by Vivian Arend
A Firefighter’s Christmas Gift
Holidays in Heart Falls: Book 1
Vivian Arend
Contents
A Firefighter’s Christmas Gift
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
A Firefighter’s Christmas Gift
This firefighter has the perfect gift for a single mom and her little girl—if they’ll take him.
All Bradley Ford wants this holiday season is a date or three with sweet Hanna Lane. He’s the new fire chief, recently returned to Heart Falls to help his father after an accident. And while he wasn’t expecting to find someone like Hanna so soon, Brad’s certain that Hanna—and her adorable daughter, Crissy—are perfect for him and his plans to settle down.
Hanna’s been taking care of herself since she became a single mom at sixteen. The only pure, honest love she trusts is her little girl’s, but for the first time in eight years, her libido flares to life. Something about Brad draws her like a moth to a flame—which is always a bad idea for the moth.
When a fire leaves Hanna and Crissy homeless, Brad offers them shelter at his family’s homestead. Crissy insists they’ve moved in with Santa. Hanna’s not sure how she keeps ending up under the mistletoe with Brad. And Brad? He’s hoping for the best Christmas gift of all…
Holidays in Heart Falls
A Firefighter’s Christmas Gift
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With great thanks and many hugs to Shannon Stacey. You write the most delightful holiday stories. You inspired me to make that happen for myself. May you always have mischief, mistletoe and happily-ever-afters.
1
There were twelve days until Christmas, which didn’t seem like long enough considering everything Hanna Lane needed to accomplish.
Still, some things were meant to be savoured. She wrapped both hands around the cup of mocha latte she’d allowed herself to splurge on, sipping slowly with her eyes closed as she let the sounds in the Buns and Roses coffee shop wrap around her like a warm, winter blanket.
Familiar voices, delicious scents. Tansy Fields’s cinnamon buns made Hanna drool just thinking about them. But she wanted to share the treat she’d bought with her daughter Crissy, which meant keeping the top of the paper bag firmly folded to help resist temptation.
Didn’t mean Hanna couldn’t pretend she had all the options from behind the counter for her tasting pleasure.
A chair squeaked, and she popped her eyes open to discover an enormous, broad-chested man settling himself carefully into the wrought-iron chair on the opposite side of the table. Brad Ford’s deep blue eyes swept over her, a smile on his face.
“Hey, Hanna.”
He reached up and pulled off his toque, running a hand over the short stubble on his head. Hanna couldn’t tear her eyes away. It wasn’t right how simply looking at him was enough to make her hot and cold at the same time.
He was just so big. Big hands, big arms, big biceps being revealed as he shrugged out of his winter coat and draped it over the back of the chair behind him. His long-sleeved T-shirt was living on borrowed time, stretched hard across his shoulders and chest.
A soft cough reached her ears.
Oops, she’d been staring. Hanna’s gaze shot back to Brad’s face where his smile had twisted toward amusement. “Good afternoon, Hanna. Do you need another coffee?”
“No, thank you. I just started this one.”
He moved slowly, the same as usual, but there was so much of him that she always felt like a munchkin when he was around. He settled his elbows on the table in front of him, leaning toward her.
He spoke at the perfect volume so she could hear him but wasn’t easily overheard by their neighbours at the nearby tables. “Sorry I had to cancel last night.”
Hanna was too, and yet at the same time, maybe she wasn’t. “You’re a firefighter. You can’t help when you’re going to get called out.”
“But I was looking forward to our date. You don’t often have a Tuesday night free, and I know you set up a special babysitter.”
Hanna played with her cup. It was easier to not look at him when they spoke, because it still didn’t seem possible he was interested in her. “It probably turned out for the best, because it was a school night. My sitter said she had a test to study for.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of Brad’s food. Fern Fields, the youngest of the Fields family, lowered the tray in front of Brad. She glanced between the two of them, her riotous black curls dancing around her head as her expression grew inquisitive. “Can I get you another drink, Hanna?”
“No, thanks,” Hanna told her quickly.
“Go ahead and get her a second one, and put it on my bill,” Brad insisted over Hanna’s protest. “You can take it home and warm it up later if you don’t drink it now.”
“One dark-chocolate mocha latte, on its way.” Fern waited until Brad transferred the plates to the table before she grabbed the tray with her prosthetic hand and headed back to the counter, humming cheerfully as she dodged tables and people.
Hanna tried her best to look stern as she chided Brad, but she was distracted by the sheer amount of food. “You don’t need to go buying me things.”
“You’re right. I don’t,” he agreed, even as he grabbed a cinnamon bun and put the plate in front of her. “Here. This is for you.”
“Brad.”
His eyes twinkled. “It’s my apology for leaving you dateless last night. Seriously. Otherwise, I’ll feel terrible all day.”
He was terrible. And relentless—and Hanna wasn’t quite sure how to deal with him. She looked at the cinnamon bun and up at him, but when her stomach growled and he lifted a brow, there wasn’t much she could do in protest. “Thank you.”
He nodded happily, picking up his own enormous muffin and taking an enthusiastic bite.
They were quiet for a moment as they both enjoyed their treats, but Hanna wondered again what she was thinking. This man had done everything possible to make it clear he was attracted to her and wanted them to spend time together, but still she hesitated.
She wasn’t sure if her concerns were real or caused by ghosts from the past.
Hanna peeled off another bit of cinnamon bun and popped it in her mouth as she covertly peeked in his direction. Someone at a nearby table was talking with him, not as if she were being ignored but as if Brad was giving her a bit of space.
Brad Ford might be a giant, but he was a gentle giant. Only, Hanna had an eight-year-old daughter who was her first priority, and not even the butterflies of attraction were enough to let her risk Crissy being hurt.
His determined pursuit made Hanna uncomfortable in ways she hadn’t felt for a long time. She was smart enough to know that they weren’t necessarily wrong ways, but she still needed to go slowly. Very, very slowly.
Brad turned toward her, offering her a muffin, and this time when she shook her head he relented instantly.
They were mostly quiet, sharing a companionable silence as Hanna reached the bottom of her first cup of coffee. She checked the time as she considered what she needed to accomplish before meeting Crissy after schoo
l. First on the list was an afternoon nap, because her late-night job cleaning offices meant she could either rest for a while each day or end up like a zombie by the end of the week.
She gathered her things as she glanced across the table at Brad. “Thank you for the lunch treat. I didn’t expect it. It was a nice surprise.”
His face lit up as if she’d given him some kind of prize. “Glad to do it, sugar. I hope Crissy enjoys the cinnamon bun.”
Hanna could picture her daughter’s delight at the sweet treat.
“I…” Funny how she wanted to stay and to escape. “I should go.”
“Can I see you later this week? Maybe we should try a date during the day so you don’t have to worry about getting a babysitter.”
She was more tempted than she should be. It was a generous and observant offer. “Maybe.”
He leaned in again, and it seemed as if there were just the two of them in the crowded coffee shop. “Horseback riding?”
Observant and evil. Horses were her kryptonite. She looked him over and, for one brief moment, allowed herself to enjoy the entire beautiful package of manhood. “Tuesday or Wednesday next week?”
“Friday? Or Monday?” As if he was too eager to wait.
Hanna laughed. “Okay, Monday. But I need to be back at the school by three o’clock when Crissy is done. And I can’t go until eleven o’clock.” Because while she could mess with her schedule a little, like napping before lunch instead of after, she needed to get at least a couple hours of sleep.
He had no arguments. “I’ll pick you up, because I don’t think your car can make it up the road to our ranch.”
A shiver of excitement slid over her, but as she picked up her coffee in one hand and her bag with the cinnamon bun in the other, she offered a smile, fighting against the feeling another date was a dangerous idea. “Okay, I’ll see you then.”
He was on his feet, turning as she moved. “I can’t wait.”
Hanna pushed past him, the scent of his soap and the sheer presence of him like a touch. She headed onto the street, her boots sliding in the snow coating the sidewalk as she returned to her and Crissy’s apartment. They lived upstairs above the ground floor businesses one street over from Buns and Roses.
As she carefully put her drink and the treat in the fridge then headed off to crawl into bed for a bit, she was a mass of shivers and excitement.
Was it possible for something good to be coming her way?
Brad caught himself whistling as he took the steep road to the sprawling ranch house where he’d grown up. Even after being called out on a fire at a most annoying time, and having to stay until nearly two a.m. to make sure there were no lingering sparks from the old barn that had gotten out of control, Brad was pretty much happy as a clam.
He would’ve been happier had he’d made the date with sweet Hanna Lane, but he was a patient man. He was pretty sure there was no use in pushing to move faster than they were already going.
Brad wasn’t stupid. He could tell she was interested, but she was also either incredibly shy or nervous. So be it.
He was patient, but also determined. Coming back to Heart Falls where he’d grown up had been a deliberate choice. Not only so he could be there for his dad, but because he’d enjoyed living in the small town when he was young.
His training as an EMT and firefighter had taken him away, but now he was back, with a good job and enough money in the bank, thanks to an inheritance from when his mom had passed away. He was ready to settle down and raise a family of his own.
Coming back to a small town was a risky proposition in terms of potential relationships, though. There was no way to know who’d still be around, and who’d already found their special someone, which was why he’d been delighted to discover Hanna Lane had moved into the area.
Oh, he’d seen her a couple of times while visiting his father over the years. She had long brown hair she wore loose around her shoulders and big brown eyes that made him want to stare at her for hours. Soft curves on a petite frame—she was spectacular enough to catch his attention but quiet enough he’d never pushed to officially meet her. Not until last June when he’d moved back to town for good.
Ever since then it’d been two steps forward, three steps back in a dating dance. He was serious, but Hanna didn’t seem to think he was. Hanna didn’t seem to know what she was ready for, and he hadn’t pressed her.
They’d had a half-dozen official dates since October, and he’d kissed her twice. Not even real kisses, because once she’d twisted her head and his cautious attempt had landed on her forehead, and the second time he’d hit her cheek. He’d worried that he’d been pushing too hard, but she’d smiled sweetly, and he’d hoped, and…
No matter that he’d been hard and aching for more, he’d been shockingly content to head home each time, determined to go at her pace.
Brad pulled over the ridge of the hill, and the Lone Pine ranch house appeared, the stately wood siding worn by time yet still sturdy. His father had slowed down over the past years, especially after Brad’s mom, Connie, had died two years ago.
But Patrick Ford had cared for the place best he could until his accident in early June. Since then, he’d slowly been getting rid of the animals and renting out the fields to neighbours.
Between his social security and the bit of income from the ranch, his father was doing fine financially. Brad had willingly taken over repairs and his share of the expenses. Heck, he was willing to pay them all if necessary.
He just wanted his dad to be happy. Patrick was still weak from a tractor accident, and it was a tough time of year as the anniversary of Connie’s death approached.
Patrick losing his life partner of nearly forty years had left him more handicapped in some ways than the damage to his legs from being rolled under the heavy equipment.
Outside the house, his dad’s well-worn Chevy truck was parked close to the door. Next to it sat a shiny new Hyundai that looked very out of place in the rustic surroundings. Brad wondered how on earth the vehicle had made it up the snowy drive.
When he pushed through the back door to raised voices, Brad strode in with his boots on, marching through the foyer to the living room.
“Maybe if you’d ever shown that you gave a damn about me, I’d think differently,” Patrick Ford said, the silver white hair on his head standing upright as if he’d dragged a hand through it. He glared sternly at Brad’s older brother, Mark. “There’s no use in arguing. I’ve made up my mind.”
“What’s going on?” Brad interrupted. “Mark, what are you doing here?”
His brother turned on him, anger in his eyes. He wasn’t as big overall as Brad, built more along the lean, narrow lines he’d inherited from their mother. “It’s my house too. I have every right to be here.”
“You’re welcome to visit, but it’s not your house,” their dad said firmly, leaning back in his easy chair as if there weren’t raised voices echoing off the walls.
“Mark. Dad.” Brad stepped between the two of them, putting his hand on his brother’s chest. Mark was nearly vibrating with anger. “I didn’t mean what are you doing here like you’re not allowed, I just didn’t expect you. What’s going on? And don’t shout, my hearing is fine.”
Mark stepped back, pacing the room, the worn wooden flooring letting out a protest, each footfall echoing with a staccato crunch. “He told me to come. Said he had something to tell us, but what he really meant was he wanted me here so he could spit in my face.”
Brad took a deep breath and fought for strength. His dad and his older brother had a falling out years ago, and while he’d tried to convince them to move on, neither of them would budge an inch. It had only gotten worse after Connie died.
Brad put as much authority into his tone as possible, snapping a finger at the chair in the opposite corner from where his dad sat. “Mark, sit down and we’ll figure this out.”
To his shock, his brother actually cooperated, dropping into the chair then glaring at
Patrick.
Brad focused on his father. “Dad? Did you ask Mark to come?”
Patrick nodded. “I didn’t mean to tell him anything until you were here as well. But he makes me so damn angry—”
“I make you angry? You should try living with yourself, old man. You’re the most—”
“Be quiet,” Brad roared, his voice echoing off the walls. “Both of you.”
The two of them quelled, stubborn anger painting their features, but at least now their mouths were shut.
What a mixed-up day. What a change of emotion, to go from daydreaming about sweet Hanna to having to deal with his family’s inflammatory situation. “I don’t have the time or patience to deal with this if all you’re going to do is shout at each other. Mark, stop interrupting and let Dad have his say. But Dad, you can talk without insulting anyone.”
Patrick broke off his staring match with his elder son to meet Brad’s gaze. “I’m just taking care of my estate. Doing the things your mother and I discussed when she was still alive. Damn if I want the tax department to get fifty percent of everything we worked to build.”
“You’re far from being dead,” Brad pointed out, “and to be blunt, when you’re gone, it won’t be your problem. Mark and I will deal with it.”
“The same way he dealt with the money Connie left him? Let it run through his fingers like it was water?”
Mark made a sound as if he was going to speak then locked his jaw together, fists tightening on the arms of the chair.
Patrick looked up at Brad. “Of course I’m dying.”
Brad felt his legs go weak, and he dropped onto the couch. “What? What’s wrong?”