A Firefighter’s Christmas Gift: Holidays in Heart Falls: Book 1

by Arend, Vivian

  “She’s my heart,” Hanna shared softly. “But those days were hard.” Which was an understatement of extraordinary measures.

  “Where’s your family?”

  The words came out softly, but they still cut. It was the question she wasn’t ready for and yet the real reason why her feet suddenly felt like lead. “Southern Alberta. It was just me and my parents. When I told them I was pregnant…”

  She stalled for long enough that Brad made a noise, deep and rumbling in his chest, and the next thing she knew, Hanna was sitting in his lap.

  She squirmed, but his arms were locked tight around her. “Brad, we’re in a church.”

  “And you need a hug. Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” He squeezed her tight for a moment, his chin resting on top of her head, and it was easier in a way because he couldn’t see her face. He was completely attentive, his body language told her that, but not having to look at him made it easier to continue.

  “My pregnancy didn’t go over well.” She still wasn’t quite sure why she was telling Brad this, but the ball of hurt she kept inside, holding in her past—one small corner of the string began to fray and unravel as her words slipped free. “He called me a few names, then she told me to get out. They refused to have me under their roof even one more night.”

  If anything, his arms tightened, and his lips moved against her temples. “They were wrong. They don’t deserve to have you in their life.”

  “I know. I really do know.”

  She sat motionless, wondering exactly how brave she could be. Yet—this was Brad. The man who had insisted he was her boyfriend. They’d been dating for such a short time, only she knew one solid truth.

  She trusted him more than she’d trusted anyone in years.

  She tilted her head back and looked into his bright blue eyes, reaching to run her palm over his cheek then lifting higher so her fingers stroked the scratchy surface of his head. Touching him and centering herself in the process.

  “You said it’s common to have shock hit after something like the fire. Does that include strange behaviour, like wanting to tell someone something very serious?”

  His gaze drifted to her lips. “I don’t know if that’s shock, or just a sign that two people are learning about each other.”

  Hanna screwed up her courage and went for it. “I know you’re serious, about the girlfriend thing, and the idea makes something inside me quiver. I think I want you to be my boyfriend, but I’m so scared. I can’t quite wrap my brain around someone as good and brave and kind as you wanting someone like me, when everyone who was supposed to love me, rejected me.”

  His expression right then—it looked as if he were ready to take on the world for her. He caught her wrist and pressed her palm to his mouth so he could plant a kiss in the center before pulling back and speaking with crisp authority.

  “Sugar, their lack of love was never about you. Anyone who had an issue, it’s totally their problem. They hurt you like hell, but that’s on them.” He leaned his forehead to hers and stared into her eyes. “Thank you for being honest. We’re not making any decisions right now, but I’m glad to hear you don’t think I’m a terrible idea. I can be patient, but I’m not going to give up.”

  Another bit of the cord around her heart unraveled. The pressure inside turning softer, more hopeful. “Please don’t give up.”

  She let him hold her and took total of advantage that his closeness let her twine her arms around his neck so she could soak in his warm masculine strength.

  They sat there for another five minutes before she sighed. “I need to get to work. And considering the time of year, I want to do an extra good job here.”

  “Tell me what to—” A soft yet insistent beeping went off in his pocket, and Brad slapped a hand on his hip and swore, pulling out his phone and glancing at the message. “I’m sorry. Got to run.”

  She slipped off his lap and walked with him to the doors. “I really didn’t expect you to do my job as well as yours,” she pointed out.

  “If you need me, call,” Brad insisted, catching hold of her face and waiting until she dipped her chin in acknowledgement. Then he grinned, leaning in to kiss her hungrily.

  It was far too easy to wrap her arms around him, and when he straightened and her feet left the ground, her tight hold and the grip he had on her hips kept them in contact. The solid length of his body pressed against her as he took the kiss deeper than before and set her entire body tingling.

  When he put her feet back on the floor, she clung to him for a moment to get her balance.

  A soft chuckle escaped him, and she tapped him on the chest as he let go. “Brad. Inappropriate behaviour in a church.”

  “Seriously. It’s not my fault,” he insisted before pointing a finger above their heads.

  Hanna tilted back for a look where, sure enough, another batch of the dreaded mistletoe had been hooked to the ceiling in plain sight, right there in the entrance of the church. “Who hangs mistletoe in a church?”

  “I’m not about to ask why when the what was so satisfying,” Brad pointed out. He brushed his knuckles over her cheek and backed away. “Drive safe when you’re done.”

  Then he was gone. A swirl of crisp winter air slid around her like an icy embrace, invigorating and refreshing and far too body-tingling.

  Hanna went to work with a candle of hope burning in her heart.

  * * *

  It was one of those calls that would normally have caused Brad to breathe a sigh of relief. No buildings were threatened; no livestock was in the way. But the farmer who’d waited until past midnight to decide the brush pile he’d lit was burning oddly wasn’t on Brad’s favourite list at the moment. Not after he’d been pulled away from what was turning out to be a spectacular evening.

  Of course the fire was burning abnormally. Unbeknownst to their father, the teenage boys in his family had hidden an entire box of fireworks at the base of the heap, planning to pull it out over the holidays when mom and dad were off visiting friends.

  Dan Simpson cringed, ducking as if hiding from gunfire as another round went off behind them. “They’ll be doing extra chores all holidays, trust me on that,” he informed Brad.

  “If you run out of dirty tasks to do here, send them down to the fire hall,” Brad suggested. “We have lots of equipment that needs scrubbing.”

  A crack of amusement appeared in the farmer’s annoyed exterior, and he pounded Brad on the shoulder. “I’ll do that.”

  Brad waited with the truck for the pyrotechnics to exhaust themselves, dodging once when a flare escaped and shot straight between him and Mack.

  Mack laughed, pulling himself out of the snow bank where he’d landed. “Never had to deal with fires like this back in Calgary.”

  Brad shook his head. “Fireworks aren’t bad. It’s worse when it’s one of the old-timers’ cabins and you discover they’ve got an ammunition stash under their bed. It was like walking into a war zone trying to get old Clancy Miller out of his bathtub before the entire house went up in flames around him.”

  Mack stared at Brad for a moment as if trying to figure out if he was lying or not.

  Brad lifted a brow but didn’t comment.

  His friend shook his head. “The things people don’t warn you about regarding small-town life.”

  They’d let the rest of the crew go, so it was just him and Mack who headed back to the station. They parked the truck and put their gear away, making sure everything was ready for next time the equipment was needed.

  Brad glanced at his second-in-command, the two of them the only paid full-time firefighters in the community. “What have you got planned for the holidays?”

  Mack shrugged. “I’m working, so I’ll be sticking around.”

  Stupid that he’d never thought of it before this moment, but it was the right thing to do. “Join us for Christmas Day.”

  “No can do,” Mack offered with a grin as he put the final jacket in place. “I already have a
date, and she’s better looking than you.”

  Brad pulled himself to a halt. “Why didn’t I know this? Who are you seeing?”

  Mack’s grin was a mile wide. “You didn’t notice because you’re a little obsessed and don’t have room for anything in your brain other than Hanna Lane. And the answer to your second question is Brooke.”

  “Brooke the mechanic?”

  “Yup.”

  Huh. Brad considered that for a moment before shrugging. “Good for you.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Not that I was sitting around waiting for you to bestow your blessing upon me or anything.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No problem. I need to hit the hay in case we get any other early New Year’s Eve celebrations. Oh.” Mack turned back in the doorway to the sleeping quarters where he was staying on-site. “The inspector already posted her report on the Jameson building fire—Hanna’s place. Started from an electric short in the front law office. There was no vandalism or fault on anyone’s part except the building owners.”

  “Perfect. Thanks for letting me know.”

  Brad took off for home, scrubbing down in a hot shower before collapsing onto his mattress.

  The fire report wasn’t something he’d been too worried about, because he knew Hanna wouldn’t have done anything to cause the fire, but having her in the clear was like an extra Christmas present.

  He wasn’t sure what woke him, but suddenly, he was upright in his bed, listening carefully. If his brother was sneaking around—

  His feet hit the floor, and an instant later, he was out in the hallway.

  A whimper sounded from behind Hanna’s door, and he didn’t hesitate. He slid inside, marching across the room to the bathroom to turn on the light there so when she woke, she’d be able to see who he was.

  She was thrashing hard, head rolling from side to side.

  He stepped toward the bed. “Hanna.”

  Her arms shook, face crunched up tight as she curled into a ball, rolling on her side as if protecting herself.

  It was possible he was about to get punched, but he couldn’t let her keep suffering through her nightmare. He settled on the edge of the bed and laid a hand firmly on top of the blankets, pressing down on her shoulder. Speaking more forcefully, he said, “Hanna. You’re having a bad dream. Wake up.”

  Her eyes popped open, and yes, her arm swung out, narrowly missing his face. He tensed, ready to spring away at the first sign of fear in her eyes as she focused on him.

  Instead she snapped upright and threw herself into his arms, clinging to him. She quivered as she forced out the words. “Crissy’s okay. The fire is over. Yes?”

  He curled himself around her tighter, wanting to protect her from the past. “Crissy is sound asleep and snoring. The fire happened, but it’s done. You’re safe. You’re both safe with me. You understand, sugar?”

  Her head bobbed up and down against his chest. “My God, that was the most real dream I’ve ever had.” She took a deep, still-shaky breath then curled up her fist and smacked it against his chest.

  He grunted in surprise. “Hey. What was that for?”

  She was still quivering, but now her voice held a touch of apology, and she tried to laugh. “You’re the one who told me I was going to have some kind of panic attack. Thanks for setting up my nightmare.”

  Brad chuckled, rearranging his arms around her. “I’ll take the blame.”

  Hanna tilted her head back, her hand sneaking behind his neck to stroke his head. “I was teasing. It’s not your fault.”

  Sweet innocent. “I’ll still take the blame. I’ve got broad enough shoulders.”

  Her gaze drifted down, eyes widening slightly as if realizing he had no shirt on, so the only thing between them was the thin layer of the T-shirt she wore—one of his, which gave him a kick of pleasure.

  She had one hand around his neck and the other wrapped around his biceps. He liked her touch far too much considering when and where they were in this relationship. Which was why he fully expected her to maybe give him a kiss before scurrying to safety.

  Instead she stroked him. A feather-light touch over his biceps and higher before coming back. Her gaze was fixed on her fingers as she explored, her hand drifting up then forward over his deltoid. Along the edge of his ribs.

  Brad damn near held his breath as she leaned away far enough to expose his abdomen. He lost his breath in a solid gasp as her fingers trickled over his belly before sliding along his obliques.

  “Hanna?” He swallowed hard. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask her except, dear God, he hoped she didn’t stop.

  She pressed her warm palm fully against his torso before lifting her gaze to meet his. “Stay with me.”

  This time he was the one to quiver. He wasn’t going to turn her down, but damn if he’d let her go farther than she’d be happy with in the morning. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

  Confusion drifted over her expression.

  He took control away, swinging the quilt back and sliding her to the middle of the mattress so there was room for him to join her. He settled on the bed at her side, keeping her tucked up against him, thighs brushing, torsos rubbing. He cradled her head on his arm and twisted until he could reach down the length of her.

  A soft glow escaped from the bathroom and reflected in her wide eyes. He trailed his fingers over her chest, her heart pounding as hard as it had when he’d entered the room, but now it appeared, for a far better reason.

  Hanna licked her lips, and his good resolve wavered.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Hanna Lane, and there’s not a single piece of mistletoe around.”

  Her lips quirked for a second. “Okay.”

  He leaned closer, pulling back as if he’d remembered something. “I’m going to touch you,” he warned.

  Her fingers snuck up his body, curling over his pectorals. “Okay.”

  Dear God, he was going to explode from the way she said that one word. He leaned in again, and this time, since he’d been good and asked for permission, there was no reason to go slow. No reason to start gentle, so he took her mouth and consumed her. Leaning against her because he could, pressing their bodies together yet somehow not rolling over her and pounding her into the mattress—

  Civility barely held in place.

  Her lips were so sweet, and the little sounds she made dragged up his spine as if she were using her nails on his skin.

  He lowered a hand to her hip until he could slip under the edge of the T-shirt, rising slowly over her narrow waist. Past her ribs and up to cup one breast.

  She gasped against his lips as he made contact. Brad pulled back so he could watch the expressions dancing over her face as he circled his hand against her tightening nipple.

  He saw pleasure, desire, and the tiniest hint of fear.

  It was that small reminder that let him regain his self-control to the point where he could give her what she needed right now. It wasn’t going to be a sacrifice, not really. It was, however, going to make her forget all the worries she’d suffered over the past days.

  That much he could promise.

  10

  She hadn’t put it on her wish list for Christmas, but being in bed with Brad was definitely a present she’d wanted to unwrap.

  Things were rolling awfully quickly, and yet she’d told him earlier about her concerns, and he’d done everything right. He hadn’t mocked her or pushed them aside as foolish.

  When she’d felt fear, his voice had cut through the terror. As the flames roared in her head, his voice had been the cool spray calming the fire and restoring order.

  The heat, however, wasn’t going down. Not. One. Bit.

  Brad stared at her with desire in his eyes as his big hand rolled over her breast. Every part of her that had ever reacted with sexual interest had been plugged in and gotten fully charged over the past umpteen years.

  His gaze drifted down to where he was playing, scraping his finger n
ails over her nipple until it tightened so hard she worried it might shear through the fabric of the T-shirt. Then that failed to be a concern because with a growl, he shifted position, tugging the material up far enough to expose both her breasts.

  His expression went tortured, and he cursed softly.

  Careful and slow—he was working too hard to not push her.

  Hanna desperately wanted him to continue whatever it was he’d planned in the first place. She caught his head, rubbing her palms against the thin layer of rough hair, tugging him closer. He came willingly, plumping her breast before wrapping his lips around her nipple and sucking.

  It’d been so long since anyone had touched her. There was really no way he could do this wrong, and a million ways to do it right.

  He slid from one breast to the other, pressing kisses in the valley between them before licking the very tip of her nipple. He hummed happily, his expression clearly one of fascination.

  It was addictive. So ego-stroking to see how happy he seemed as he touched her.

  She was experiencing astonishing levels of pleasure, her skin alive and sensitive as he not only worshipped her breasts, but stroked his hands along her rib cage, drifting higher to anchor her neck as he briefly came back to kiss her.

  Oh, those kisses. Forceful enough she couldn’t escape, but gentle enough she didn’t want to. He moved her under him until his tongue dipped into her belly button.

  She shivered. “Brad.”

  “Close your eyes,” he murmured. “You don’t get to do anything right now but feel.”

  Which was a great concept except she was about to go into sensory overload. He tucked his fingers under her hips, big hands reaching forward so she was held in his embrace. His callused thumbs stroking her hipbones.

  He played with the edge of her panties for a moment before peeling them away to leave her exposed from her chin down. He stared, that light in his eyes growing wilder, and when he reached up and laid a hand over her belly, Hanna quivered.

  “So soft,” Brad whispered, trailing his fingers to one side as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to where her panty line would have been. Then lower, to where curls covered her mound. “So soft and pretty.”