The Fireman Who Loved Me by Jennifer Bernard Read Free Book Online

wet T-shirt contest. You spend your weekends tinkering with your car, or watching the Pimp My Ride marathon. If you were married, you’d leave your wife home to do the dishes while you go hunting with your buddies. God forbid you should ever have to change a diaper or vacuum a floor. And the worst part is, you have willing young girls falling all over themselves, bidding hundreds of dollars to be the next Mrs. Fire Captain and have little fire babies.” She paused for a breath, then turned beet-red as her words echoed between them.
    “At least they’d be taken care of if I died,” pointed out Brody. He ought to be offended. But he was too busy watching the way her hair tumbled around her head. He wondered if it felt as silky as it looked.
    “I apologize if I was rude,” she said, nose in the air.
    “Not at all.”
    “So you don’t deny I’m right?”
    “Why should I, when you seem so convinced that you are?”
    Now those emerald sparks were firing again. “You could at least try to defend yourself.”
    “Are we in a battle? I thought this was a date.”
    “You . . .” She gave a squeak of pure frustration. “Don’t you ever get rattled?”
    “It’s part of my job to not get rattled.”
    “But you’re not on the job right now. Don’t you want to argue with me? Mix it up? Play a little racquetball?”
    “Oh, later I’ll probably grab some of my buddies, hit the nearest bar, and beat someone up. You know how us firemen like a good throw down.”
    “See that? You’ll fight with your buddies, but not with a mere woman. Typical male arrogance.”
    Okay, now she was starting to get under his skin. “You really want me to fight with you?”
    His men would have recognized the dangerous look in his eyes, but Melissa stuck out her chin in that stubborn way of hers.
    “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
    “Okay. Let’s see, the news.” His voice was quiet enough not to be overheard, but forceful enough to get his point across. “You stick microphones in people’s faces at their worst moments, but you make sure your lipstick is perfect first. If someone’s crying, you get that camera nice and close so you can catch every moment. The first thing you want to know about a man, after what he makes, is what car he drives. BMWs or Porsches are best, but you might condescend to date a man with an Audi, if you were really desperate. You get your nails done once a week, a facial every other week, you don’t mind spending five hundred dollars on a pair of shoes you wear twice. And once you have yourself a man, he’d better make sure to keep the cash flowing, because if it stops . . . you’re off to the next provider.”
    He snapped his mouth shut. Where had that last part come from? But he knew the answer to that; he was describing his ex-wife.
    Of course, Melissa had no way of knowing that. “That is completely unfair. You just repeated every cliché ever invented about the news business.”
    “And you’re obviously completely objective when it comes to firemen.”
    “I’m a newsperson, we’re paid to be objective.”
    “Then you might want to think about giving the money back, because—”
    “Excuse me, mister.”
    “ What? ” He swung around and found himself staring down a willowy, gray-haired lady. She took a startled step back. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t mean to speak so forcefully. What is it?”
    “The other dancers and I would . . . Well, you’re causing quite a commotion.”
    Brody looked around and saw the dance floor had cleared in a wide circle around them. The music had trailed off. Melissa tugged at his arm, her face bright pink.
    “We’ll leave immediately,” she said. “We’re extremely sorry.”
    “Very, very sorry,” he repeated after her.
    During the ride back to her house, Melissa stewed next to him.
    “One thing’s for sure,” she said. “We are not compatible, not one bit.”
    Brody didn’t argue, although he’d been having a good time