My Wild Irish Dragon (2 page)

As the chief's door closed, Ryan thought that maybe he should do a little background checking too. Just in case they missed something on the blonde.

* * *

“How did it go?” Ryan's mother asked at the dinner table that night. “Do we have another firefighter in the family?”

His father laughed. “Of course we do! There's no way they could turn down our brightest son.” He turned toward his wife and beamed. “It's a good thing the rest of them aren't here. Don't tell them I said he was the brightest.”

“Of course I won't,” she said. “All of our sons have their own strengths and talents, and we love them all equally.”

“So, which one are you again?” his father asked jokingly.

Ryan felt his face heat. He tried to hide it by shoveling an extra-large bite of spaghetti into his mouth.

His mother folded her hands. “So, when do you start, dear?”

He shrugged and chewed slowly.

His father eyed him. “Something's not right. What aren't you telling us?”

They waited silently, until he couldn't pretend to chew anymore and swallowed.

“Uh, there are background checks to finish and I guess some financial stuff has come up. The chief said to be patient.”

His father leaned back in his chair at the head of the table. “Ah. That's just a formality. You've never been in any trouble with the law. You're a U.S. citizen…”

As his father droned on about the reasons an applicant could be denied, Ryan had a brainstorm. The blonde had an accent. Granted, it was faint, but he'd heard it. And the way she'd butchered American slang… She wasn't from the USA. With any luck, she'd turn out to be an illegal alien.

“So, how many applicants did you beat out?” Mr. Fierro was asking.

Shit.
Lying wouldn't do any good. The chief was his father's oldest friend and the blonde would come up in conversation at some point.

“I only saw one other…
person
when I went for the interview. There were about a dozen names on the roster, taking the CPAT, but we didn't all go on the same day. They said I broke the record that day, so I took that as a good sign.”

His father looked at him askance. “You didn't do anything that would tip them off about our paranormal abilities, did you?”

Ryan stiffened his back, offended. “Of course not. I ran the course completely as a human. How can you think I'd do anything else?”

His father nodded slowly. “Just checking.”

“You've always been so competitive,” his mother added. “I don't blame your father for asking, even though we believe you know better.”

As always, she was playing the diplomat. Still, it was time to change the subject.

“So, what's new with you, Mother? Have you beautified the city lately—other than with your lovely face?”

His father rolled his eyes, but his mother gave him a loving grin and giggled.

“How sweet of you to ask. Yes, as a matter of fact, the gardening club found this barren traffic island in Mattapan near the T station. We thought we'd plant some daffodils there.”

“Waste of time, if you ask me,” his father grumped. “Nobody's gonna take care of them.”

Gabriella Fierro laid her gentle hand on his arm. “That's why we decided on bulbs. They come with their own food supply and as long as they receive a little rain, they'll bloom easily year after year. They even multiply on their own.”

“Yeah, like the rats,” Antonio Fierro muttered.

“We can't all be lucky enough to live in the charming South End,” she said and patted his arm. “In fact, this very street wasn't always beautiful.”

His father nodded.

Ryan had heard that the neighborhood was once pretty run down, but it had gone through an urban renewal when his grandparents lived there. Other areas of the city were going through even more drastic revivals. Places that had been nearly slums were sporting brand-new high-rises with incredible views and even higher prices.

No one else in his family cared about the ocean views, maybe because they'd relocated from the Southwest. But Ryan loved boating and fishing. One day he hoped to be able to afford an apartment in one of the new waterfront buildings. Living with his parents was the only way he'd be able to save that kind of money.

“So, getting back to the job…” his father began.

Crap.
Apparently the change of subject hadn't helped much.

“You said you saw one other candidate who made it as far as the second interview. Was it anyone we know?”

He sighed. “No. It was some woman I've never seen before.” A woman hot enough to light his own personal fire.

His father's bushy brows rose. “A female? Ordinarily I'd say you have nothing to worry about, but with only one female firefighter in the whole city—well, you know how it looks.”

His mother tilted her head. “No, dear. How does it look?”

He growled though his teeth. “Don't get all feminist with me, Gabriella. You know darn well a woman can't physically equal a man, but if it looks like the department might be accused of bias… If certain groups obsessed with equality find out another female firefighter candidate is applying, it could unfairly disqualify our son.”

His mother batted her eyelashes. “Oh dear. I wonder if Gloria Steinem has heard about this yet.”

“Mom. Dad. Don't worry about it. Seriously. I've got this.”

His father's frown said it all. “You'd better.”

Ryan and Chloe eyed each other as they paced the hall outside the chief's office.

Ryan spoke first. “I never expected to see you again.”

She halted and jammed her hands on her hips. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Easy, Chloe.
Her sister Shannon's only advice when Chloe had told her about this guy was, “Ignore his shenanigans. A quarrel is like buttermilk. Once it's out of the churn, the more you shake it, the more sour it grows.” Shannon might be right, but this guy pushed her buttons and it was hard not to react.

“I just meant when I got the call to come in and see Chief O'Brian, I thought it was to fill out paperwork and firm up a starting date for training.”

She took a deep breath and tried to relax. “I thought that as well.”

He strolled up to her and looked down, looming over her, as if he wanted to express dominance. “I hear an accent. Where are you from?”

Feckers. He'd better not think he has an advantage by being born a man in the USA.
Chloe had spent the last year not only working hard with her brother to bring his brownstone back to its former elegance, but she'd also been watching and listening to the electricians and plumbers with Boston accents. When she wasn't doing anything physical, she watched HGTV and YouTube videos, trying to adopt American expressions.

She decided to fight fire with fire. Facing the haughty man, she said, “Where are
you
from? You have an accent too.”

He leaned back and laughed. “Nice try, sweetheart. I was born right here in Boston. Now, you never answered my question. Where are you from?”

“I may not have been born here, but I love my adopted country. I worked hard to become a citizen.” That much was true. She'd studied her heart out and passed the citizenship exam without getting one wrong answer. Her apartment managers, Sly and Morgaine, had dropped by and given her pop quizzes. They enjoyed helping fellow paranormals and had even created a clubhouse in one of the vacant apartments just for them. That was one of Chloe's main reasons for staying in Boston instead of returning to her lonely existence in rural Ireland.

He shrugged. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “I don't even know your name.”

“And I don't know yours.” So far she had refrained from pointing out that she wasn't his
sweetheart
, but it might be less irksome if he used her real name. She sighed and extended her hand. “I'm Chloe Arish.”

“Ah! I knew it. You're Irish. Your last name even says so.”

He hadn't clasped her hand yet, but she kept it extended. “It's pronounced
Ah
-rish. Spelled with an A, not an I. And you are?”

“Ryan Fierro.” He finally clasped her hand in a firm, almost punishing, handshake.

She smiled. He'd have to squeeze a lot harder to make a dragon wince.

At last Chief O'Brian's door opened. “Come in,” he said.

They glanced at each other, hesitating.

“Both of you,” the chief added.

Ryan gestured with a sweep of his hand. “Ladies first.”

Ignore, ignore, ignore,
Chloe told herself. She smiled and strode in, taking a seat on one of the hard plastic chairs in front of the chief's desk. Apparently he didn't want anyone to get too comfortable, leading to extended visits. That was fine with her.

Ryan followed and took the other seat, adopting a relaxed pose.

When the chief was finally seated in the only comfortable chair, he folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward.

“This was a difficult decision. On one hand, Ryan is well-known to us and his test scores were excellent.”

Shite. He has the job.

“On the other hand, Chloe's scores were equally good, and in the spirit of equality—”

Ryan groaned and rolled his eyes.

The chief stopped mid-speech and glared at him. Chloe's hope resurfaced. Even if she got the job based on her gender, she'd take it without hesitation.

“If you'll let me finish…”

“I apologize,” Ryan said quickly. “Please continue.”

Chief O'Brian took a deep breath and said, “I had to go to the commissioner and beg for extra funding. I pointed out that the Back Bay not only houses a wealthy population with high expectations, but our area includes the Boston Marathon's finish line, historical landmarks, plus lots of dorms and fraternities with careless students who think nothing of drinking and lighting cigarettes or candles. Anyway, I got the funding. We're taking you both.”

Chloe let out a whoop and grinned. Meanwhile Ryan's eyes rounded and his mouth hung open.

I guess that was quite unexpected.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “You won't be sorry.”

“I'd better not be,” the chief stated bluntly.

* * *

“It looks like we'll be working together, so…” Chloe said.

Ryan was tempted to say, “so what?” but he had to tread carefully. This chick was a threat. If one of them had to be transferred to another house, it would probably be him.

Chloe was replacing the only female firefighter in Back Bay. The previous one had gotten a promotion after an inferno in which two firefighters were lost. Because she had sifted through the debris until she found the wedding ring that one of the widows desperately wanted, she was considered a hero. Many thought only a woman would have persisted until she found the sentimental item.

Her promotion transferred her to another station where not only was an officer needed, but a hero to boost morale—or in this case, a heroine.

Ryan had a brother, uncle, or cousin in almost every firehouse in Boston, and he'd rather not be a probie in front of one of his family members. Every misstep would be reported at Sunday dinner or summer barbecues, and his family's skills were legendary. He didn't want to let them down.

He desperately wanted to be the hero in
his
station. And he was better suited than most. His family were phoenixes. They could take risks their mortal brotherhood couldn't. None of them would die in a fire—at least not permanently. It was also the reason his mother was so easygoing about her husband and all of her sons being firefighters.

He glanced over at the deceptively strong female walking down the corridor beside him. He hadn't spoken for a while, but he had no idea what to say. She glanced back at him. Finally she broke the silence.

“Is that a problem?”

Huh?
Had she said something he was supposed to answer? “Is what a problem?”

“That we're to be working together?”

He frowned. “Why would it be?”

“I'm well aware that as a woman I may have to prove myself to the other firefighters.” She smirked. “I wouldn't want to show you up.”

He halted. When she realized he was no longer in step, she spun around to face him.

He folded his arms. “What makes you think you're going to show me up? Ah. I get it. You're insecure about being a woman and might overcompensate.”

Her posture stiffened. “I am not.”

He mirrored her earlier smirk. “I could understand it if you are, but relax. The guys in District 4 are used to having a female firefighter around.”

Chloe matched his confident posture. “I hope you don't think I plan to take it easy or expect special treatment.”

Oh no. She has a chip on her shoulder. Someone probably told her she doesn't have what it takes and she's out to prove him wrong.
He assumed it was a guy. Probably a father or boyfriend who didn't want her in danger. And who would? She was perfect—when she wasn't being a little too feisty.

“Look. No one will expect you to be a hero—especially as a probie. So you can tell your husband or father to relax.”

She tipped her head and studied him quizzically. “I have no husband or father.”

“Are you saying there's no one to worry about you?” It sounded as if she were alone in the world.
Why do I care?
He was surprised at his own reaction, but maybe he shouldn't have been. Being protective was a natural tendency for him. Even as a kid, he'd stood up to bullies if he saw anyone being picked on. And during his tour in Afghanistan, he'd stuck his neck out for a fellow soldier more than once.

“I have siblings, but they don't worry about me because they know I can take care of meself. I—I mean, myself.”

So she lapses into her accent when she's upset. A good thing to know.
Ryan mentally filed that away along with other clues to this puzzling, fascinating woman.

It had been a year since Melanie had broken his heart. Everyone told him it was time to get back out there and find another girl. Only he didn't want a girl. He wanted a woman. Someone who had a life and goals of her own. This woman seemed to fit his wish list. She was strong and independent—and he could barely keep his libido under control when he was around her.

Suddenly it occurred to him that starting a relationship with her would probably mean a transfer. Hmmm… If only he could be sure
she
would be the one to go elsewhere. Not only did he want to make his family proud without hearing about his learning curve, but he wanted to do it at this particular firehouse—his father's former firehouse. Better yet, maybe they could keep dating on the down-low and he could continue to see her pretty face often.

But no matter what happened between them personally, she'd better not try to show him up on the job. He'd hate to accidentally show his supernatural side. He suspected that would put the kibosh on any kind of relationship. Especially a personal one. And that would be a damn shame since she was the first woman to tempt him in a long time.

* * *

Chloe had to admit—to herself only—that on the first day of academy training, she
might
be a bit nervous. Not just because it was something new and different, or
God forbid
there was any aspect of this job she couldn't do, but because she had to keep her strength believable and yet top-notch. It would be a bit of a balancing act.

Another balancing act would to be to resist the magnetic effect Ryan had on her. Their rivalry helped keep him at a distance, but she was afraid that gap was closing.

She'd noticed a few guys sitting in the back row of the small classroom, so she sat up front. Hopefully it would show she was anxious to learn.

The training took place on Moon Island in Boston Harbor. Probably a good, safe place to set fires. If the wind blew a spark, it would land in the ocean surrounding them. But Chloe remembered the old wooden bridge she drove over to get to the island. What if that went up in flames?

As if the thought of being stranded with Ryan had conjured the man himself, he strode into the room and seated himself right next to her. She glanced over at him, about to wish him a good morning, when he winked at her.
Argh.
So much for burying the ax…unless it was in his chauvinistic head.

“Rolling your eyes at me already?” he whispered. “I thought maybe we'd just gotten off on the wrong foot and could be friends from now on.”

She heaved a sigh. There hadn't been any indication that he wanted her friendship. In fact, she'd have bet against it.

“We have eight weeks of firefighter training. More if you still need EMT certification.” He reached out his hand as if he expected her to shake it. “I'd like to extend an olive branch,” he said. “How about if I take you out for coffee after this?”

She tentatively clasped his hand. “I don't drink coffee, but thank you for the offer.” This time he didn't squeeze the hell out of her hand as he shook it, so she supposed he might really be attempting to establish a friendship.

“What do you drink?”

Before she had a chance to say Guinness or tea, he chuckled. “I bet I know. You probably go for those health food juices. Wheatgrass and stuff.”

She was about to deny it, but then a small, evil thought crossed her mind.
It might be fun to watch him drink a big frothy mug of grass.
“I like to stay healthy. Don't you?”

After a brief hesitation he said, “Of course. I know a place on Boylston Street where we can get something very healthy.”

“Awesome,” she said, mimicking an American expression that seemed to be popular.

“Wicked awesome,” he said and grinned.

Just as she realized he might misconstrue this as a date, their instructor walked in. Best keep that question to herself until they could speak privately again. She didn't know the fire department's policy on dating coworkers, but she knew her own. She didn't date. Period. Why ask for heartbreak when she already knew her destiny? Like it or not, she would remain alone.

The instructor leaned against his desk and folded his arms. “I've been waiting for two more. Unfortunately they're late. I can't stand people being late and this isn't a good start for them. I'd rather not make the rest of you work overtime, though.” He pushed off of his desk and began to pace. “I'm going to start without them.”

Just then the door opened and two more guys rushed in. “Sorry,” one of them mumbled. “We missed the exit off 93.”

“You commuted together?” the trainer asked. “And
both
of you missed the exit?”

“Yeah. I guess we were talking about the job,” the other one said. “We're friends who decided to do this together. You know…mutual support and everything.”

“From now on you can use the carpool lane and get here early.”

It looked like their instructor was a hard-ass. That suited Chloe just fine.
Bring it on
.

“Camaraderie is fine as long as the job comes first. Each one of you will need to develop a trusting relationship with your fellow firefighters. But more importantly, you'll need to follow orders from your superiors—without question.”