Burning Love

Riley Dawson

“I don't think you're understanding, ma’am. I didn't lock him in there out of stupidity, I think I know better than to lock my dog in my car. He locked himself in there all by himself, went on his paws to look at me through the window, and accidentally hit the lock button before I could open the back door.” I gave as much detail as I could because I didn’t want to waste time answering her questions. I had already given her the address to where I was currently parked, but time was of the essence.

I was on the phone with a dispatcher while looking at my father's dog inside of my car wagging his tail at me. The car was off and the heat was rising inside quickly, and I was very aware of how little time we had. It was hot here in California, and I was panicking more and more by the second.

“We are sending firefighters now they should be there in ten minutes. Just hold tight, Riley.” Oh no. I couldn’t wait a few more minutes, let alone ten.

This is Los Angeles, a few minutes could be hours for a non-emergent case like this. I needed my dog out now—it’s early May, meaning the summer heat was already here. It was heat wave central from now until October. I can’t even sit in my car while I turn it on, the heat is suffocating for me, and I don’t have fur.

I do what my dad has always taught me not to do while on the phone with dispatchers and I hang up.

My anxiety was flying through the roof.

God. How did we get ourselves into this situation?

I look around and see the building next door to the dog daycare place is under construction.

And then I have an idea.

I looked at the miniature poodle that I rescued eight years ago. He is this beautiful tan color, and his eyes were very distinct, a reddish brown that glowed in the sunlight the same way red dirt on Mars did.

“The things I’ll do for you, Marley.”

He didn’t seem to be panicking, his tail was wagging very excitedly. He thought this was a game.

I run to the construction site and see a man in a hard hat. “Hey, you can’t be here,” he says to me as soon as I make myself known to him.

He’s a big burly guy. Reminds me of all the cops I grew up with who were my dads friends. Having grown up with my dad being my only parent most of my life, cops and firefighters became my closest family.

“Do you think I can just borrow your hammer quickly?” I ask.

I'm sure that to him, I just sound like a complete crazy person. I sound crazy to myself. Was I really about to break my window for my dad's dog? Yes, I was.

"Why do you need it?" he asks, his tone immediately wary. It was a reasonable reaction. After all, this was Los Angeles. Who was I to walk onto his construction site and demand a hammer without explanation? He couldn't be sure I wasn't planning to use it as a weapon against someone, or even against him.

I explain the situation to him and he just hands me the hammer without saying another word to me.

“I’ll bring it right back.”

I run out and there’s now a man looking inside my car, and I can’t see his face from where I’m coming from.

He's probably judging me without knowing the situation. He's trying to get the attention of Marley, maybe trying to see if he is alert.

“Excuse me!” I yell as I raise my hand to hit my back window with the hammer.

Safety glass.

It wouldn’t make a mess, so it wouldn’t hurt Marley, plus he was standing in the driver's seat. The glass was replaceable. My dad's dog was not.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He yells as he sees me coming from the reflection of my car window.

The man turns around and grabs my arm, snatching the hammer out of my hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? That’s my dog in there! It’s my car!” I start yelling at him out of frustration.

“I’m a firefighter,” he says calmly. “I have something in my car to unlock the door.”

I didn’t like how calm he was talking to me. My dad talked to me in the same tone my whole life. It was a tactic they used on civilians to keep them calm and rational because agitation was something they actively wanted to avoid.

“I don’t have the time to wait. He’s been in there for too long.” He wasn’t reacting to me. I know they’re trained not to. My dad was a firefighter for many years and he told me almost all the trade secrets.

“You need to calm down. Have you tried every door just in case he only locked one door?” I roll my eyes and nod.

“I’m not an idiot. I checked them all.” He nods, hopefully agreeing that he knew I wasn’t an idiot.

“Did you try the trunk?” I freeze and sink into myself.

“I didn’t think about that.” He gives me a look, but says nothing, and tries the latch.

The hood immediately pops open. I kind of half expect him to say something to me about it, but he doesn’t. He reaches in and pushes my middle seat down. It’s quite narrow as it is the middle seat and my car is a tiny Honda.

“You’re smaller than me. You can climb in and open the door from the inside,” he says as he stands back up. I look down at my outfit. Not the best day to wear a dress. “Come on, I promise not to look.” He was trying to be funny. Definitely not the time, and honestly don’t think it’s appropriate in general.

I get into my trunk and it’s not until I’m halfway through the hole that I realize that this was a complete stranger. I didn’t know him and I was just trusting him. My dad taught me better than that, and he would be shaking his head at me if he knew I was in such a compromised position.

My dad's dog is just staring at me as I climb into the backseat, his tongue is out, and is just breathing heavy. It’s really hot in here, so I open the door to let in the fresh air my car currently lacked.

Marley immediately jumps out. “Marley, stay!” I yelled as I grabbed my keys. I didn’t need to double check and see if he listened to me. I knew he did. My dad’s friend worked with police dogs, and trained Marley to act as obedient as one, he would even attack on command—for emergencies of course.

I come out of the car to see two things. Marley is sat down by the door patiently waiting and the fire department was now here.

The man who helped me is talking to them. He laughs at something one of them says before the firemen get back into the firetruck and drive away. I think I recognized a few of the guys, but they didn’t stay long enough for me to see and confirm. It looked like my dad’s old fire station.

When he turns around, he smiles at Marley and comes over to pet his head. I half expected Marley to react, but he didn’t which was surprising to me. Marley wasn’t aggressive, but he was sometimes wary around new people. “Your dog is very well trained.”

“It’s my dad’s dog, he trained him very well…anyway, thank you for helping me. You probably saved me a big bill for having to replace my window that I was so ready to destroy.” He chuckles.

He then hands me back the hammer he confiscated from me. “You might want to return that to whoever rightfully owns that.” I grab it, look at it for a moment before looking back at him and inspecting the man that helped me.

The last few minutes have been a blur and stressful. It is in this moment, that I realize how attractive this man is. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. I could see his muscles being outlined by the white shirt. He had short sandy blonde hair. And his eyes. They were so dark and intense.

“Do you work for the same engine house that just came?” I ask after realizing I haven’t talked in a good minute, we’ve just been staring at each other in silence. Knowing my face, I was probably giving him my resting bitch face that Hanna swears I have and deters anyone from talking to me.

“Yes. I heard the dispatch on my way into work, and I knew I was closer and how time sensitive this was.” I bite my lip. “What’s your name? I’m Grant Rawlings.”

I want to give him my name, but decide against it. I’ve dated those in public service before, my dad was a firefighter, and I knew better than to put myself in that situation, especially right now when I could only be focused on one serviceman. “Thank you, again, Grant.” I look at my dad’s dog. “Come on, Marley.” He follows me straight to the dog daycare.

I turn back and look at the guy for a quick moment. He’s just smirking at me as he gets into his car.

Grant Rawlings, I repeat in my head.

I can’t say I’m not tempted.