Soaring (Magdalene #2)(104)

And regardless of how clean and neat it all was, it was very much their world, their space, and although they’d all been welcoming, I got the sense that they were on their best behavior because of me and it would be better that they were free to let loose and do and say what they pleased.

Farewells were exchanged and Mickey took my hand and walked me downstairs.

We were at one of the two opened bays to the house when he gave my hand a tug to stop me.

I turned into him and pulled our hands free so I could put both mine to his chest. In return, Mickey curved an arm around me.

“You need a new microwave,” I announced and he let out a deep chuckle.

But he didn’t say anything.

“And a TV,” I went on. “And it’s shocking you have a kitchen that’s surely a fire hazard situated in a firehouse.”

His eyes were still amused when he replied, “We make do, Amy.”

“I would be of the opinion that men volunteering to put their lives on the line should expect more than making do.”

He didn’t lose any amusement but I could still see a hint of serious seep into his eyes when he said, “Okay, you don’t got a dick so you’re just gonna have to go with me on this when I say it’s okay for my girlfriend to make the guys brownies. It is not,” his arm gave me a squeeze, “okay for you to buy us a TV.”

That was precisely what I intended to do (plus a microwave) but I read the seriousness in his eyes and decided not to push that partly because I didn’t have a dick, he was right. He did, it was a very good one and he knew how to use it.

But mostly because he’d called me his girlfriend and I liked that a lot.

I didn’t want to appear eager and scary by sharing that fact with him so I asked, “Does the town give you any money?”

“Bobby’d lose his mind and the boys would not show up if our rig and gear was not all it needed to be. They keep us equipped that way, Amy. We’re guys. We don’t need a lot more.”

“Not even a better TV?” I queried incredulously.

“Gotta admit,” he mumbled, lips twitching. “That TV sucks.”

“Even when Archie Bunker was watching it, it sucked,” I mumbled back and he chuckled again. “Do you do any fundraising?”

He nodded. “Every year ’round Christmas, the wives and some wealthy broads in town throw a Fire and Policemen’s Ball, and ’round Valentine’s Day all the guys in the county step up for a Firefighter and Police Officer Bachelor Auction. But what we make on that goes into a pot to divvy out in case something happens in the line of duty.”

I ignored the “line of duty” business and asked, “Bachelor auction?”

He grinned and replied, “Things keep goin’ the way they are, this year, I won’t participate.”

This year?

I ignored that too and stated, “Oh yes you will. I’m loaded. I could go the distance to beat any woman who thought she could get her hooks in you for a dinner.”

His grin got bigger as his body started shaking. “Then next year, I’m first to sign up.”

I leaned closer, enjoying his humor and that I gave it to him. I still felt it important enough to push.

If gently.

“So, seeing as I’m not properly equipped to get it, but I still get it, and a direct donation from me is out, would it be unacceptable if a certain someone leaned on some local businesses that sell electronics to get them to donate a new microwave and TV? These efforts being anonymous, of course.”

His eyes warmed and his arm squeezed. “You wanna put the effort into that, knock yourself out. This keeps goin’ where it’s goin’ and you meet some of the other wives and girlfriends and wanna arrange somethin’ like you did for the junior boxing league so the guys got it better when we’re hangin’ around waitin’ for a call, that wouldn’t be a problem either.”

So I could get someone else to donate or raise money. But Mickey Donovan’s wealthy new girlfriend was not going to become the Magdalene Fire Department’s patron.

Understood.

I let that go and asked, “Do women invade the sanctity of the firehouse very often?”

“Yeah, considerin’ we got one in the company.”

This surprised me. Not that firefighters couldn’t be women, just that what I saw appeared to be a man’s domain.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She’s tough. She’s good. Been with us four years. Name’s Misty.”

A firefighter named Misty was incongruous and humorous for several reasons.

I did not smile.

I mumbled, “Misty the firefighter.”

Mickey gave me one of his easy grins. “Yeah. She took a lotta shit about that girlie name while she was a recruit.”

“There aren’t a lot of women named Butch,” I pointed out and got another chuckle. “Was she okay with that?” I asked.

“She didn’t have a choice,” he answered. “You take it or you get the f*ck out. She gets sensitive and pissy about gettin’ shit about her name, no way she has it in her to aim a hose at a wall of flame.”

I didn’t like the sound of that last part but I didn’t let on and instead queried, “So, how about wives and girlfriends?”

“It happens. They show. Necessarily, this is a family. You’re part of the family, you’re welcome.” He bent his neck to put his face close to mine. “But everyone knows, the men and their women, our woman and her man, there’s an unwritten rule. Dinner’s okay. Occasionally. Droppin’ in to drop shit off or have a chat, that too. The boys may look laidback but they gotta do that bein’ prepared. So we keep distractions at a minimum.”