Through The Window

by Wendy Campbell

  “Dream on, kid. You came around a blind corner in my lane. Why didn’t you get your thrills on Wax Road? It’s a straight shot, and you can see people coming for miles.”

  He grunted. “The same Wax Road with two stoplights and the new mini-mart? They got cameras there.”

  “Oh.” Things had changed since she left.

  “Only morons race in front of cameras.”

  “Or professionals, but if tonight is any indication, I don’t think you qualify.” She met his gaze and realized he knew what she was doing. The corners of his mouth twitched. She smiled back. Sirens sounded in the distance.

  ****

  Jordan Stone took one hand off the steering wheel of Engine 2 to adjust his headphones.

  “Want to cut the sirens?” Ray Middleton, the captain on Jordan’s shift, scowled.

  “Are you kidding, Captain? It’s Wednesday. Bingo just ended.”

  “Damn. I forgot. Keep an eye out for Mrs. Carlson in case she forgot her hearing aid again.”

  Jordan grinned. “I intend to.”

  “Did they get Engine 1 fixed?” Tanner asked from the back seat.

  “No. They should revoke her license.” Middleton muttered.

  They could see the glow of the car fire in the distance. Not too bad, Jordan thought. The accident was on the shoulder, which meant they wouldn’t be hauling hose thirty feet through the trees like they had last week.

  “Dispatch, this is Engine 2,” Middleton said into his hand-held radio. “We’re at the scene of a fully involved car fire. It appears everyone is out. We’re going to pull one and three-quarter’s inch pre-connect hose and check for injuries.”

  Jordan noted the position of the cars, the people on the side of the road. He parked, turned the engine to idle and flipped on the side floodlights.

  “Stone,” Middleton said as he put on his helmet, “gear up. We’ll let Tanner run the pump. He needs the practice.”

  “Sure thing, Captain.” Jordan reached for his gear. He’d rather be on the live end of the hose any day.

  ****

  Mel watched the flames devour the kid’s car with ominous pops and bursts of smoke. A shower of sparks shot up and winked out. A sudden gust brought the stench of burning rubber, making her nose and eyes burn.

  The wail of sirens stopped. A fire department aid car stopped behind them, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the huge fire engine parked near the burning car. A firefighter in yellow gear climbed out, then two more equipped with tanks and facemasks. They pulled a hose from the side of the engine and dragged it toward the fire. Reflective stripes on their gear glittered in the white beam of the floodlights. One raised a hand, and water hit the car with a whoosh.

  Bang, bang, BANG. It sounded like popcorn on steroids. Or like something about to blow up. Mel thought they might be too close.

  “Don’t worry.” A woman dressed in a dark uniform with a firefighter emblem squatted next to her. “It’s the metal cooling when the water hits it. Car fires are noisy. Are you hurt?”

  “He got the worst of it.” Melanie nodded toward Rudy, who groaned and closed his eyes.

  “Steal your dad’s car again, Rudy?” the woman said as she took his wrist.

  “Hi, Aunt Terry,” Rudy whispered. “Take me to the hospital. Please?”

  “Why would I do that?” She sounded angry, but Mel could see the worry on her face as she checked Rudy for injuries.

  “So Dad can’t kill me. At least not tonight.”

  “He won’t kill you.” She chuckled. “But he might lock you in the basement until you graduate.”

  While Rudy talked with his aunt, Mel ignored the pain in her arm as she watched the battle. The flashing red lights from the fire engine made an eerie contrast to the fire. A sudden bang reverberated off the trees and a new burst of flames shot toward a firefighter, but he stood his ground, spraying water through the broken windshield. Another firefighter stabbed a large pick into the hood and pried it open. Flames shot out, and they doused them.

  A man with short salt-and-pepper hair and a clipboard walked over. Al Jacobs, her friend Tara’s older brother. She waited to see if he’d recognize her, not sure if she wanted him to. This wasn’t the first impression she wanted to make, but a little part of her hoped he would smile and say “welcome home.”

  He didn’t. With the distance of a complete stranger, he determined the extent of her injury, poured water on the burn, and wrapped a bandage around it.

  Really, it didn’t matter if Al recognized her, she thought as he walked away. Sooner or later everyone in town would know she was back. Even though she was free of Mick and his world of deceit and burglary, her past still clung to her. Somehow, she’d make this work. She finally had her chance to make amends, and she wasn’t going to blow it.

  Suddenly one of the firefighters yelled, grabbed a hose and ran toward her Toyota. Flames darted from underneath it. She jumped up, but someone grabbed her uninjured arm.

  “Don’t,” Terry said, “you’ll only get in the way.”

  “The boxes,” Mel shouted, shaking out of Terry’s grip. “In the trunk.”

  No one showed any indication they heard her. Panic took over, and she sprinted toward her car. A firefighter spun around to cut her off, but she dodged to the side and ran past him. She opened the driver’s door. Hands clamped around her waist, but before they could pull her out, she got a death grip on the steering wheel. Slowly, she eased one hand off the wheel and reached for the trunk release. Flames shot from behind the gas pedal like a torch. Shit! She jerked her hands free. A torrent of water shot through the passenger window and pushed her out of the car.

  She stumbled back against the firefighter. He snagged her around the waist and dragged her away from the car. No! She blinked furiously, trying to see her car. It’d only take a few seconds to get the boxes.

  When she got her feet under her, she lunged. His grip turned to steel. She couldn’t overpower him, so she went slack, letting him struggle with the lack of momentum and her weight. Off balance, he went down, but he took her with him. She wiggled free, rolled to the side and sprang to her feet. Something snapped around her ankle like a vice. She looked down to see a gloved hand and a dirty, bare foot. What happened to her shoe?

  She looked at her car. Smoke poured from the crumpled hood. Flames danced in the driver’s seat. A firefighter pried the trunk open and the fire shot high into the air. The sudden heat hit her face, but she couldn’t turn away. Everything she needed to open the branch office was gone.

  Cold water trickled down her face, and she shoved a hunk of wet hair out of her eyes. The firefighter still held her ankle, so she lifted her hands in a sign of surrender. After a moment of hesitation, he let go and rolled to his feet, graceful even with the ungainly tank on his back.

  The cool night suddenly seemed cold, and she shivered. Wet clothes stuck to her skin, and the burn on her arm ached. She wanted to cry. The firefighter stood in front of her, impervious to the water dripping from the edge of his helmet. Strong and solid, he loomed over her, topping her 5’5” by half a foot. She’d never felt so small and insignificant.

  His breath hissed in and out like Darth Vader’s. Flames reflected off his mask, obscuring his face, but she could feel cold fury radiating from him in waves. She straightened her spine, but her show of defiance ebbed when her teeth started to chatter.

  “My future was in the trunk,” she said in a feeble attempt to explain.

  He shook his head and walked away.

  ****

  Adrenaline still coursed through Jordan’s body. The command had come through the speaker in his helmet, and he’d reacted instantly to intercept the woman, but she dodged him and made it to the car. Why did she want to get in the car? The damn thing was on fire. They made sure no one was in it, not even a dog. Maybe she was on drugs. Or crazy. While he didn’t think it was a suicide attempt, he motioned for Terry to keep an eye on the crazy lady, in case.

  Now he braced his body agains
t the pressure of spraying hose while Middleton started prying the hood loose. Flames devoured the back seat. When they’d been snuffed out, he shifted the hose so water shot through the opening of the driver-side door, the same one she’d jumped in. He didn’t know what pissed him off more, that Crazy-Lady caught them off guard or that she’d made it by him and into the car. The guys would razz him about this for months. Even worse than the bullshit was the knowledge she might have died. While no one would hold him responsible for her actions, it would have been one more death to haunt his dreams.

  A persistent thread of testosterone twined with Jordan’s temper and it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t just adrenaline. As he’d stood there, waiting for Crazy-Lady to crumple in despair, she’d met his gaze and stood tall. Not quite defiant, but certainly not defeated.

  For the last three years he’d wondered if he would ever want, really want, another woman. Despite her chattering teeth, he’d felt attraction for Crazy-Lady, in the middle of a call, no less! That pissed him off even more.

  After Middleton pried the hood free, Jordan doused what remained of the engine, but it wasn’t enough to work off his anger. He traded the hose for the pick and smashed it into the trunk of her car.

  Chapter Two

  Melanie dried her face with a blanket while the firefighters continued to douse the fire consuming her little Toyota. With each burst of flame, she could imagine the source. First went the files and flowcharts, billowing out that cloud of black smoke. Next came the sizzle of the permits and spreadsheets. The eerie blue flames shooting angry sparks would be her laptop. The small, but persistent flames would be her clothes.

  Steven, her boss, would have a fit when he found out she’d lost everything. He didn’t tolerate mistakes. As Human Resources professionals, they were in the business of fixing other peoples mistakes. If he fired her, she’d have to leave Cedar Valley. She had no illusions about finding a different job. Who would risk hiring a thief?

  At least she could tell Steven over the phone, since he was in Denver. She couldn’t decide how she’d break the news to the Snake Charmer, her new partner. His name was Nicholas Barrett, but everyone called him the Snake Charmer. He’d been expecting a twenty-year veteran and got her instead. She’d heard he wasn’t happy about it.

  Without a word, Terry replaced her wet bandage and left her alone to watch the final flames disappear. The new suits and carefully selected casual outfits were gone, along with her shoes, makeup and everything else she needed for her professional image. If she hadn’t been so miserable, she would have laughed. Melanie Quinn, the black sheep of the Quinn family, former cat burglar who could disappear into any setting, couldn’t be more obvious. What possessed her to wear a Denver Broncos T-shirt today? Seahawk loyalty ran strong in Cedar Valley. She’d be labeled a traitor, one who looked like a drowned parrot in her blue and orange shirt and tie-dyed pants.

  Finally, they let her go to the blackened mess that used to be her car. In the burned out trunk, a heel from her navy pump sat on top of the warped shell of her laptop. Everything else had morphed into dirty, dripping heaps. She wiped away the tears, knowing she’d been lucky. Instead of standing on the cool, dark highway, she could be on her way to the hospital. Or the morgue.

  A firefighter stood next to her, the hiss of breath through his mask overriding the low rumble of the fire engine. Melanie rubbed her face, wishing she could rebuild the competent, nothing-fazes-a-Quinn mindset she’d worked so hard to create, but losing her car, and nearly her life, had exhausted her.

  The firefighter took off his helmet and unhooked a hose from his mask before sliding it up and off. He put his helmet back on and looked at her.

  Jordan Stone, the object of her adolescent fantasies, stood before her. A dark, damp strand of hair escaped from the thick hood around his face. His eyes, the color of dark chocolate, held a hot, simmering anger that made her want to run, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even blink. Jordan Stone had pulled her out of the burning car. He’d saved her life.

  Jordan reached out and gripped her arm with an impervious, fireproof glove. “You’re in shock,” he said in a deep, rich voice, far different from the boyish one she remembered.

  “You surprised me.” The nerves that had made it impossible for her to talk to him as a teen returned, and she swallowed. “I didn’t expect to see you. Here. Wearing that.” She glanced at his bunker gear. “When did you come back from California?”

  “Do I know you?” There wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

  She could describe the mole on the back of his neck, thanks to Mrs. Mathews placing her behind him in English class, could tell him the names of the girls he’d dated in high school, including her older sister, and he didn’t even recognize her.

  “Yvonne?” he asked and the right side of his top lip quirked up, just like before. “Yvonne Quinn, right?”

  Mel nearly swallowed her tongue. He couldn’t have delivered a better insult if he’d tried. Even though her sister Yvonne was the beauty in the family, her nasty streak was matched only by her oversized ego. In their early teens, Yvonne swore a personal vendetta against her, and she still didn’t know why.

  Stung, Melanie pulled free of Jordan’s grip. She needed to get away before she burst into tears, but she managed only one step when her bare foot hit something sharp. She snatched it up, lost her balance, and toppled sideways.

  “Easy,” Jordan said, catching her before she hit the ground. “Let’s get you over to the Aid Car.”

  “No. I’m fine.” When she wiggled to get free, his grip tightened. Damn. She was as coordinated and graceful as a cat, so why did she always turn into a klutz around Jordan Stone?

  “You’re in shock, and you need to sit down. Come on.” He pushed lightly on her back and gave her the heart-melting grin that hadn’t changed. “I don’t want to have to carry you.”

  She forced her lips into a small smile and started walking. The thought of being in Jordan Stone’s arms left her speechless.

  ****

  Ten minutes later, Mel watched Jordan load the hose onto the fire engine. He’d removed his coat and hat, leaving on the thick, fireproof pants, black suspenders and a white T-shirt that displayed broad, muscled shoulders. As a kid, he’d been attractive in a sweet, boy-next-door way. Not only had he grown into a sexy, drop-dead gorgeous man, he radiated enough sex appeal to make her mouth water. Pure lust ignited every cell in her body. What was wrong with her? Her car was gone, the boy who ran her off the road was at the hospital, her career was on the line, and all she could think about was Jordan.

  Anna Johnson, her best friend, arrived ten minutes later. She wrapped Mel in a fleece blanket, and they watched as the tow truck loaded the remains of the burnt cars onto a flatbed.

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was back?” Mel asked.

  Anna shrugged. A long moment passed.

  “You thought I still had the hots for him, didn’t you? You thought I wouldn’t come back if I knew he was here, but you’re wrong. I got over him years ago.” The old Jordan, maybe, but the new one made her body sizzle.

  Anna gave her a sideways look that spoke volumes.

  “You’re wrong,” Mel insisted. “We went through thirteen years of school together, and he didn’t even recognize me.” So what if she’d spent her teen years trying to be invisible? She’d sat next to him, behind him or in front of him, all within an arm’s reach, in five school classes.

  “I barely recognized you.” Anna ran the faint beam of a flashlight over her. “What possessed you to wear a Broncos shirt?”

  “No one was supposed to see it.” Cedar Valley’s football obsession rivaled a Super Bowl crowd. She wrapped her arms over her chest.

  “Or the cool purple pants, I bet. Good thing no one recognized you.”

  “I think Al Jacobs did.”

  Anna made a face.

  “Let me guess. He’s the biggest Seahawks fan in the Valley.”

  Anna chuckled.
“You’re screwed. Too bad you lost your stuff.”

  Mel put a hand on the dripping duffle bag at her side, the only thing left. “It can be replaced.”

  They watched Jordan climb into the driver’s seat. He waved as they drove away, but she doubted he could see much beyond the flashing lights of the tow truck.

  Anna waved, but Melanie couldn’t. Jordan Stone shattered the wall she’d created to safeguard her heart, not with a kiss or romantic words, like she’d dreamed. Nope, he’d used fireproof gloves and eyes hot enough to shoot sparks. Still, that familiar longing she used to confuse with love surged through her. How could she still feel so much for a man who didn’t even know her?

  ****

  Anna pulled her red Jeep onto the highway. “Need a place to crash?”

  “No. I bought the Crandall cottage.” Her good news didn’t seem so bright in the aftermath of the car fire.

  Anna frowned. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “I did. It’s cute and perfect for one person.”

  “That explains why Donny’s been acting like a loon the last two weeks.”

  “Who?”

  “Mrs. Crandall’s grandson.” Anna glanced at her, obviously torn between laughing and sympathizing. “He’s been begging paint and old furniture off everyone. Yesterday, he bought a round for everyone at the tavern before splitting for Vegas.”

  “This night keeps getting worse.” Mel sank back into the seat and wondered how she could be stupid enough to buy a cabin she hadn’t seen in ten years.

  “And we’re not even there yet,” Anna said cheerfully. “Do you need to borrow some clothes?”

  “Yes, but if I try to stuff myself into your size 4 pants, I’ll end up in tears.” She rubbed the floor mat with her big toe. “I need shoes. Can we stop somewhere?”

  “Only the tavern’s open. Want a drink?”

  “Never mind.”

  Before she could dwell about hobbling around town with one shoe, they crested the hill, and there was Cedar Valley. The old-fashioned streetlights still guarded every intersection and lit the flower baskets hanging from them. Many of the shops were different, but the small town still radiated a country casualness that whispered “welcome home”.