All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)(27)

They’d married two months later, much to the shock of her business manager and all her friends. But she’d never regretted the impulsive decision. They’d loved each other until the day he died. There had been other men in her life and in her bed. Before him and after he’d died. But no one else had ever touched her heart.

“He looks happy,” Justice said, returning the picture to her.

She took it and placed it on the dresser. “He was. He had me and Chantal. He loved us both.” Dominique had struggled with that, she remembered, wanting to be the center of her husband’s universe. How he’d devoted himself to his daughter. Sometimes she’d been jealous. Foolishly, maybe. Wrong, perhaps. But true.

She offered another picture. This one of a three-year-old Chantal in a tutu. Even then she’d been too tall and far too awkward. She’d wanted to play with trucks instead of dolls and she had no patience or talent for any kind of dance.

“I wanted a daughter like myself. A dancer. Someone I could nurture and mold. What’s that old saying? If you want God to laugh, make plans?”

Justice gave her back that picture.

“No advice?” she asked.

“Not in the job description.”

“Were you a spy, Justice?”

“Nothing that exciting.”

“I’m not sure I believe you. Do you think I’m attractive?”

Nothing about his expression changed. “Ma’am?”

She smiled briefly. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to seduce you. I used to be beautiful. A sheik once offered me a million dollars for a night with him. Just like that movie from years ago. It was before I met my husband, so I said yes.” The smile returned and broadened as she remembered. “The next morning he sent me home with the million dollars and a diamond necklace. He wanted to marry me, of course. So many of them did.”

She sighed, knowing the memories would be with her tonight. Sometimes they were just like her former suitors. Insistent. Determined.

“Well, Justice Garrett, I will see you in the morning. You have your room key?”

He touched his jacket pocket. “You never answered the question.”

“Why I hired you?” She shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? With you around, I get to pretend that I still matter. That I’m still famous. That I have significance. None of which is true.”

He looked at her for several seconds, then murmured, “Good night,” and left.

When the door had closed behind him, Dominique picked up the picture of Dan and stared at his familiar face. “I would give it all up to have you back,” she whispered. “You know that, don’t you?”

Tears filled her eyes. As there was no one to impress, she let them fall. Smudged makeup didn’t matter these days.

She pressed the picture to her chest and let the truth wash over her. She was alone. She had been for years, but she’d never allowed herself to see it. Being in that hospital room, waiting to find out if she was going to live or die, had brought that painful reality home. As she’d waited, she’d vowed that if she survived, things would be different.

Chantal was the only family she had left. Dominique refused to lose her. She was here to be a part of her daughter’s life—however much Chantal might resist.

* * *

“PICK IT UP, people,” Charlie yelled. “I’ll make this a timed drill if I have to.”

As she watched, the ten volunteer candidates finished running around the track. With the opening of Josh Golden’s cycling school, she’d been offered a new place for her candidates to work out. As long as she didn’t schedule training during cycling sessions, Josh had given her access to both the indoor and outdoor track, the weight room and an unfinished area she planned to use for various drills involving hoses and other pieces of equipment. She was a happy camper.

Now she waited until the last of the women ran up to join the group. Charlie blew on her whistle, the signal for everyone to race toward the large truck tires she’d had delivered. The concept was simple. Drag the heavy tires from one end of the field to the other. After running two miles.

She’d already wrapped ropes around the tires and provided gloves. But nothing helped the fact that the tires weighed about a hundred and twenty pounds. Each.

But instead of racing as instructed, two of the women smiled at Clay. One even flipped her hair. Charlie snorted in disgust. Sure Clay was the most fit person on the field, but he was a major distraction. Still, she would give him credit for ignoring their preening and grabbing the ropes of his tire. In a matter of seconds, he was dragging it across the field at a brisk pace.

The other two guys in the group did their best to keep up with him. Two of the women were only a few yards behind, but the other four were seriously struggling.

Charlie walked over. “What’s the problem, ladies?”

The tallest of the women, the blonde, looked at her. “This tire is too heavy. Can’t we do something else?”

It was the same with every class, she thought, having been at this long enough not to even be surprised. She let the question hang there a couple more seconds, giving herself time to get her mad on. Then she gave the woman the same smile she suspected bears used right before they snatched up unsuspecting salmon.

“There is a belief among many firefighters that women don’t belong. Do you know why that is?” She paused.