A Firefighter's Christmas Gift (Holidays in Heart Falls Book 1)

by Vivian Arend

  Patrick was awake, leaning forward and staring into the fire. His head dipped rhythmically, as if listening to a conversation only he could hear.

  Brad leaned on the doorframe. “I’m headed for bed,” he announced.

  His father glanced over his shoulder, blinking in surprise. “I should do the same. Although I suppose I’m just changing locations—I can sleep here as easily as I can there.”

  Brad stepped forward and offered a hand to assist his father to rise to his feet. “You’ll sleep sounder in your bed.”

  “I’ll only sleep for as long as my brain will let me,” Patrick complained. “Keep thinking about your brother. Wish there wasn’t this wall between us.”

  Patrick leaned heavily on his canes to move forward. He looked older than usual, not because of his motion but because of the weariness in his face.

  The way he always looked when he talked about Mark.

  Brad kept his mouth shut until he helped his dad into his room. “Give it time. Keep the door open.”

  His father nodded, then offered a wave goodnight, leaving Brad with his thoughts and frustrations.

  Mark wasn’t a rotten person. He just had priorities wrong, as far as Brad could tell. Money meant everything to his brother, in the “it flows through his fingers faster than he can make it” kind of way.

  He took himself off to bed, carefully opening the door leading into the shared bathroom, but the door on her side of the room was closed. Hanna was long gone to sleep.

  He tried his best to be up and moderately happy in the morning, but that was asking a little much. Patrick drifted through the room, answering Crissy’s questions about the next time he’d be in their classroom.

  “Ms. Fields said we can read Christmas stories when you’re there because it’s the last day before the holidays,” Crissy told him excitedly before her face turned sad. “It was on an announcement paper in my backpack that got burnt up.”

  “I’m sorry about your backpack, but thank you for reminding me,” Patrick said, pointing to a paper bag on the counter. “It’s not new, but I found something this morning for you to use.”

  Crissy left her bowl of cereal and scurried across the room, bringing the bag with her to Hanna and crawling into her mom’s lap to open it.

  As the straps of the brightly flowered bag came into view, Crissy made a low sound of happiness. “It’s so pretty.”

  Brad turned his attention on his father. Patrick wore something near a smile but not quite, fading in and out. “It was my wife’s. She used it when she went to town for special events. It’s got strings to close it up tight and a hidden zipper compartment. There’s even a strap to wear across your body. Better than a backpack.”

  Crissy squirmed out of Hanna’s lap and raced to Patrick’s side to let him show her all the secrets.

  A soft touch settled on his shoulder. Brad glanced up to see Hanna waiting there, fighting for composure.

  He trapped her fingers, giving them a squeeze.

  Then a dancing little girl was in front of him, flowered strap crossing from shoulder to hip as she twirled to show off her gift. “This was your Mommy’s,” she informed him before planting her hands on his knees and leaning forward to tell him earnestly, “I’ll take good care of it, I promise.”

  “My mom would be pleased to see her bag going to school.” He glanced at his father. “Seriously. Mom liked to make people happy.”

  Patrick nodded. “That she did.”

  The morning chaos slipped into a familiar routine as breakfast was finished and teeth were brushed. Brad ended up with three people in his truck, Crissy in a booster seat he’d grabbed from the emergency supplies at the fire hall the previous day.

  He waited by the school as Hanna dropped Crissy off, walking her to the door and giving her a kiss. The flash of the brightly coloured bag was the last thing visible as Crissy slipped away.

  Hanna climbed into the truck and stared out the front window, obviously lost in thought, which he understood, yet at the same time he wanted to be there for her. He reached over, pulled off her left glove and slipped her hand into his, wordlessly aiming them for the bank.

  Her gaze dropped from the window to their hands. She glanced up at him then back at their hands, but didn’t say anything.

  By the time she got back in the truck after the third stop, though, Brad grinned when she was the one who reached over and tangled their fingers together on top of the booster seat.

  By eleven thirty they’d finished all of the tasks they could do in town, including a visit to her insurance company. He’d walked in with her on that one, standing back, but there if she needed help—he was the Fire Chief. If he could make anything go faster, he was going to.

  Finally, Hanna stepped out onto the boardwalk, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Brad tucked himself next to her to protect her from the wind that was swirling snow around them.

  “Are you done?”

  She leaned on the wall behind her and lifted her eyes to his. “For now? I am beyond done.”

  “Lunchtime.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He was starving, so she had to be as well. “Come on.”

  She walked hand-in-hand with him into Buns and Roses before her fingers slipped away.

  He glanced down to see her cheeks were rosy red, far brighter than they’d been outside in the cold wind. Ahead of them Tansy Fields was eyeing them with a great deal of curiosity.

  She popped out from behind the counter and came over to wrap Hanna in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, honey. I heard about the fire. I’m glad you and Crissy are okay.”

  Hanna nodded. “Thanks. Brad’s helping me get things straightened out with the insurance and everything.”

  It sounded an awful lot as if she was giving an explanation for why they were together, which was all right, except she didn’t say a thing about the fact that this was a date, indicating Hanna was still attempting to deny it.

  As Tansy headed back behind the counter, Brad slid closer to Hanna, slipping his arm around her waist and turning her toward the menu as if it was the first time either of them had seen it. “Have something to warm you up, sugar. It’s been a long morning.”

  The expression on Tansy’s face was totally worth it, and suddenly something nipped him, hard, on the waist. He jerked upright before realizing Hanna had slipped her hand under his jacket and pinched him.

  He peeked down, trying not to grin.

  She leaned in close. “Behave,” she warned.

  “This is me behaving,” he murmured back.

  Thank God she laughed, the soft sound rolling over him and making his heart pound. And when she didn’t run away, but curled against him as they put in their orders, something inside him melted.

  He liked how brave she was. He liked how she’d been so resilient all morning, facing questions and uncertain timeframes.

  They tucked themselves behind a table in the corner. Christmas music played cheerfully in the background, Hanna’s cheeks bright red as she pulled off her toque and scarf and tucked them into the pocket of her borrowed coat. “Thank you for lunch.”

  “You’re welcome.” He eased his chair around the corner so they were closer to each other rather than directly across, placing his hand casually on the tabletop, palm up.

  When she didn’t check to see who might be watching before lowering her fingers to his, that warm spot inside got even gooier.

  She lifted her gaze to meet his, blinking shyly. “This is a funny date.”

  “I think it’s a great date,” he assured her, stroking his thumb over her knuckles, breathing in deep and letting his happiness show.

  She stared at his fingers, her tongue sneaking over her lips. Everything in him tightened.

  He forced himself to keep his touch gentle. “It was a productive morning, as well. Sounds as if you’ve got all the right balls rolling, and now you’re stuck on the waiting part.”

  Hanna wrinkled her nose. “The part I hate the most. And it’s the go
vernment, so getting documents, especially over the holiday season, is going to be nearly impossible.”

  “Another reason for you not to worry about moving out until February,” he reminded her. “It will take as long as it takes—there’s no use panicking over the rest of it.”

  She opened her mouth, and he was certain she was going to say another thank you when she dipped her head firmly and changed the topic. “All the offices I clean are closed Boxing Day and the rest of the week, so that will be a good chance to get caught up on anything I need to, or if I have to go to Calgary for any documentation.”

  He thought of something else. “I know you made a bunch of calls last night, but is there any family you should get in touch with? To let them know about the fire so they’re not worried when they try to call on Christmas Day?”

  Her fingers went absolutely still, and before he could catch her, she’d slipped them away, clutching her hands together in her lap as she stared down. Shaking her head.

  So different from the warm and giving woman he’d spent the morning with. This Hanna looked like a puppy someone had kicked.

  “Hanna? What’s wrong?” he asked softly, lowering his voice.

  She took a deep breath. “I have no family except Crissy.”

  He waited, leaning away as Tansy brought their food to the table. Desperately hoping this wasn’t the moment Hanna’s friend would choose to tease.

  Miracle of Christmas miracles, Tansy either was too busy to stay or she’d caught the gist of the moment, because she gave a quick finger wave and hurried away.

  Hanna picked up her spoon and stirred the soup, thick chunks of vegetables rolling to the surface as savoury-scented steam curled upward.

  “Hanna.” Her name came out as if he were begging, and he was in a way. He wanted that bright, happy woman back. The one who’d been there only a moment earlier. “I’m sorry I asked a question that touched a nerve.”

  She put down the spoon, determination on her face as she reached across the table and curled her fingers over his fist, squeezing in reassurance. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just surprised you didn’t know this gossip. I haven’t seen or heard from my parents in years, and I’m an only child.”

  Another family with internal tension. Unfortunately, it was all too common. “I’m sorry. My brother doesn’t come around very often, and when he does, there’s inevitably a fight.”

  “With you?” she asked.

  “With Dad, to tell the truth.”

  Her eyes widened. “How on earth could someone fight with Patrick? He’s the most agreeable, kindest man I’ve ever met. With a heart of gold.”

  He gave her back her hand and pointed at her spoon to get her to start eating before the food got cold. “I’m glad you think my father’s amazing. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

  She stopped with the scoop of thick broth halfway up, her mouth hanging open. “Jealous?”

  “It’s good you like him,” Brad told her, smiling wickedly. “But you’re my girlfriend.”

  Her spoon dropped with a clatter, and she grabbed her napkin to wipe up the splatters. “Brad.”

  He offered his napkin as well. “Did you just call me a brat?”

  “If the boot fits,” she offered.

  Food took precedence, easy conversation and ready smiles returning. Brad tucked away the bit of information about her family for future conversation, and that was the end of it until they got home.

  His dad had left a note on the table by the front door. He’d gone shopping but would be home in time for supper.

  Hanna headed down the hallway to take her nap when she stopped, turning to examine Brad intently. “We haven’t really gone on enough dates for you to call me your girlfriend.”

  “Does it really have anything to do with how long we’ve been seeing each other?” he insisted, stepping closer. “Hanna, I didn’t ask you out because I thought we’d have fun and fool around for a couple of months then go our separate ways. I like you. A lot. I don’t know where this is going to end up, but I want you to be thinking about me—about us—seriously.”

  He was only inches away now, her head tilted back so she could look up at him.

  Hanna swallowed hard.

  He pointed above their heads to where he’d fastened a bunch of mistletoe on the far side of the rafter where it wasn’t noticeable until he stood right in that spot.

  “You are a brat,” Hanna said softly.

  “We don’t want to break any Christmas rules,” he reminded her before tucking his fingers under her chin. He inched forward, slow enough she could escape if she wanted, as he brought their lips together.

  A soft touch. Once. Twice, before deepening the kiss. Demanding a little more, and when Hanna willingly opened her lips so he could sweep in, everything in him tightened to rock.

  Except his blood which seemed infused with effervescence, or maybe helium, because his feet were about to float off the ground.

  Her hands landed on his shoulders, fingers digging as she held him, neither pushing away or pulling him closer. Right where he was seemed fine by him.

  The kiss went on and on until his head was ready to explode. He was one step away from—

  No, he was taking a step away, smile firmly in place as he backed up.

  Hanna blinked at him, breathing shakily.

  “Sweet dreams,” he told her. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to pick up Crissy.”

  He turned his back and walked away, whistling happily.

  8

  Sweet dreams? Oh, she was having dreams, all right. But sweet wasn’t the word, because if there had been any real sugar involved, it would’ve caramelized in the first thirty seconds.

  Her body had still been tingling as she crawled between the sheets. Hanna had refused to go over every second of the date, or let her mind linger on the hand holding, or how good it felt to have him with her all morning.

  Although it had turned out to be impossible to push the kiss from her mind. In fact, that’s what she had to have been thinking about as she fell asleep because…

  Dreams. Hot ones. Ones where all of her clothes magically disappeared, and she was no longer in her bed but in Brad’s, and from there things got a little hazier in detail, but the heat remained—flaming hot, achingly hot.

  Maybe there was something good about the heat, though, because eventually as her limbs relaxed, she fell into a deep sleep. The sensation of big, careful arms holding her felt far too comforting.

  When she woke, Hanna rolled and eyed the clock. She had fifteen minutes before she needed to crawl out of bed, so she stretched lazily, feeling a snap crackle pop along her spine.

  It was nice to not have to rush. It was nice to feel as if she’d accomplished some good things that morning, even though, as Brad had pointed out, now she was at the hurry-up-and-wait stage.

  She slipped into the washroom, brushing her hair and examining the dark circles under her eyes. She was a vision of beauty these days.

  The door on Brad’s side of the bathroom opened and she twirled, hands rising to cover her body. “Stop. I’m in here—”

  Only it wasn’t Brad. Instead, a man with blond hair stood in the doorway. His eyes dropped over her but Hanna didn’t see anymore. She screamed and swung her brush at his head. The instant the heavy-backed object made contact she let go, racing out the opposite door and through her bedroom.

  Two steps into the main hallway she slammed into another body, swinging her fists and fighting until she recognized Brad’s voice.

  “Hanna, stop. What’s wrong?”

  She went limp in his arms, clutching his waist. “There’s a man in my room. Our room. The bathroom,” she finally got out, clinging tightly to his torso but squirming behind him like a child in hiding.

  Brad straightened to his full height. He pushed her door open just as the man came out of Brad’s room.

  Hanna clutched at Brad’s hips. “That’s him.”

  “Mark?” Fury threw the name f
rom Brad’s lips. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

  “Checking out the decorations. Figures. As soon as you knew the place was yours, you started hauling in women.”

  “You’re disgusting,” Brad said. He stepped forward, keeping his body between Hanna and the other man, forcing an opening for Hanna to be able to reach her bedroom door. “Hanna, go get dressed.”

  She vanished into her bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind her. She raced across the room to the bathroom and did the same to that lock, and only then did she take a breath.

  Out in the hallway, shouting continued. Not on Brad’s part—his comments were now few, deep and controlled. It was the other man who’d raised his voice, making comments about favouritism and floozies.

  That was a new one. She’d never been called a floozy before. She’d heard slut and whore, which, compared to floozy, were whole lot nastier.

  A crash rang out as a body slammed into one of the walls. Mark, from the sound of the curses that followed.

  Hanna’s hands shook as she pulled on her clothes, moving determinedly because there was no getting around it. She had to go into the main part of the house to get her keys so she could grab her daughter.

  Things had gone suddenly quiet. She stole down the hallway on tiptoes, peeking around corners before committing to step into the front foyer.

  Brad waited for her at the front entrance. He checked her over carefully, even as he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Who was that?”

  “My brother.”

  “The one who likes to fight with Patrick?”

  Brad nodded. “I took his key away. There’s no way he can get back in the house unless he breaks something, and I told him if he did that I’ll not only call the police, I’ll call an ambulance.”

  The implication was easy to understand. Mark would need the ambulance—

  The knot inside Hanna loosened, although she didn’t like to think about why the violence was so reassuring. Obviously, she was far more bloodthirsty than she’d imagined.