Deep Night (3 page)

“Nah, I'll pass. I'm going to stop at Sonic for a hot dog after our next run.”

She gave him a disgusted look. “Do you know what they make hot dogs out of?”

“Good stuff.” He put his fingers in his ears and hummed before adding, “Don't ruin it for me.”

“I don't know why I bother,” she snorted.

“Ambulance 25, respond to a stabbing at 15th and Curtis. Suspected homeless. Code 10.”

“Roger,” Sara said as she hung up the mic, snapped her salad container closed and switched on the lights and siren. She and Chris exchanged a look. “Hit it.”

The skies were just beginning to lighten when Chris turned the ambulance into the garage. He and Sara worked as a team, giving the vehicle's interior a final once-over before loading their leftover supplies and their narcotics kit on a cart that they rolled to the office. Only the narcotics kit was strictly monitored, and they had to wait until it was cross-referenced with the night's usage report.

“Want to stop for some breakfast?” Chris asked her as they headed to the parking lot once check-in was finished. “I've got a thirty-minute drive to Parker to get home.”

“You're still living with your parents?” she asked. “I'll bet that sucks.”

“I haven't had a chance to find something in town yet. Plus, I have to pay first and last month's rent, plus the deposit. That would cut deep into my college fund.”

She stopped next to her car, but didn't open the door. For a few seconds, she stared down at the ground as if she was working something through in her mind. Finally, she lifted her gaze and smiled. “I have a two-bedroom apartment in a rent-controlled building over by Coors Field. I could use a roommate to split the bills.”

Chris tried to read her expression, but the offer seemed to be genuinely extended. It would sure make his life a lot easier if he didn't have that hour-plus drive every day. Not to mention the fact that at home he was sleeping in his old bunk bed, which his six-foot-two frame had long ago outgrown.

“If you wouldn't mind,” he said. “It would help me out a lot.”

“It's nothing special, but it's close and cheap…relatively speaking.”

“Sounds like my kind of place.”

“You buy your own food, and I'm not your maid or your cook,” she added. “Plus, there's only one bathroom.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

“I just don't want you to have any…false expectations.” She gave him a steady look that told him she was referring to much more than that.

“How about today?”

She seemed surprised, but not opposed to it. “That's fine with me. Sharing the rent will help me. But why the hurry?”

“Other than the drive and the traffic, it's difficult to sleep there during the day with Dad mowing the lawn and Mom vacuuming.”

“It's usually pretty quiet on my end of town.”

“My only concern is that Mom might be upset. I just got home, and I'm not sure how she'll take me leaving so soon.”

“She'll understand.”

“At least she knows you and won't think I'm shacking up with some stranger.”

Sara gave him an odd look, but didn't comment.

He smiled. “I think we have a deal.”

“Is that all the stuff you have?” Sara asked incredulously as she surveyed the pickup truck that had just parked at the curb.

Chris climbed out of the passenger's side and nodded. “I've learned to travel light.”

Rusty, Chris's older brother, got out of the driver's side, walked around and opened the tailgate. “It would have been just three boxes, but Mom added some things.”

Sara peeked in one of the boxes. “Mac and cheese, chili, cereal…”

“There're two boxes of food and another box full of soap, shampoo and towels,” Chris told her.

“Ahh…so, Mama Bird was okay with her baby leaving the nest?” Sara asked.

“Ha!” Rusty snorted. “Are you kidding? She had his stuff packed and sitting by the front door.”

“I heard a far different story this morning,” Sara teased.

“She's probably already turned his room into a craft cave or whatever the hell they call it,” Rusty laughed. “When I moved out several years ago, I had barely loaded the last box in my SUV when they made my room a home gym.”

Chris smiled ruefully. “I thought she'd be upset, but apparently, she and Dad are enjoying life without us around. When I left for boot camp, it was the only home I'd ever known. But when I came home, it felt weird to sleep in my old bedroom.”

“Get over it, baby brother. It's the circle of life…you know,
matumba matada.
”

“It's
hakuna matata,
and that doesn't relate at all,” Chris corrected.

Rusty just waved it off. “You know what I mean. Grab a box and let's get this shit upstairs. Julie wants me to meet her at the bakery so we can pick out a wedding cake, and I've got to drop my buddy's truck off at the station on the way.” Rusty stacked one box on top of another and easily lifted them.

Chris did the same. Sara, not to be outdone, tried to take the last two boxes, but couldn't budge them. “Jeez, what's in here, bricks?”

“Books,” Chris replied. “Here, take these. They're lighter.” He handed the two boxes he was holding to her and picked up the two boxes of books without so much as a grunt.

Even though her boxes weren't as heavy, Sara still had to struggle with them. But she was determined to carry her share of the load. The two guys knew her well enough not to suggest that she take them one at a time.

The building had enough age and character to be registered as a historical landmark. Originally built as the Bergstrom Hotel in 1891, it had been converted to apartments and remodeled in the late 1990s. The investors had kept the original name as well as the classic redbrick exterior with its tall, arched windows, but inside, the apartments and lofts boasted twelve-foot-high ceilings, exposed brick walls and great views of the city and the Rocky Mountains.

There was a small courtyard in the center and, thankfully, an elevator that made the trip to Sara's third-floor apartment easier than three flights of stairs. Two more trips and they had the new double bed frame, mattress set, Chris's old chest of drawers and all the boxes stacked in the small bedroom.

“Go taste your cake. I can take it from here,” Chris said.

Rusty looked around the room. “There's no window.”

“That's a good thing.” Chris shrugged it off. “It'll make it easier to sleep during the day.”

“Not if there's a fire.” Rusty's point of view was always through a firefighter's eyes. “It's against code.”

“I'm sure this old place has some sort of exemption. Besides, I'm just steps away from the front door and right across the living room from the big windows. I'll be fine.”

“I just don't want to have to rescue you.” Chris gave his brother a punch in the shoulder.

“Hey, I've got Sara. She can drag my body out to the ledge.”

Rusty's eyebrows arched skeptically. “Good luck with that.”

“I can drag you across the floor,” Sara challenged. “Lie down and let me show you.”

Rusty laughed and backed toward the front door with his hands raised as if to defend himself. “I take it back. When we were kids, you always beat me at leg wrestling. You had an unfair advantage of being short.”

“Excuses, excuses,” she teased.

“Hey, tell Julie hi for us,” Chris said. “How's she feeling?”

“She's doing great. She had her first sonogram, and we could see the baby's tiny heart beating. He even gave me a little thumbs-up.”

“So it's a boy?” Sara asked.

Rusty shook his head. “We don't know yet. But realistically, there aren't many females in my family, and the sperm determines the sex.”

“God help us all. Another Wilson boy!” Sara pretended to be horrified at the possibility.

“Julie and I really don't care. It's a miracle she got pregnant, so we're pretty happy about it.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “I still can't believe you're going to be a father. I would have bet you'd be the last one of all of us.”

“Yeah, well, no one's more surprised than me,” Rusty admitted. His expression softened. “But when it's right, it's right.”

“Well, go take care of your manly duties.” Chris lifted one of the boxes of food onto the counter.

“Yeah, I get to decide between red velvet, chocolate or vanilla,” Rusty answered. “I really don't care. It's free cake. Hey, you're still coming to the wedding, aren't you? We scheduled it on a Sunday because we're all off that day.”

“It's pretty tricky with all of our shifts,” Chris agreed. That was an understatement. The middle brother, Sam, was a cop who worked the night shift on patrol. Rusty's firefighter schedule caused him to be on twenty-four hours straight, then off for forty-eight, and Chris and Sam worked four ten-hour night shifts and three days off. “Of course we'll be there. I still can't believe you're the first one of us to take the plunge.”

Rusty smiled. “Me neither.” He opened the door.

“Hey, man, thanks for your help.”

“You can pay me back with some babysitting when the time comes.” He gave them a jaunty wave and left.

“I'll help you put your bed together,” Sara offered. “Then I'm going to crash.”

They had gotten off shift at six this morning, and Chris had immediately gone off with Rusty to pick up his bed from the furniture store and his things from their parents' house in Parker, which was a small town about twenty miles south of Denver.

“How's that pizza place on the ground floor? It sure smells good.” Chris nodded toward the large windows in the living room that were open to let in the fresh spring air, but also allowed the fragrance of baking bread and garlic to drift in with the breeze.

“It's great. I eat there a couple of times a week.”

“Maybe we can catch some dinner there tonight. We'll start on Mom's groceries tomorrow.”

Sara nodded, and they worked together with the same level of teamwork that they used on the ambulance to get his bed assembled and the sheets on. Together, they positioned the chest of drawers in the corner.

“I can take it from here,” Chris told her. “Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“You can do anything you want. You're paying half the rent. The only place that's off-limits is my bedroom, and I promise not to come into yours.” Sara picked up the box that was marked
Towels.
“All I ask is that when you're entertaining…keep the noise down and tell them not to walk around naked. I see enough flesh on the job.”

Chris chuckled. “Thanks. But what about you? What kind of noises are going to be coming out of your bedroom?”

For a second, Sara's blue eyes met his; then she turned away as a flush rose to her cheeks. “You're the first man who's been in this apartment since I moved in.”

Chris cocked his head as he considered all the aspects of that answer. “Hey, if you're into chicks…that's cool.” He took the towel box from her.

Sara's head snapped back, but her eyes were sad, haunted. “Sometimes I wish that were true. But no, girls don't do it for me.” She frowned and studied him suspiciously. “What have you heard?”

“Heard?” He was a little unnerved by her directness.

“Look, number one roommate rule…you've got to be honest, and we've got to have each other's back.”

“Technically, that's two rules,” he pointed out.

She speared him with a look that said she was not amused.

His expression grew sober. “You know I always have your back.”

“Then tell me what you heard about me.”

He put the box on the bed and strode toward her, but for every step he moved forward, she moved back, so the distance between them didn't lessen. “Why do you care?”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she brushed them away in annoyance. “I don't…Okay, I do. I just don't want anyone talking about me. I do my job…I don't make waves…I'm just one of the team.”

“It's nothing bad,” he hurried to assure her. “You know how guys are…They wonder why you don't seem to date. I think it's mostly because you ignore their best moves.”

“I would never date someone I work with…too many complications.” She raked her fingers through her short blond hair, leaving it tousled. “Come on. I'll give you a quick tour, then I'm…” Her words were interrupted by a yawn.

He picked up the box again and followed her. “It's six hundred square feet. I think I can find my way around.”

She ignored his teasing grin and led the way out of his room. Waving her arm toward the doorway immediately to their left, she said unnecessarily, “There's the bathroom. Please don't leave your clothes on the floor in there. I cleared out half of the medicine cabinet for you while you were picking up your things in Parker.”

He peered in. It was small, just like every other element of the apartment. A tub with a shower was across the back end. A toilet and a sink were on the right side and two tubular racks were on the left. One held two beige towels, two hand towels, and two washcloths, all neatly folded. The other one was empty. “Mine?”

She nodded. “It's okay to leave your shower stuff and shampoo in the shower. There's a shelf in there.” Without taking a step, she turned and pointed behind her and to the right. “The kitchen. If you eat something, replace it. We can take turns buying groceries or we can keep our food separate.”

He left his box on the closed toilet seat. One more thing to remember. The position of toilet seats hadn't been a big priority in the military or even in his parents' house, where he'd had his own bathroom. “I'm okay with splitting.”

Sara moved forward past a small round dining table and indicated the living room, which had a couch and a chair against the tall windows. Off to the side was a forty-five-inch flat-screen TV. The living, kitchen and dining areas were all one open space that appeared larger than it was because of the twelve-foot-tall ceilings. She stopped in the doorway of her bedroom, which was off to the left side of the living room.

“Rent is twelve hundred and is due on the first of every month, which was last Friday. You pay half, and you can prorate this month,” she told him.

“How did you get this place so cheap?” In spite of its small size, it had charm, modern appliances and a great location.

“It's a rent-controlled building,” Sara reminded him. “My salary, and the fact that I work for the City and County of Denver as a first responder and am a part-time student, qualifies me for a ridiculously low rate. I think they'd like to see me move so they could rent it out for more. But as long as I stay here, they can't increase my rent more than five percent a year.” She yawned again. “So, if you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted.”

“I'll try not to make any noise.”

“Don't worry about that. I have a sound machine, so the sound of the ocean drowns out any of the city noises.” Her full lips spread into a genuine smile. “Welcome to
mi casa.
”

“Thanks.” He spread his arms out and stretched. “All things considered, it's the most personal space I've ever had. It's great not to be living with my parents or in a barracks.”

“I'm glad you like it. See you later.” She shut her door, and he stood there a moment before he returned to the bathroom to claim his shelf.

His mother had packed two brand-new oversized navy-blue towels with matching hand towels and washcloths. There was also a bottle of men's shower soap, a bottle of shampoo and another of conditioner. Chris grinned as he unpacked his mom's care package. It made him think of that summer he had gone to Boy Scout camp. His mother had carefully printed his name on every article of clothing with a Magic Marker, including his towel, his pillow and his sheets, and even carved his name into his bar of soap. He resisted the urge to check the towels to see if she had marked them.

He put his razor, shaving gel, deodorant, toothpaste and toothbrush on his shelf in the medicine cabinet. While he had it open, he couldn't help but notice Sara's personal items, including a white toothbrush, a bottle of Advil and some deodorant. He had never lived with a woman before, other than his mother, of course, but he would have expected a lot more feminine items.

In fact, there was a lack of personal items of any kind in the apartment. There were no photos on the walls or knickknacks on the shelves. Okay, to be fair, there were no extra shelves anywhere. But there wasn't any kind of color except for a bowl of fruit on the counter, which was probably more of a sensible choice than a decorative one. Everything was off-white or beige.

She probably hadn't had time to decorate. She worked long hours and volunteered for almost every extra shift that became available if it didn't interfere with her classes. And then there was school. She was carrying as many hours as she could and still work full-time.

Besides, who was he to criticize her decorating choices? He was a dude, and he was just glad everything wasn't camouflage or khaki…or pink.