“Photos of what?” He shrugged. “My last vacation that I took alone? A picture of me taken by another tourist? No, that’s just depressing.”
“Don’t you have a cat or a dog?”
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Maybe a picture of your mom, then.” She shot him a grin.
“Absolutely not.” Matt laughed. “That’s how a guy gets to be known as a mama’s boy.”
“Is that so terrible?” she joked.
“That’s coming from a mother,” he replied with a chuckle. “I love my mom, and she knows it. When I get married, I’ll put my wife’s picture on my desk. Happy?”
“It’ll have to do.”
“Trust me, the mystery is better than the reality.”
“And what’s the reality?”
“A whole lot of work and not much of a social life.” His eyes crinkled up into a smile. “I might need to get a dog so people stop feeling sorry for me.”
The sun peeked from behind a cloud, then disappeared again. Clouds were moving in, the air cooling. The hum of a lawn mower floated over the breeze, bringing along with it the scent of freshly cut grass. The fire station was on the corner of a well-established residential area, and they angled their steps down a tree-lined street, Matt with his hands in his pockets and Rachel sauntering beside him. The houses on either side of them were small bungalows, and the trees that stretched over the road were mature. Matt glanced in her direction.
“Thanks for all your help today. I owe you one.”
“No, don’t worry about it,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I feel a little bad for the rumors your receptionist is about to start...”
He grinned. “It’s inevitable.”
“But she’s new, right?” she asked. “Maybe she’ll be properly in awe of you and restrain herself.”
“I doubt it.” He laughed. “She might be new to the firehouse, but she’s also the church pianist. The familiarity is already there.”
“You really can’t win, can you?” she teased.
A cooler breeze enveloped her in a chilly embrace. Clouds rolled in more quickly now, a dark, smudgy blanket moving over the town, carrying with it the electric scent of promised rain.
“With all the people you know around town,” she began, “why did you ask me to help you? I’m sure you know teachers and day-care providers, and—”
He looked down at her, regret swimming in his clear eyes. “I’ve applied for a job across the state,” he said. “It’s not definite, so I need to be discreet. Anyone else would pass the word in a heartbeat.”
She attempted to cover her surprise by looking down. So he wasn’t planning on sticking around Haggerston anyway. That would be a good thing to keep in mind when Chris got to know him.
“Oh...” She cleared her throat.
“I hope that isn’t crass.” He grimaced. “I’m not suggesting that you have no friends—”
She attempted to smile casually. “No, I get it. It’s no problem. I’ll keep that little detail to myself.” It wasn’t her place to pass around rumors, and she wasn’t naive about the speed of gossip in a place this size.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
So he was heading out of town, if all went according to plan. It was good to know, and it helped. Matt Bailey was charming and handsome, and it certainly gave her more willpower to know that he wasn’t going to stick around—not that she actually needed any more excuses to stay out of a relationship. Chris had gone through enough changes lately, and she doubted he could handle it if his mom started dating. Besides, a firefighter’s life held no mystery for her. She knew all about the long hours, the middle-of-the-night calls to fill in for someone who was sick, the constant danger and the wear and tear on a marriage. That uniform might be appealing, but the lifestyle was not.
As if on cue, thunder rumbled overhead and Rachel squinted up at the ever-darkening clouds.
“It’s going to rain,” Matt said. “Come on.”
“Shouldn’t we head back?” she asked, quickening her pace to keep up with his long stride.
“This is closer,” he replied. “I live just down Oak Street.”
Rachel ducked her head against the first mist of rain and she grimaced inwardly. Rain and moisture were going to do a number on her straightened hair.
I’m the mother of a first grader, still worrying about my hair blowout.
A clap of thunder boomed overhead, and with it came a deluge of rain, pounding down onto them like a thousand tiny fists. Matt scooped up her hand in his and broke into a jog, tugging her along, pulling her closer against his broad, muscular shoulder.
“We’re going to be drenched!” Rachel laughed breathlessly. Water dripped down her face, slicking her fuchsia T-shirt against her skin. Matt’s hand tightened around hers as they crossed a street, his head ducked against the rain.
“Looks like.” He chuckled, the sound warm and deep. “Don’t worry. I’ve got coffee.”
As they jumped over a puddle already forming by the curb, Matt pointed to a little house across the next street, a white-trimmed bungalow, blurred by the falling rain.
“Almost there.” His voice was low and close to her ear. With another boom of thunder, they made the last dash toward shelter.
* * *
Matt unlocked the front door and they stumbled inside just as another flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed seconds later by a deafening peal of thunder. Their footsteps echoed in the entryway, and he flicked on a light to compensate for the premature darkness of the storm. He normally kept a pretty clean house, but he did a quick glance around to make sure he hadn’t left a T-shirt on the sofa or his barbells on the floor from his morning workout that would betray his manly ways. Rachel stepped inside and shivered. Her hair dripped, the previously smooth waves springing up into sodden curls.
She has curly hair.
He wasn’t sure why this discovery made him smile, but it did.
Rachel looked down at the puddle she’d made on the floor. Her jeans were dark with rain and goose bumps prickled across her arms.
“I’m making a mess,” she said.
“No more than I am,” he replied. His uniform clung to his arms and legs, a steady trickle of water meandering down his back. “Tell you what. If it wouldn’t be too awkward, let me give you some of my clothes to wear while we toss yours into the dryer.”
She contemplated for a moment, then nodded. “I don’t see a way around it. I’m drenched.”
While Rachel changed behind the locked bathroom door, Matt grabbed a fresh T-shirt and a pair of jeans for himself out of his dresser drawer. He changed quickly, tossing his wet clothes into a hamper on his way out of the bedroom, and headed toward the kitchen.
Matt grabbed the filters and coffee grounds from the cupboard, feeling more cheerful than he had felt in a while. Outside the kitchen window, the rain came down in sheets, trees heaving with the gusts of wind. His patio chairs rattled in the wind and collected pools of water on the seats, and he paused to watch the low, boiling clouds.
It didn’t matter where you went in Montana, the sky remained the same. The same summer storms swept over the state, and he couldn’t help wondering if South Maitland would be different enough to drown his memories.
“I found your dryer myself. I hope you don’t mind.”
Matt turned from the coffeemaker to find Rachel in the kitchen doorway, dwarfed in one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. Soft wisps of hair began to dry around her cheeks and spiraled into silky curls. She held up the pants with one hand and sank into a kitchen chair.
“I’ve never felt less put together.” She laughed.
“All you need is coffee,” he replied with a grin. “How do you take it?”
“Cream and sugar.”
&nb
sp; The coffeemaker sputtered soothingly in the background. Her gaze wandered around the kitchen, sliding over his black stove and dark cupboards and stopping at his fridge.
“Aha,” she said, a triumphant smile coming to her lips. “Finally something personal.”
She crossed the kitchen and perused the photos that were stuck there with various magnets.
“Who’s this?” she asked, pointing at a wedding photo.
“My brother, Craig, and his new wife, Gloria.”
He glanced over her shoulder at the familiar photo. Craig was pulling Gloria close against him, and her head was tilting down to his shoulder. They both beamed into the camera. Matt stood next to his brother in an “at ease” stance, and the maid of honor stood in a pinkish-orange dress, her flowers clutched in front of her. Matt remembered the happiness of that afternoon. Craig and Gloria could have gotten married in a mud puddle and it wouldn’t have dampened their spirits.
“You make a very dapper best man.” She shot him a smile. “It looks like a beautiful wedding.”
“He tried to get out of it,” he said with a short laugh.
“You’re kidding.” She cast him a surprised glance.
“The morning of the wedding, he told me he was leaving town. So I did the only thing I could.”
“Called the bride?” Rachel asked.
“Duct-taped him to a kitchen chair and talked some sense into him.”
Rachel burst out laughing. “That’s an interesting solution.”
“I knew he didn’t mean it. He was just panicking. The same way he panicked before taking Tina Beuller to the prom...the same way he panicked before going to Yale. He’s that kind of guy.”
“So obviously you talked him back into the wedding,” she said, her attention moving back to the picture.
“Yeah. It didn’t take more than about ten minutes. I got him to the church on time. Never did get all the tape off his tux, though.”
“Sounds like you’ve got an interesting relationship,” she commented.
“You could say that.”
He and Craig had been rivals for most of their lives. From high school grades to girls they dated, the brothers had been neck and neck. And then they’d gone their separate ways. Matt started his firefighter training and Craig headed off to Yale Law School. Their rivalry got complicated then.
“But you’re close?” Rachel asked, pulling him back to the present.
“Yeah, we have each other’s backs.” He shrugged. “He’s blessed. He’s got a good woman there.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that. She understands him, and after totally figuring him out, she still wanted to marry him.”
Rachel smiled. “Sounds like he had you working for that marriage, too.”
“Gloria is intent on returning the favor and finding me a wife. She’s the matchmaking type.”
The coffee stopped sputtering and Matt turned back to the counter to pour coffee. He grabbed two mugs, both with fire-station logos across the side. He glanced back to find her still entranced by the information on his fridge. He shook his head wryly. Most people preferred to admire his backyard or the kitchen renovations, but Rachel was different.
“Who’s this?” she asked, pointing to another photo. “Your parents?”
“That’s them. They’re retired in Arizona now.”
“They look nice...”
“What about your parents?” he asked.
“They both passed away,” she replied. “My aunt is the closest family I’ve got.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She didn’t answer but slowly turned away from the refrigerator and accepted the hot mug of taupe coffee with a smile of thanks. She took a slow sip, her long lashes brushing her cheeks as she closed her eyes in a sigh of contentment.
“You never did put down your roots here in Haggerston, did you?” she asked, her eyes popping open.
Matt blinked in surprise at the question. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean your brother is here with his wife, and you grew up in Haggerston, right?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“You even knew my grandmother.” She cradled the mug between her palms. “But this place doesn’t have a hold on you.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes that hold can feel claustrophobic.”
She nodded and buried her nose in the mug once more, averting her gaze as she took another sip of coffee.
“I don’t mean—” He stopped, uncertain how to even explain himself. “I’m not saying that a home and a family don’t appeal.”
“No?”
“Thing is, I don’t have a family of my own here in Haggerston. My brother does. My cousins do. When you’re younger you feel connected to a place for the extended family there. I guess I got to the point where I realized without a wife and kids of my own, it didn’t matter as much.”
“Always the single guy at the family picnic?” she asked with a wry smile.
“Pretty much.” He laughed softly, but his heart felt heavy. Maybe he wasn’t even the marrying type. It wasn’t logical, he knew, but he hadn’t been able to deliver Natalie Martin to her parents in time, and that had changed something inside him. If the Martins had lost their daughter because he’d been too late, did he deserve kids of his own after that? Maybe he was better off being the single, reliable guy, protecting the community and doing penance for his inability to protect little Natalie.
Except he wasn’t even doing penance, was he? He was trying to move on the only way he knew how—getting out of Dodge.
“So, how about you?” he asked with a slow smile. “You’re just as single as I am.”
“True. So I can commiserate with being the only single one at a family picnic. It’s lonely.”
“So, why haven’t you moved on yet?”
She wasn’t the kind of woman who would stay single long, unless she wanted it that way. She was pretty, confident, had a smile that sparkled through her eyes—even he was intrigued, and he was determined to leave town.
“Chris couldn’t handle it. Not yet.” She grew serious. “Things have been hard enough for him without his mother starting to date. What he needs right now is some stability, and I’m going to provide that.”
“I get it.” He nodded slowly.
She shot him a teasing grin. “And as you pointed out so gently before, what I need right now are friends.”
Maybe it was the testosterone pumping through his system, but that sounded like a veiled request for help, and for once, that was something he knew how to fix.
“I could help you out with that,” he offered.
“You want to introduce me to some people?” she asked.
“I want to take you to my brother’s barbecue tomorrow night.” He glanced out the window at the rain. “Weather permitting, of course.”
“Really? I don’t want to put you out.” She shook her head. “No, it’s too much, Matt. We aren’t your problem.”
“You’re wearing my clothes at the moment,” he said with a roguish grin. “That makes you at least partially my problem.”
“But your brother might not like having a complete stranger crash his party.”
“Are you kidding? They’ll be thrilled to see me with a woman. In fact, if you do me a favor and don’t tell Gloria that you’ve figured out what a lout I am, I could weasel out of her setups for a month at least. Besides, there will be a lot people there you’ll want to meet.”
Rachel laughed and shook her head. “My clothes should be dry—” She turned toward the laundry room, where the dryer rumbled softly.
“I’m serious. It’s not a family affair. My brother is having some friends over. I know everyone. They’re very nice and they’ll all love you. C
hris can play with the other kids. Maybe some of them will go to his school in the fall.”
She turned back, her dark gaze resting on him thoughtfully as if she was internally debating. “Sure, that sounds really nice, Matt. Thank you.”
“Not a problem. Are you hungry?”
“I’ve got to get back and pick up Chris from my aunt’s place. I said I’d be back by now.” She shook her head apologetically.
“Of course. Looks like the rain is letting up, too.”
Outside the window, the rain had lightened to a drizzle and an errant ray of sunlight was already breaking through the cloud cover. The dryer buzzed and Rachel turned toward the doorway of the kitchen, her wet hair leaving damp patches on her shoulders. She disappeared into the laundry room and Matt turned back to the window.
He felt a surge of success that she’d accepted his invitation. It wasn’t a date—they both knew that—but he still liked the idea of having her with him, somehow. Just as long as he didn’t get attached.
* * *
That evening, Rachel sat on the porch next to Aunt Louise, a jug of iced tea between them. The shadows stretched long, and birds twittered their evening songs. Some kids still played in the street, although Christopher had been in bed for an hour already, and Rachel stretched her legs out and rested her head against the back of the Adirondack chair.
The day had taken its toll on her, and Rachel closed her heavy eyelids, breathing in the honeyed scent of rain-drenched lilacs. It was the same scent from the thunderstorm, and it brought back thoughts of Matt Bailey—his blue eyes clouded by complicated emotions and tension along his jawline, accentuating his rugged good looks.
“How is Chris doing...with the move and all?” Louise asked, taking a slow sip of the sweet brew.
Rachel’s eyes fluttered open and she glanced toward her aunt. “I honestly don’t know.”
“He seems happy.” Louise whisked a fly away from her glass.
“He always seemed happy enough.” She deposited her glass on the table between them. “He’d laugh and play, and then I’d get a call from the school—”
Rachel’s mind went back to the uncomfortable meetings with the principal and the school counselor. Chris was getting into fights, had learned some choice words that he spelled wrong but still insisted on writing all over his desk, and showed all the signs of a child in distress. She couldn’t help feeling responsible, having just explained to him about his adoption. It was her fault, and she knew it. She’d explained everything too late.
Love Inspired May 2015 #2 Page 45