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I stared at the words etched into the sand. The incoming tide had washed away the top half of the letters, but what remained was annoyingly familiar.
ne night i aarkes Detore lne aawn
I mentally added some lines and loops. It might read: the night is darkest before the dawn. I knew the quote, from ‘Batman, The Dark Knight’, and it suited my mood. My life was pretty fucking dark at the moment.
The sea nudged at the writing and blurred it even more. I drew in a tight breath and resumed my pace, stomping my feet on the damp sand as though I could drive out my demons by force alone.
Unbidden, an image of Hal popped up in my head. He loved the Batman series and we spent hours dissecting the character, to the amusement of Lisa. His wife didn’t share the love of comic book heroes. “I have my own hero right here,” she said. From the minute she met Hal she was smitten. Everybody loved Hal. God, I missed the guy.
I increased my pace, running until my lungs burned and my hamstrings protested. The early morning sun was hotter than I’d expected. Sweat pooled on my forehead and trickled down my back. My hangover had almost gone though, the vodka leached out through my pores, and I knew I’d be fine after a shower.
Today was my first day in the Peka Peka Fire Station. It wasn’t what I was used to by any means. I was a city boy and this quiet backwater was as alien as if I’d been dumped on another planet. People didn’t even bother locking their cars, and said ‘hello’ and ‘lovely day’ to every passer-by. It drove me insane. Give me the anonymity of the city any day. The drive down from Auckland had taken me almost ten hours, and I was sick of the unrelenting emptiness long before I arrived.
Six months. Would I survive?
I slowed to a walk, my breathing ragged. The only good thing about moving here was the beach. I could run for miles every day without seeing anyone.
I approached the little beachside cottage that would be my home for the next few weeks. Top of my to-do-list had to be finding a longer-term rental, and I’d start the search later, or maybe tomorrow. Getting through today would be hard enough. I’d want nothing more than to sink into a chilled bottle of vodka after my first shift. Hitting the online ads could definitely wait.
I might even see if this place could be negotiated for a longer term. It was small, and bright inside, with long windows facing the sea. I liked the clean, simplicity of it. It held no memories.
*
Half an hour later, driving the short distance to the fire station, I saw a sign for Havana Blend coffee. My favourite. A tiny bakery sat back from the road, a handful of tables and chairs outside in the sunshine. It was busy, judging by the people that spilled out of the door. But I had time. And really, if I were ten minutes late on my first day, nobody would say anything. My new Chief Fire Officer, Tim Morgan, had impressed the need to ease in gently. How long that would last was anybody’s guess.
I didn’t need or want his pity. I just wanted to keep my head down, get through the next six months, and then get back to Auckland.
I took my place in line, idly watching the staff as they scurried back and forth. The music playing over the sound system was familiar, and like the words on the beach, I recognised the track. It was nineties Trip-Hop, but was it Massive Attack or Portishead? It took me right back to a little nightclub I’d spent too many hours in, during my University days. I reached the head of the line, and the heavily tattooed brunette gave me a brief smile.
“Morcheeba.” I snapped my fingers as the penny dropped, and the song fell into place in my head. “Big Calm.”
The girl laughed. “You’re the first person to recognize it. The new girl won the draw for which playlist we used.”
“Large flat white, please.” I held out my debit card to be swiped. “It’s forever since I heard this. She’s got good taste in music.”
“Good with the Gaggia machine too.” The girl scribbled my order on a sticky note and added it to the waiting orders lined up on the counter. “It won’t be long.” She stared at my shirt, her eyes sharpening. “You must be the new guy at the fire station. How are you liking it here?”
Hate it. Hate the quiet. Hate kicking my heels while my buddies in the city are busy. Hate being made to serve here until the fuss dies down. “Love it,” I managed. Where was my caffeine when I needed it?
“Where were you before?” The girl leaned on the counter, her generous cleavage on display. I risked a quick glance before meeting her gaze.
“Auckland City Central.”
“Must be a change of pace for you.” She pulled at a strand of her dark hair, and twisted it around her finger. “Steph just moved here too.” She nodded at the blonde behind the coffee machine. “If you’d like someone to show you around, give me a shout.”
While we spoke, drinks were made and handed over to the waiting patrons, and my order was prepared. “Dean,” said the blonde, and then she looked up from her work. Bright blue eyes widened at the sight of me. “Here’s your drink.” She thrust the paper cup in my direction, and then turned her attention to the list of sticky notes.
Something about her pinged at my memory. Just like the Morcheeba track, I’d also come across Steph somewhere before. I never forgot a face. A drunken one-night stand perhaps? There’d been a few of those. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Colour flushed her cheeks, but before I could say anything else, my phone rang.
I dug into my pocket and answered it without checking the caller ID. “Dean Logan.”
“Dude.” It was Laurence, one of my old watch mates. “You’ll never believe it. Dickless has been signed off for a month with stress.”
“You’re fuckin’ kidding me?”
“Wish I was. We just hope he doesn’t come back.” An alarm rang in the background, and my friend made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Gotta go.” He disconnected.
Stress? That fucker didn’t know the meaning of the word. I swung away, heading for the fresh air outside. I needed space. If anyone was responsible for Hal’s death, it was Richard Dickless Goodwin. If I could play God, reverse the situation, and pick which man lived and which died, I’d choose Hal to survive every time. No question.
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If you want to read Steph’s story, you need to buy Her Fiery Fix, the next in series.
Her Fiery Fix (Love at the Beach #4)
He’s setting fire to my heart
I’m detoxing my life. No drink, drugs or messing around with guys who use me. I don’t need Dean, a bossy-but-sexy firefighter to take an interest in me. He saved me once before, and when he figures out where he knows me from, I guarantee he won't be able to get away from me fast enough.
One night turns into two, and I still want more. His take-command attitude in the bedroom is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced, and every time he says "good girl" I want to wrap myself in the praise, even when he's got me doing the dirtiest things.
We’re scorching between the sheets, but it’s my heart that’s going to get burned, and I don’t know how I’ll survive.
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