Ellie groaned. It wouldn’t do to arrive back at the fire house way behind the others. She headed down the road in the pickup, while trying not to think about the likelihood that the men were talking about her. Was it her fault she was the one carrying the highest rank of all the firefighters who had showed up to work the scene today? Several of the crew were volunteers, others worked fulltime in rotating shifts, but the two other captains were off to North Conway in New Hampshire for a week of rescue training.
Fighting not to chew her bottom lip—a habit Sean always teased her about—she concentrated on not following too close behind the fire engine. Even though there hadn’t been a lick of snow in weeks, dark nights fell quickly in December. Last night’s rain had turned to sleet by morning.
Although the sun had warmed the road surfaces earlier, the temperature had dropped several degrees while they fought the barn fire. As she drove the oversize pickup truck, it felt like the sleet had refrozen on the narrow road. The slickness of the bumpy pavement under her tires had her squirming in the driver’s seat each time the truck lost traction. Her dad always drove the huge truck. Up ahead, the big red fire engine rounded a corner in the dim light of twilight, at the same time as a small silver car headed for its front bumper.
***
Bradley Aaron Wainwright wondered why he had not taken his administrative assistant’s suggestion to make use of a limo and its driver. Driving was not a skill he regularly practiced, but his plan meant keeping any and all distractions at a reasonable distance. He wanted to make a difference, somehow. Sitting in his ivory tower in Manhattan, shuttered from the life going on below, was no longer palatable.
That was one reason why he had booked a flight to Montreal. He arranged to meet a beautiful head-hunter at the hotel in a day or two. Their meeting could change his life, and he hoped they would find time to enjoy the many other benefits of the hotel, such as a massage or a relaxing quarter of an hour in a hot tub. Together.
His life as his company’s CEO was a privilege. His father had drilled that into him every day…at least on the days he managed to make an appearance at home, while Bradley was growing up. The man lived at the office, it seemed. His entertainment consisted of board meetings, skiing trips to Montreal, and weekends spent in the Hamptons playing golf with cronies. He did anything to network, even before networking was a thing.
Time with family was always on the back burner and watching his mother wither away from his father’s lack of attention made him promise himself he would be different. He would find a way to balance work and a satisfying home life. He had been less than successful to date, which was why a wealthy thirty-four-year-old businessman was lonely, so he had planned on a winter adventure. Shivering, he turned the heater control of his silver luxury rental car up higher.
Maybe I should have flown to Hawaii.
He was not afraid of flying, even though his father died when his plane crashed into the ocean just off the coast of Long Island. The ever-popular businessman was returning from one of his jaunts. His mother passed away a month later. He would like to believe she died from a broken heart, but he doubted love had anything to do with it. Love was a fantasy and a lie that men used to get women into bed. Women used it, as well, to try to convince men that a woman was what their lives needed to be complete. All the women he had dated wanted the fun that only money could buy.
My money.
“Hah!” All he needed was a little peace, and a night or two with a redheaded woman in his bed. When he insisted on flying commercial to Montreal, his assistant had glared at him as if he had lost his mind, which was her prerogative. Sixty-year-old Mona Ashwell was smart as a whip and had worked for his father for twenty years. He saw no need to replace her, especially with the way she watched out for the other employees. She made sure to leave him a note when one of his executives was ill, or engaged, or acting less than worthy of a position at Wainwright Industries.
He promised to carry his cell phone and to check in every so often. That seemed to quiet her down. It was close enough to the Christmas holiday that few transactions were deemed necessary to complete. After the New Year would be time enough, he supposed.
Until then, he was headed to Montreal. Canada would be perfect. The city was perfect. Sleek, though not too modern. Amenities at a five-star hotel in the city would give him the chance to kick back and relax. He could not wait to visit the spa, get a massage, or walk through their underground shopping centers. Enjoying a meal with a beautiful, intelligent woman in a fabulous restaurant would refresh him.
What did they say about the best-laid plans? With a heavy winter storm closing Montreal’s Pierre Elliott Trudeau airport, he had deplaned in Boston, deciding to start his adventure a little early, by driving the approximately seven hours north.
The car rental agency clerk assured him the roads were clear all the way through Vermont to the Canadian border. Why not cruise through the country in the silver luxury model, listen to the radio, and think about the relaxation and sexy redhead that awaited him at the hotel? She had not confirmed that she was able to make their rendezvous, but he could hope. What if he got there and found himself all alone? Even if she could not meet him in person, he would go out of his way to enjoy himself. The storm might derail her travel plans, but so what?
Has it really been years since I’ve taken the time to enjoy my own company?
Pressure from work seemed somehow wrong. Yes, it was nice to know he had millions to his name, and a huge corporation carrying his last name. His penthouse condominium was state of the art, and he always had a limo and its driver at his beck and call, but he wanted to do this himself.
He did not think Mona appreciated his change of plans, ergo the offer to find him a limo and a driver to get him from Boston to Montreal. She did not approve of his renting a car, and would worry until he checked into the hotel. She watched his gold card transactions via her smart phone, assuming someone would steal him blind at some point in time.
That nearly happened with his ex-fiancée. Lucky for him, Mona had done a background check on her without his knowledge. He would have reprimanded her, except that everything turned out for the best. Nearly marrying a corporate spy, out to ruin his company before leaving him at the altar, was an experience he had narrowly escaped.
A few days away from the office suited him just fine. He doubted Mona would disturb him. He had told her in no uncertain terms not to call him unless the Manhattan skyscraper that housed Wainwright Industries was on fire. She had shaken her head, but promised not to act like a mother hen, unless he neglected to check in at least every few days. He could live with that.
His grin, which he knew Mona would not appreciate, suddenly turned into open-mouthed alarm, when the red and chrome grill of a massive truck headed for his windshield.
Whipping the steering wheel to the right, he realized the road was as slick as a skating rink. Although he had not seen a single snowflake since leaving Boston, he had obviously missed the black ice. Spinning around, he slid off the road to the left, and headed down a muddy hillside, bumping and sliding down the incline. A wet, icy pond, straight ahead, grew closer.
“Stop!” Yelling at the car, while pressing the brake pedal through the floor didn’t help. At least the fire engine that had come around a corner at break-neck speed had not slammed his car into pieces of crumpled metal. The car bounced and slid faster, and he raised his hands above him, trying to hold on while not letting his head pound against the ceiling.
Splash!
Bradley’s rental car came to a sudden stop. The airbag deployed, slamming him in the nose. As it deflated, its powdery contents made him sneeze. Blood trickled down his chin, but a bleeding nose was not his most immediate problem. The hood and front bumper of the car sat in a slushy pond.
Although anger at the fools who forced him off the road made him grit his teeth, getting out and onto solid ground was imperative. Drowning beneath the thin layer of ice in the middle of Vermont was not in th
is week’s playbook. He groaned the moment he realized he now had no car. His anticipated arrival in Montreal was going to be delayed once more.
Maybe the car is an easy fix.
He could hope. In the meantime, he grabbed his overnight satchel, which held his laptop and a change of underwear and socks. If he needed other clothes, he would buy them in Montreal. If he decided to spend his days and nights in bed, he had no need for clothes.
He should have placed the folder of paper files in a zippered pouch. Mona surprised him as he left for the airport, and insisted that he look them over whenever he found a spare minute. He unlocked the doors, turned off the ignition, but could do nothing to silence the blaring horn. He forced open the driver’s door, the metal-wrenching sound adding to the noise. Muttering a curse, he stepped from the car into ankle-deep mud. Grabbing the door frame was not an option since he had foolishly filled his hands with the satchel and the papers. He fought to regain his balance while several ear-burning curses escaped.
Chapter 2
Expelling a breath she hadn’t realized she held, Ellie parked the pickup and clicked the switch to make the red bubble and flashers swirl. The fire engine slid to a stop a little farther down the narrow, curvy road, and she was pleased they had the forethought to display their emergency lights, as well.
She prayed the driver of the car was uninjured. Even if he was fine, she’d have a stack of paperwork to fill out concerning this wreck. On top of her dad’s accident, she was going to be up all night filling out reports, when she would rather be checking on her dad’s condition over at the hospital.
Jumping down from the pickup’s high seat, she followed the car’s tracks down the muddy hill to check on the passengers, since she was the only medically trained Emergency Medical Technician on scene. The other men waited for instructions up top, although two had already run to take up posts at each end of the road. Stopping other traffic would give them time to assess the accident, rescue any patients, and clear the road. The squawk of a radio told her that the fire engine’s driver was already relaying their position and notifying the police.
She hated to involve the police with this, but if the car’s occupants planned to claim that the fire department caused the accident, it was better to get the eyewitness reports and disastrous road conditions corroborated by the police department.
Will I ever get to see how Dad is doing?
The list of tasks needing her attention just doubled. A shower would be nice, too. She didn’t think she was all that filthy, but the smell of smoke from the barn fire lingered like a halo around her head. She predicted the muddy slope would soon add to her disheveled appearance.
As she stepped gingerly along the hillside, she reached out and grabbed the branch tips of spruce saplings. She took a deep breath of air scented with Christmas trees, trying to ignore her soot-covered bunker gear. A moment later, her booted feet slipped out from under her. Her arms flailed in the air, praying for something to hang on to. Regaining her balance proved impossible, and she slammed into the muddy ground. As she lay flat on her back, only a groan escaped her lips.
“Are you hurt, Chief?” Andy yelled down to her.
“Just my pride,” she answered. Sitting upright, she rolled her shoulders still encased in her heavy fire coat. The cold slowly seeped through her trousers, but she was still dry. Rolling to her side, she pushed up off the muddy ground to stand upright. “That’s better.”
I spoke too soon.
Her feet slipped out from underneath her, again. Sliding backward on her rear down the rain-soaked grass was surreal. At a slick spot, she managed to turn feet-first toward the car, but couldn’t stop. At the same time, the car’s driver stepped out of the wrecked vehicle and into her path.
“Watch out!” she cried.
Too late.
***
Bradley had heard about moments like this, when time slowed down. In slow motion, a mud-covered woman slid on her rear-end toward him. Cornered against the car’s open door, he could not move out of her way in time. His leather satchel went flying and landed in the woman’s lap. Shock filled her face, while she yelled something unintelligible to him as she slammed into him and the door.
His folder of papers flew up and over his head, landing somewhere behind him. Turning back with rage at the foolish person, a splash of cold, muddy water drenched the front of his suit. He grabbed the edge of the car’s door to keep from falling on top of the oddly dressed woman.
“I saved it,” she cried as she slid to a stop, wedged beneath the open door and his feet.
Her cheeks were streaked with mud, although he could see soft skin reddened and windblown, where the mud had not reached. Her clothes seemed too bulky for her thin frame. Was she wearing bunker gear? If she was one of the firefighters driving recklessly, she would need to do more than save his laptop and extra underwear from a watery grave to make amends.
Leaning down, he grabbed the bag from her grasp with one hand, and wiped splotches of mud from his no-longer-pristine clothing with the other. The mud was cold as ice and had already soaked through to his skin.
She held on to the door’s lower edge and glanced up at him. While holding on tight, her other hand wiped one cheek, managing to smear the mud further. Her brown eyes sparkled with a mix of embarrassment and amusement, while her smile made him nearly forget what had happened.
His glasses were askew, but it was the blood dripping onto the ground beside her that immediately changed the woman’s expression from companionable joy to worry.
“You’re injured. You really should stay put. We have an ambulance coming, so—”
“I do not require an ambulance, Miss…” He waited impatiently for her to answer. He might be upset and thoroughly inconvenienced, but he was still a gentleman.
“Oh, right,” she said. She scrambled to her feet, then reached out to the roof over the rear passenger door next to him, to stay upright. She was on her feet, but still unsteady on the slippery slope. She reached out and grabbed his arm with a very muddy hand, making more of a mess of his only jacket. A slight breeze tossed her thick brown hair over her left eye. The chocolate right eye glanced straight at him, and her full lips curved into a luminescent smile.
His chest constricted as if she had slugged him. Who would think that a beautiful woman hiding beneath bulky clothes and a countrified mud bath, would appear today? He cleared his throat, willing his suddenly aroused body to behave.
“My name is Bradley Aaron Wainwright.”
“Elinor Danville. Acting fire chief.”
“Enough pleasantries. All I want is to get off this damn hill, get into some clean, dry clothes, and continue my journey.” He tore the glasses off his bruised nose and stuffed them in an inside pocket of his suit jacket.
“Right. Oh dear.”
Turning to see what had grabbed her attention, the papers Mona had given him floated on the surface of the pond. Unreachable. “Well, I did not wish to read them, anyway.”
Beside him, she giggled.
“Everything okay down there, Chief?”
He glanced up at the men standing at the top of the slope. One tall redheaded firefighter holding his shoulder, called her Chief with some respect. Several others ignored her.
“Am I to understand you are in charge of that vehicle? The one that nearly killed me?”
Her cheeks colored prettily as she nodded, and a frown tore at his heart. A sudden urge to make her smile again slammed his gut. There was something about this back-country woman that made him itch to learn more.
The sound of squealing brakes made him cringe. They both glanced back up to the roadway. A large tractor trailer slid to a stop near the firefighters, and voices mingled with waving hands.
“Another accident?” he asked.
“No, that’s Greg Peabody, another firefighter. He’s not on duty today. Looks like he’s loaded with Christmas trees.”
He must be in the country. Firefighters had dual jobs just to make ends
meet? Here he was, escaping his job, a cushy one at that. Living in his steel and glass skyscraper had made him forget some people didn’t have the life he led handed to them. These people worked hard, he assumed. All the faces of the firefighters were darkened by soot and cold weather.
“Sir?”
She had turned her attention back to him. For some mysterious reason, he liked that.
“Are you okay? Do you think you can make it to the road, or shall I have some of the men head down here to help you?” She took his satchel and looped it over her shoulder.
He hesitated. The men in question did not look very happy. In fact, frowns filled their tired expressions. “Did you just come from a fire?”
She didn’t answer his question, but she cupped his elbow and led him slowly up the muddy track. He enjoyed her touch, so he followed, and nearly slipped. She caught him around the waist and moved closer. Their bodies touched, spreading a delicious heat through his damp clothes. She smelled nice, like pine trees and girly soap, which was a mystery, since she was covered in soot and mud.
“Hey, guys! Give us a hand?” she called to the men. Two slid slowly closer and she handed him off. Still hefting his satchel on her shoulder, she silently followed the trio to the road. A siren slowly went silent as the ambulance stopped nearby. The revolving red lights of the ambulance, fire truck, and a red pickup truck were soon joined by the blue lights of a police car.
Quite the rainbow. Too bad it is surrounding a muddy me.
The officer stepped out and placed a hat on his head. He pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket and closed the driver’s door.
“Quite the party,” Bradley said.
The pretty firefighter chuckled at his elbow.
Rescuing Christmas Page 2