“Watch it,” Ian growled. “Jennings is ready to rip off your”—he paused with a quick glance at Daisy—“face.”
She ducked her head to hide her amusement. Hovering behind her, Chris made a wordless sound confirming Ian’s warning.
Junior didn’t seem too concerned, judging by the wink he gave her as he wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around her upper arm. He did keep his comments to himself while he took her vitals, although that might have been his professionalism kicking in.
“Everything’s within normal range,” he told her as he unclipped the oximeter from her finger. “I’m assuming you don’t want to visit the hospital?” When she shook her head, he continued, “Medical’s outside, so I can have the paramedics come in and check you out, if you want.”
“Won’t they just check the same things?” she asked.
He grinned at her. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“They don’t need to come in, then. I’m fine.”
“Daisy…” Chris said in his I-know-better-than-you tone, and she turned her head to give him her best no-you-don’t glare.
“I’m fine,” she said firmly. “Thank you, Junior.”
“Anytime.” As he put his equipment away, his eyes roamed the room. “Although if you really want to show your gratitude, you could let me use your gym once in a while.”
“Of course.” She frowned. “Although we might have to start a new training group, since it’s already a pretty tight fit with eight people.”
“Eight?”
“Yes.” She ticked each person off on her fingers as she named them. “Me, Chris, Ian, Rory, Lou, Callum, George, and Ellie.”
Junior whipped around to scowl at Ian. “You’ve been working out here with a bunch of hot chicks and haven’t invited any of the rest of us? Way to hold out on your fire brothers, Beauty.”
“Thanks, Daisy,” Ian groaned. “Now we’ll never keep him out of here. There’s a gym at Station One, Junior.”
“Yeah, with crappy equipment and zero hot chicks. I want to come here.”
“We could have firefighter training days,” Daisy suggested, twisting to look at Chris. “They could just come and use the equipment, so you wouldn’t have to give up more of your time to coach.”
“Nuh-uh.” Junior shook his head. “I want the coed training time.”
“Don’t make me have to smack you again.” Ian raised a hand, but he grabbed the back of Junior’s coat instead of hitting him that time. “Get your bag. Let’s go.”
“You okay, Daisy?” Rory’s voice brought everyone’s attention to the doorway where she stood.
When she saw the other woman, Daisy felt her earlier guilt resurface. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Rory took a few steps into the room. Her bunker gear was obviously new, almost painfully clean compared to the guys’ soot-darkened coats and pants.
“For beating up Ian and almost getting him blown up,” she admitted in a rush, swallowing back the tears that wanted to break free.
“You beat up Beauty?” Junior asked, his glee obvious.
At the same time, Ian protested, “You didn’t beat me up.”
Ignoring both men, Daisy focused on Rory. “I’m sorry. When he tried to make me go outside, I panicked. I didn’t think he’d stay in here with me.”
“Tell us about the beat down,” Junior urged, “in very specific detail. Did you make Ian cry like a tiny baby?”
Daisy didn’t even glance at him, too worried about Rory hating her for endangering her soon-to-be fiancé. Well, soon-to-be fiancé if Ian didn’t screw it up by burying the engagement ring in shredded meat slathered with barbeque sauce. Corralling her straying brain, she watched Rory’s face for any hint of loathing.
“His hero complex isn’t your fault,” Rory said, sending a quick smile in Ian’s direction. “He’d never leave someone in danger. That’s just who he is.”
“If I would’ve just let him carry me outside instead of doing that knee strike…” Even just saying the words made sweat dampen her palms.
“It worked out, Dais.” Chris had been standing quietly behind her, but now he wrapped an arm around her upper chest in a backward hug. “Everyone’s okay, and you can work on getting out of the house in your own time.”
“You need to make some changes, though,” Ian said, crossing the room to stand next to Rory. “If you can’t leave, you need to make this house as safe as possible. A sprinkler system would be a good start.”
“Oh!” Rory’s normally grave face lit with enthusiasm. “A panic room. Fireproof, explosion-proof, with a separate ventilation system, so you’d be safe from smoke inhalation or gas leaks. It’d also protect you during a home invasion.”
“Or a zombie attack,” Ian teased, giving her an affectionate bump with his shoulder. Even though she rolled her eyes, Rory couldn’t hide the smile that was trying to break free.