I used to do that, you know, when I was feeling particularly lazy,” she confided to Sabina.
“So are you glad your parents sold the restaurant to Roman?”
“Quite, quite glad. They’ve purchased a taco truck but they promise to sell naan as well. Now, tell me. Are you glad you became engaged to Roman?”
Sabina smiled. “Oh yes. Although my mother’s terrified I’ll embarrass her with some grandchildren.”
“Is she here?”
“Yep. Camera crew in tow.” She indicated Annabelle, radiant in a gold lamé dress, on the far side of the room. A cameraman and soundman were at her heels.
“Cameras! Have you broken your policy on privacy then?”
“Call it an engagement present. She’s in the running for a great role and needs a little publicity. Harmony for the Hatfields . . . good story, right?”
“Certainly harmony is quite desirable. But what’s in it for you?”
“Oh Anu. So cynical. I worked it out with Chief Renteria. We agreed that the best use of my newfound, thought-I’d-gotten-rid-of-it, now-it’s-back-again fame is to make a few public service announcements for Big Brothers Big Sisters.”
“How wonderful!”
The arrival of Vader interrupted Anu’s ecstatic clasping of hands. A pretty redhead wearing cat’s-eye glasses and a vintage fifties sweetheart dress hung on his arm. “Two, meet Cherie. Cherie, this is Two, also known as Sabina or Sally Hatfield or Taffy—”
“Call me Sabina,” she interrupted, smiling at Cherie. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into here?”
“With Vader, you mean?” She ran a hand along his bulging biceps. “Oh, I’m just peeling back the layers, right, hon?”
Vader’s brow jutted, his jaw clenched, his pectorals quivered through his muscle shirt. “Layers? You talking about getting laid?” He winked at Anu, who was already backing away, looking slightly horrified.
Sabina and Cherie burst out laughing. “He’s a keeper, Cherie. Just keep him away from Anu.”
Cherie winked from behind her rhinestone-studded glasses. “Let’s get us some wine, honey. Sabina, is that your fiancé, Chief Roman?” Roman was beckoning to her through the diamond-shaped window of the kitchen door.
“Not a chief anymore,” growled Vader.
“Whatever he is, he’s something else,” sighed Cherie.
Sabina agreed wholeheartedly. “And more so every time I set eyes on him. Be right back, you guys. Enjoy the party.”
From behind the swinging kitchen door, Roman watched his beautiful fiancée pick her way through the mob. Even though she no longer needed crutches, she still favored her left ankle. But she did it so gracefully that she could probably set a trend. People would be copying her sexy moves even if they had no injuries. But they couldn’t mimic that vivid glow in her eyes, that naughty promise that made him groan at the thought of everything he’d do to her later that night.
He beckoned her into the kitchen, where Luke was waiting with his proposal. “Luke has an idea he wants to run past you. A fund-raising idea for Amarinda’s rehab bill. Since I’m not with the department anymore, I can’t really give him a yes or no.”
Sabina aimed her bright smile at Luke, who beamed back. All things considered, he’d adjusted pretty well to Sabina’s presence, though Roman made sure he and Luke still did things like batting practice together.
“Sure, what’s up, Luke?”
Before Luke could speak, a knock sounded at the back door. Captain Brody and Ryan Blake stuck their heads in. “Fire department here,” said Brody. “All your fire extinguishers in order?”
Ryan winked. “Nothing personal, but I always feel the need to check before I eat anywhere.”
Roman had heard about Katie’s bar, and the series of mysterious fires that had kept Ryan busy. He beckoned them inside. “What are you so worried about? I heard the Hair of the Dog fires brought you and Katie together.”
“Yep, they helped me break the curse.”
Luke piped up. “You’re both still firefighters, right? San Gabriel firefighters?”
“Yes,” answered Brody. “Why do you ask?”
“Because my baseball team would like to hold a special fund-raising event to help out the mom of one of our teammates, Carly Epps, I mean, her mom’s name is Amarinda and she’s been in rehab. Now she has to pay the bill but we want to help her out because we’re a team, you know?” Luke’s speech came out in a tumbling rush, a little nervous, a little excited.
“Teammates ought to help each other. So we were thinking maybe we could have a bake sale, but not a regular bake sale. We’d make the recipes from your cookbook, Cooking with Heat. And maybe some of you guys could come help out on the bake sale day, and then all the TV stations would come too, and then more people would show up. And it would be good for the fire station too because the bake sale customers might want to buy the cookbook, which would mean more money for the 9/11 fund, which is good too.”
“Kid,” said Ryan, visibly impressed. “That’s some genius thinking.”
“You like it? Can we do it?”
Brody spoke in his measured, authoritative way. “I’d say the firehouse should put it to a vote. But I’m sure they’ll say yes. Sabina, what do you think?”
Sabina’s vivid eyes shimmered mist-green with tears. “I think they’d love it. We’d love it. Count me in. Great idea, Luke. Makes me proud to be a San Gabriel firefighter.”
Roman’s chest swelled with emotion so intense, it hurt. How could one man feel so proud and happy? He put his arm around Sabina and she slid into his embrace like a fish into water. Exactly where she belonged. By his side, forevermore.
Luke ran off to tell the team the good news.
Still riding that wave of emotion, Roman scowled at Brody and Ryan. “While you’re both here, I’d like to put this curse rumor to rest for good. Look at me. I was a poor, lonely, single guy until I came to San Gabriel. That’s when I got my woman.”
“Your woman?” Sabina squirmed under his arm, but he tightened his grip; she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Yes, but didn’t you have to quit to get her?” said Ryan.
Sabina spluttered. “Excuse me, I’m right here. I have a name and it’s not ‘her.’ ”
“We’re just making the point that Roman was no longer with the San Gabriel Fire Station when he sealed the deal with you. In fact, he had just announced his resignation when you barged in and told everyone you loved him.”
Roman smiled broadly. Best moment of his life.
“But I was still a firefighter,” Sabina pointed out. “I didn’t have to quit to get my man.” She poked him in the ribs with her elbow.
“True,” said Ryan.
“A helluva firefighter,” agreed Brody.
“The best active-duty firefighter in the Roman-Jones family.” Roman felt another poke in the ribs, followed by a warm hand nestling into his.
Then Brody spoke, slowly. “But hang on a second. You weren’t on active duty then, Sabina. You had a broken ankle.” They all looked at one another.
“It’s spooky, you gotta admit,” said Ryan.
But then the two waitresses rushed in with the first orders. Roman gave Sabina a long, hard kiss on the lips—for luck, and because he loved her with all his heart. Then he sent everyone out of the kitchen so he could concentrate on making Lucio’s the spectacular success it deserved to be.
As he filled a plate with veal piccata, he kept thinking about the “curse.” Did it really matter if it was real? Then he remembered his father’s advice to never ignore a curse.
Why tempt fate?
“Constancia Sidwell and Virgil Rush,” he muttered. “Sorry it didn’t work out for you two.”
The sous-chef gave him a suspicious look over his sauté pan of veal reduction.
“But Sabina’s stuck with me. You’ll just have to go curse someone else. And you might want to go a little easier on the next guy. Then again . . .” He filled a plate with penne al’arrabiata. “Do whatever you have to do. It was all worth it.”