The Firefighter's Thanksgiving Wish

by Anna J. Stewart

  “That doesn’t tell me what you think, Frankie.”

  She pinched her lips tight, still gazing out at the building her father had obviously had hopes for. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  “High praise.”

  Her mouth twitched. “I was just trying to remember the last time we had all the volunteers together at one time. I’m not sure it’ll be possible. How about a compromise? I can get maybe two or three groups? I’ll aim for one group, but that’s asking the impossible.”

  “You’d have a better idea than I would,” Roman agreed. Compromise would be to everyone’s benefit. “Let me know when you’ve got it scheduled and we’ll go from there.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AFTER TWO CONVOLUTED meetings and several evaluations with the well-intentioned volunteers and the delightful pomp and circumstance of the Christmas tree-lighting ceremony, Roman began to feel as if he were a true citizen of Butterfly Harbor. Standing at the bottom of the stairs of city hall, Sheriff Luke Saxon on one side and the mayor’s assistant on the other, Roman felt what he could only describe as pride.

  The decorating frenzy had only increased throughout the town post Thanksgiving. Wreaths were festooned everywhere. Ornaments hung from trees and in windows. Lights had been strung high and extended long enough to stretch across and down streets, ensuring Butterfly Harbor could be seen from space.

  The crowd in the street and on the sidewalk tonight was significant, with at least half the town in attendance. He recognized most of the faces now and while he’d been to his share of tree-lighting ceremonies over the years, this was one of the few that hadn’t involved freezing temperatures and falling snow. Not that that had stopped some folks from bundling up in over-the-top winter jackets, scarves and hats despite the sixtyish-degree weather.

  “Gil looks in his element,” Roman muttered under his breath to Luke, who had been waving to Holly out in the crowd. The mayor was glowing as brightly as the full moon hanging low over the town. The speech Gil was giving to introduce their guest “tree lighters” was tinged with the hope and camaraderie of the season.

  “According to Holly, this is one of the few town traditions Gil hasn’t tried to change.” Luke pushed his hands into his jacket pockets and beamed as his stepson Simon escorted Mrs. Hastings up the stairs to the podium. “Simon’s been walking on air since he was asked to participate. Never knew anyone could practice pushing a button so much.”

  The idea of bringing the older and younger generations together to officially start the Christmas season in Butterfly Harbor did seem about as perfect as it got.

  Roman grinned at the sight of Holly jumping up and down, phone in hand, angling around the crowd and at her son about to take center stage. Abby and Jason Corwin, who had apparently been put on twin duty, fussed over the babies in their arms.

  “Monty mentioned you like to fish.”

  “I do.” Roman nodded. “You?”

  “When I get a chance.” Luke joined in the applause as Mrs. Hastings took her place behind the podium and beside the oversize light switch box. “How’s Saturday for you?”

  “Clear as far as I know.”

  “Great. Meet us at the marina at five. I need to be back by two to watch the twins.”

  “Appreciate the invite.”

  “I figured you could do with some male bonding. We have a poker game every other Thursday night. My father-in-law’s taking a break since he’s getting married again and plans have ramped up, so we have an opening. If you play.”

  “I play.” Given his schedule left most of his evenings free, he’d been looking for something to do other than hang out at the station with Frankie. He was having trouble reminding himself that they couldn’t be more than they were, that she was his subordinate. As Mrs. Hastings began offering a word of thanks and appreciation, Roman searched the crowd.

  It didn’t take long to find Frankie, not with that hair and that face. That stunning, currently laughing face that disappeared for a second as she ducked out of sight. When she popped back up, she was holding Phoebe MacBride, who seemed determined to grab hold of the lights above her head. Frankie’s hair was down, tumbling over her shoulders in thick waves that lifted with the gentle night breeze. The way the lights caught the gold made it look like silky, liquid fire and made him itch to touch it.

  There had been few times he’d let himself imagine a future with someone. The thought struck him as antithetical to everything he had planned for his life. He didn’t want, need or look for distractions, and while there had been women, he had to admit none had ever fascinated or irritated him as much as Frankie.

  He’d found himself waking up in time to meet her in the gym every morning, anxious to see that now-friendly smile when she walked in the door. They’d settled into a routine, despite her continued aversion to the new schedule. An aversion she had no problem vocalizing. She knew how he took his coffee, and he knew that halfway through the day she added hot chocolate to hers. He’d let her take the lead on nearly every call they’d gone out on, but she’d also stepped back to relinquish control over the “coded” calls, most of which revolved around the Cocoon Club.

  He didn’t realize he’d been staring at her until her gaze met his over the top of the crowd. She frowned at first, those brows of hers veeing so sharply he thought she might hurt herself. Then the V disappeared and she smiled again and whispered something in Phoebe’s ear that had the child looking toward him and waving.

  “That little Phoebe is a sweetheart,” Luke told him. “Kendall isn’t always great with crowds, so Frankie does stuff like this with Phoebe.” Luke leaned forward, caught his gaze. “Things going okay with you two?” Luke asked. “I heard she gave you a pretty hard time when you first got here.”

  “We worked it out,” Roman said, shrugging it off. What’s past was past and for the most part, things with Frankie were going well. “I’ve been through worse.” On the other hand, Roman wasn’t thrilled with how the woman popped into his thoughts at the most inappropriate times. He liked her. A lot. And the more he worked with her, the more he realized what a colossal mistake Gil Hamilton had made in not promoting her to chief. But Roman couldn’t let his feelings about Frankie get in the way of the job he needed to do or the plans he had. This place was just another rung on the ladder. Butterfly Harbor wasn’t for settling in; it was a launchpad. Nothing more.

  But another time? Another place? Perhaps things between them...

  Mrs. Hastings ended her speech to thunderous applause and, with Simon holding her hand, moved to the light switch.

  The crowd counted down. “Five, four, three, two...one!”

  The twenty-foot tree was suddenly ablaze with colored lights twinkling and blinking into the night.

  Cheers and applause mingled with the oohs and aahs as Butterfly Harbor officially welcomed Christmas.

  Above it all, Roman heard Frankie’s laugh ringing out over the crowd.

  That sound, Roman thought, that wonderful, lyrical, joy-exploding laugh, zinged right through him and settled somewhere north of his heart.

  “Not for you.” He didn’t realize he’d said the words out loud until Luke leaned forward to look at him.

  “What’s not for you?”

  “Nothing.” Roman shook his head, wishing the weather were cooler so he could explain the sudden rush of warmth to his face. “Just...” He glanced back at Frankie, the bright lights of the tree making her eyes glisten. “Nothing.”

  * * *

  “AUNT FRANKIE, CAN I go look at the tree?” Phoebe wiggled free of Frankie’s arms. The ceremony had come to an end and the gathered crowd broke and drifted apart in the holiday-lighted darkness. She had to admit, she’d enjoyed the tree lighting more than she thought she would, but that could be because she was seeing it through Phoebe’s eyes. The little girl routinely reminded Frankie about life’s little wonders.

 
“Sure thing. I’ll come get you in a few minutes.” She caught sight of familiar red pigtails in the crowd of kids and added, “Stay close to Charlie.”

  “’Kay!”

  Frankie turned in the hopes of getting a cup of hot chocolate and nearly collided with Roman. She jumped back as the two cups he carried nearly emptied onto both of them. “Ah, sorry. I’m such a klutz sometimes.”

  “Maybe I should have an early-warning system.”

  “Not the worst idea you’ve had.” She avoided looking up at him for more than a second. She’d gotten more than a full view of him while he’d been standing up on those steps. Roman Salazar most definitely made for a beautiful picture in his full dress uniform, medals and commendations decorating his lapel. The more she’d looked at him, the more she’d wanted to. Somehow in the space of a few weeks, she’d stopped seeing him as enemy number one and accepted him as part of her life. Her professional life, she reminded herself.

  “This is for you.” He offered her one of the paper cups. “Where’s your companion for the evening?”

  “Phoebe wanted to...” She glanced down at the cup. “Was that for her?”

  He shrugged. “Looked as if you two needed it.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you.” It was really hard to deny her attraction to him when he did stuff like this. He was so considerate it made her teeth ache. And sometimes, when he smiled at her, he made her remember the part of her life she’d let go dormant. She had never been one to dwell on her personal life—marriage, kids. She’d always assumed if it was meant to happen it would, which gave her the excuse to focus completely on her job, even when she was off shift. And darn it, she’d been okay with that. Whatever sights she had set were on a solid, practical man who worked a nine-to-five job and didn’t take risks simply by waking up. But then she had to ask herself if there could ever be anything serious with a man she either intimidated or someone she’d known so long there was no, well, spark.

  Now here came Roman Salazar, all charm and good looks and possessing a heart she suspected might be big enough to carry most of Butterfly Harbor in it. Darn it. The man was so...irritating! So well intentioned. So... Frankie sighed. So appealing. And as far as sparks? The man set them off simply by entering a room.

  Thank goodness he was her boss.

  “So this was nice,” Roman said, and Frankie had to hide her smile behind her hot chocolate. He really was terrible at the small-talk thing.

  “I have to admit, it’s one of my favorite nights of the year. Bigger turnout than usual. Probably because of Mrs. Hastings.”

  “And Simon?”

  Frankie grinned and toasted him with her cocoa. “And Simon.”

  She looked around, taking in the still-milling crowd and the group of kids surrounding the tree. The faint sound of Christmas music from a portable speaker system drifted through the night. She saw Holly and Luke, each carrying one of the twins, hovering near the cookie table now being manned by Abby Corwin. The faint tinkling of bells had her turning as Calliope, Xander and Stella strolled by.

  The majority of the Cocoon Club were topping off their hot chocolates with a bit of peppermint schnapps. A wave of affection washed over her. How could she even think of leaving this place? Leaving her friends, her town. Her family? All because she hadn’t gotten the job she wanted. Ridiculous.

  “It occurs to me there’s something I haven’t done since I’ve been here.”

  Roman’s voice knocked her back to reality. “Oh? What’s that?”

  “I have not taken a walk on the beach.”

  Frankie arched a brow, stepped back and eyed him head to toe. “You want to do that in your uniform?”

  “Why not? Shoes come off. Clothes dry. Come with me?”

  “Ah.” She glanced around as if everyone had heard his invitation, but no one paid either of them any mind. “Yeah, sure, okay.” Truth be told, she hadn’t taken a nighttime walk on the beach in a long time. “Just hang on a minute.” She found Calliope’s distinctive hair in the crowd and practically dive-bombed her. “Hey, can you keep an eye on Phoebe for me for a little while? I’m going for a walk on the beach.”

  Calliope’s gaze barely flickered over Frankie’s head before a slow smile appeared on her lips. “Of course. Take your time.”

  “I won’t be long,” Frankie insisted.

  “Take your time,” Calliope repeated and left Frankie shaking her head as she returned to Roman’s side.

  He’d already removed his shoes and socks and was setting them behind the dividing stone wall for when they returned. “Something wrong?”

  “No. Just Calliope being all-knowing, all-seeing Calliope,” Frankie said. “You picked a good night for your inaugural walk.” She looked up at the full moon and followed its rays over the lapping waves.

  “Aren’t you going to take off your shoes?”

  “I’m on call.” It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked this question. It was, however, the first time the man asking would understand her answer. “Moonlight’s a-wasting. Let’s go.” She watched him as they stepped onto the beach, saw the familiar veil of contentment drop over his face as his feet sank ankle-deep into the cool sand.

  “I might need to make this a nightly ritual.”

  They walked a bit, down to where the waves kissed the shore, and stopped. It was there, in the shadow of the moon, she took a step back and appreciated the view in front of her. Not of the ocean, although that was glorious. No. It was the image of a man in his uniform, one hand in his pocket, another holding a cup of chocolate, bare feet sinking into the damp sand that had her heart and stomach battling it out in an odd dance.

  “How do you not do this every night?” he asked.

  “Well, until recently, I haven’t really had many nights free.”

  From over his shoulder, Roman grinned at her and her heart flipped like a dolphin at sea. “Is that your way of saying I was right?”

  She grinned back, not only because he expected it, but because she felt like it. “You know me well enough by now that if I thought you were right, I’d come right out and say it.” She pressed her lips together, drank more chocolate and tried not to laugh at the confused expression that creased his forehead. “All right. The change in schedule might be working out okay.” It didn’t mean she wasn’t called when she was off duty, but the dead hours had lessened.

  “You are magic with the compliments.” His chuckle echoed out over the water as he began to walk along the shore. “I’m beginning to understand why you love this place so much.”

  “Usually doesn’t take too long.” She moved closer to him—mainly, she told herself, to stop the heaps of dry sand from getting in her shoes. Frankie could feel the warmth of his body radiating into her. “Calliope says it just takes slowing down long enough to feel it.”

  “Feel what?”

  Frankie finished her chocolate, crumpling the cup in her hand. “The magic. Calliope’s answer,” she added. “It’s different for everyone.” The music and sounds from the crowd faded as they continued down the shore. Water lapped at his feet, caught the edges of her shoes. “I bet you miss the snow for the holidays.” Which reminded her, she needed to get a jump on her Christmas shopping.

  “Not really, no. I liked it when I was a kid,” he said. “But as an adult? I can forgo shoveling the sidewalks and trying to find my car. I will say you haven’t had a real Christmas until you’ve seen a Florida palm tree decked out for the season.”

  Frankie laughed. “We come close. Christmas a big deal, then, with your family?”

  “It used to be. Since my dad passed, not so much. He and my mom would spend days cooking. The entire family would come. One year we had thirty-seven for Christmas Eve.”

  Thirty-seven? Frankie couldn’t wrap her brain around that. “Did you make a lasagna for Christmas Eve, too?”

  “For Christmas Day. For Chris
tmas Eve, we’d celebrate with the Feast of the Seven Fishes.”

  “What’s that?” Frankie stopped walking.

  “Pretty much what it says. The story is it was a way for Italian immigrants to stay close to the old ways of home once they moved here to America. My grandmother planned months ahead for it growing up, but my mom hasn’t done it since my dad passed.”

  “I suppose that would be a lot of food for just the two of you and your aunts.”

  “Well, I haven’t made it back home for many holidays since he died.”

  She could hear the regret in his voice, and one of the last knots of resentment dropped free. “I’m sure she understands.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but no. She does not. Trust me, if you met her, you’d get it. I think part of her was hoping I wouldn’t get this job so there would be a shot at me coming home.”

  “You could go.” The words were out of her mouth before she thought better of it.

  “Still trying to get rid of me?”

  He began to walk again, but Frankie reached out, caught his arm and held him still. “No, I’m not. I mean it.” And she did. “We have enough volunteers to help cover, Roman. Like tonight with Ozzy. If you really want to, we can make it work.”

  “Thank you for that, but I’m actually looking forward to my first Christmas in Butterfly Harbor.”

  “Well, you’ll probably be disappointed. Thanksgiving’s my favorite holiday. Christmas is meh for me.”

  “Meh?” He finished his chocolate, scrunched his cup and stuffed it into his pocket. “How can Christmas be meh? You decorated like a fiend.”

  She’d decorated exactly as her father had. Just as she did every year. Because it was one way to hold onto him. She shouldn’t have said anything. Instead of trying to explain, she asked, “How old were you when your dad died?”

  “Twenty-six? No, twenty-seven.”

  “Monty and I were sixteen. Our dad loved, and I mean loved Christmas. There was not an inch of space in that station house that wasn’t wearing tinsel and garland. It was like Santa’s workshop exploded. And the house? Forget about it.”