Rescue and Redemption: Park City Firefighter Romance by Daniel Banner

Author:Daniel Banner [Banner, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

JFK stuck two fingers under his collar and sucked in a breath. Even though it was January in Park City, he was sweating worse than he did in his turnout gear during the last fire he’d been in. He’d rather make entry into a 500 degree basement again than go into the torture chamber where Mercy was dragging him. He stared up at the building in front of his parked truck. A few people in dresses and ties and stuff hurried in.

From the passenger seat of his truck, Mercy said, “You’re kidding me that you’ve never been to church, right?”

“I’m as serious as a boy named Sue,” he told her, not cracking a smile in the slightest. The collar grew even tighter and JFK had to undo the top button and loosen his tie. “If I go in there I’m pretty sure the roof is going to come down and crush me.”

Mercy smiled. “I’m sorry, but I think that’s so cute. You look like a boy about to ask a girl out for the first time.”

Cute. That was perfect. On top of being nervous enough to ring water out of his armpits, he was cute. He really liked Mercy. Probably even enough to go into the church. If he’d had more time to prepare, JFK would have tried to set up a special training session with Dom on church manners, but she’d sprung it on him too quickly and he was likely to fall on his face as hard as he had at the awards ceremony.

“C’mon, tough guy,” she told him. “I’ll hold your hand.”

That sounded nice. Maybe even worth it. Grudgingly he pushed his door open, relishing the cold breeze on his overheating face. As usual, Mercy gave him time to make it around the truck to get her door. He offered a hand and averted his eyes even though that felt strange because if she somehow took a tumble out of the truck, JFK would have no way to know she was falling until it was too late. With manners, it often seemed that the least intuitive thing was what he should do. Once Mercy was down on solid ground, she kept a hold of his hand.

JFK loved the feel of her fingers entwined with his, but was self-conscious of his fat, clumsy hands when hers were so lithe and confident. But he wasn’t about to let go, especially when he needed her support so badly. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous.

The church appeared to be Type 4 construction—heavy timber. Sometimes timbers were just used as ornamentation to make lightweight construction appear more solid or aesthetically pleasing. Before walking under the large covered entryway, JFK paused. It looked sturdy enough, even with a foot or two of snow piled on it. Only an act of God would bring it down on top on them, which was exactly what JFK feared. He wasn’t the church-going type or even the type who God would even want hanging around in his house.

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