“Well, don’t you have things to prepare?”
“All due respect, sir, but are you kidding?” She spread her arms wide. “The nursery was done my first month at home. I won’t even go into all the rest of my frighteningly obsessive nesting activities, but let me just say I actually alphabetized my pantry the other day, which is so not me. I’m scaring myself. You have to give me a small assignment. I don’t know what I’ll do if you say no.”
He steepled his fingers, resting them against his lips. “I don’t know,” he said, finally, stretching his neck side to side. “I don’t feel good about the risk.”
“There’s no risk. Please.” She actually clasped her hands together. “Anything. Busywork. Filing. Chief, my dog is even sick of having me around so much.”
Chief Dresden chuckled. “Surely you’re exaggerating.”
“Yeah? Get this. I was tossing his favorite fetch ball yesterday. He literally picked it up, carried it to the section of the gulch that runs behind my house and threw it in.”
Dresden’s gray eyebrows raised. “He didn’t.”
“Yes! And then he walked straight past me into the house and lay on the couch, belly-up, for three hours. He totally ignored me, even when I offered treats.”
They laughed together.
“Okay, that’s pretty bad.”
“Tell me about it. I think he’d take me to the shelter if he had the chance.” Erin cleared her throat, serious for a moment. She stared down at her hands in her rapidly disappearing lap. “Plus, the truth is, I need to get away from my own thoughts.”
“Thoughts? About motherhood?” His expression softened. “You’ll do fine, Erin. Every new mother is scared, but you’ll be a natural.”
“It’s not so much that. Well, sort of. But, aside from that, lately, I can’t stop the obsessive memories.” She leveled him with a plaintive stare.
“Ah. I understand.”
She knew he truly did. It wasn’t just one of those things people say. Chief Dresden had been one of the volunteer firefighters on the scene twelve years earlier. They’d had meager forces and woefully inadequate equipment back then, before they’d become a paid department, but he’d dutifully responded with all the others to the infamous prom night tragedy.
They hadn’t spoken of it more than twice in the entire time she’d been on the department, but he knew what Erin, Brody, Cagney and Lexy—not to mention their families and those of the kids who’d died—had gone through. He hadn’t lived it, but he’d seen it. That made it easier for her to bring it up.
“So many unpleasant, scary memories, Chief, and with my hormones.” She shrugged, twisting her mouth to the side. “I’m not trying to be difficult, but I need a distraction. Badly. I need my work.”
He blew out a sigh, sat back in his chair and studied her, rolling ideas around in his head. “In that case, but against my better judgment, there is one thing you can do.”
Her heart lifted. In truth, she was stunned. “Thank you. Really? Anything.”
“The city has put together a task force to meet with the hotshot pyrotechnics company they’ve hired for the Fourth of July fireworks show over the lake,” he said, disgust underlying his tone. “We need a representative at the meeting who truly understands the gravity of this season’s fire danger.”
Erin frowned. “I cannot believe they’re going to proceed with fireworks. Do they want another Hayman fire situation?” she said, referring to one of the largest wildfires in Colorado history.
“I know, I know. Apparently this company, Walker Pyrotechnics, has an incredible track record for safety. The city manager’s office thinks that’ll be enough to keep the forest from going up in flames.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “If they want to be the fire experts, I can’t stop them. I answer to both the city manager and the mayor, as you know. But I want the department’s views on the idea crystal clear and on record before it all goes down. I want the people of Troublesome Gulch to know that their fire department is adamantly against the show this year.”
Perfect. As passionate as she was about fire prevention, this would be the ideal distraction. She leaned forward. “I’m in. What do I need to do?”
“The big powwow is day after tomorrow.” He eyed her baby bulge. “Do you have a Class-A maternity uniform?”
“Yes, I borrowed Ginny Luther’s. We’re the same size.”
He nodded once, then buzzed the secretary. “I’ll have Nora get you all the data. Read it over, make some notes about all the various danger areas, every possible issue, DeLuca. Everything.”
“You got it.”
“And be ready to present a logical argument for canceling the event. Try your best, without alienating the rest of the city, of course.”
“That, sir, will be my pleasure.”
“Okay. Then, you’ve got yourself an assignment.”
“Thank you. Again. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
He aimed the pen at her and narrowed his gaze. “None of this is worth getting so worked up about that you stress the baby, understand?”
She laid a palm on her abdomen and smiled. “Not to worry. My baby is adamant about canceling the show, too.”
The chief picked up a pen and absentmindedly tapped it on his desktop. “Your buddy, Brody Austin, from TG Paramedics volunteered for the task force, too, so you’ll have backup with your position. And he’ll keep an eye on your health.”
“Even better.” She stood, not wanting to monopolize the busy man’s day. “Those pyrotechnic guys don’t stand a chance against Brody and me.”
Chapter 6
Nate moved about the city conference room with purpose, reviewing his notes and setting up his PowerPoint presentation. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting with the City of Troublesome Gulch Fourth of July Task Force—a mouthful, at best—but since he had no choice, he’d shown up early to amp up his A-game.
It wasn’t that he had a problem answering people’s safety questions—not at all. Safety had always been number one for him, hence the overwhelming demand for his business. The issue, unfortunately, was that Troublesome Gulch was in Colorado, and Colorado reminded him of the elusive and enigmatic Erin.
His jaw clenched.
The way she’d left still stung.
And it shouldn’t. That’s what made it so crazy.
It had been your classic one-night stand, nothing more. Considering that, he should be relieved there’d been no baggage to lug around afterward. The problem was, he wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy, and even before their heart-stopping sex, something about Erin had invaded his soul, touched him, entrapped him. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
Where was she?
Was she still so sad?
Did she ever think about him?
Pathetic, but he missed her. Thought about her. Gave a damn. After one freakin’ night. A blip in his history, really, but there it was. He snorted and shook his head with disdain. He really had watched too many romantic movies with his sisters. This was all their fault, and if he didn’t rein it in, he’d find himself in the position of having his “man card” revoked permanently.
He exhaled in disgust as he tested his laptop and watched the projection screen, clicking this button and that. Computer in order, he moved on to his notes, aligning them, rereading them—though he knew the presentation by heart. Busywork. And he knew it.
His thoughts, of course, kept meandering back to Erin. State of the Union in his life these days. He’d even tried increasing his dating over the past several months to banish her memory, but none of the women he’d met had been half as complex or intriguing as Erin. Plus, it wasn’t fair to compare every one of them to her, and that’s what he found himself doing.
So he stopped dating, threw himself into his work, and avoided Colorado like a bad investment whenever he could. Since he was the boss, it wasn’t difficult. He had a lot of work in the state, but he also had a posse of excellent pyrotechnicians at his dis
posal, and the power of delegation.
But, this year’s fire season along the Rocky Mountain Front Range looked frightening at best. The notion of a fireworks show in the high country struck him as ludicrous, if not outright negligent. Were it his choice, his town, he’d cancel the show altogether. Why risk tragedy? The mayor and city manager didn’t want to go that route, though.
So be it.
After he’d turned them down three separate times, the city had increased their offer to an amount he simply couldn’t refuse. But he would darn well get all his safety precautions lined up well in advance, because he wasn’t going to set the town on fire for the sake of stupid tradition. If that happened, he could guarantee no one would be blaming the city management. All fingers—including theirs—would be aimed directly toward Walker Pyrotechnics.
Therefore, a “task force meeting” called for the owner of Walker to attend, Colorado or not.
Painful or not.
Memories of Erin or not.
Suck it up, Nate.
The door opened, and a stream of people filed in. Nate stepped around the table to greet each of them and introduce himself. There were two men in suits, representing the mayor’s office and the city manager’s office, a paramedic, a cop and a secretary of some sort who fussed with the refreshments on the side table, then laid out glossy bound reports at each spot around the conference table.
He was caught up in conversation with the city manager, Walt Hennessy, when a breezy voice caught his attention.
“Sorry I’m late.”
The back of his neck prickled, and his vision wavered. Rude or not, Nate’s attention jerked toward the newcomer, gaping as the secretary assured her that the rest of them had just arrived, and she was just in time.
She being Erin.
His Erin.
His very pregnant, excruciatingly beautiful Erin, clad in—of all things—a firefighter’s uniform.
This day had officially gone down the crapper.
And it also felt like the best day of his life.
Explain that.
She turned toward him and all the color drained from her face. The two of them stood frozen, staring, and the rest of the room disappeared for Nate. Oblivious, the city manager kept talking, but it became an unintelligible blah-blah-blah in Nate’s ear, inconsequential. Annoying.
Erin’s hands shook, he noted.
Blood roared through his skull.
The paramedic stepped in and cupped Erin’s elbow, asking if she was okay, checking her pulse automatically. Was he her boyfriend? The thought tied Nate’s stomach into uncomfortable knots.
“I’m fine,” she said, in a testy tone, pulling her wrist away. “Sorry. But you all have to stop fussing over me like I’m some freakin’ invalid.”
Nate smiled tightly at the city manager. “Excuse me for a moment, sir. I apologize.”
“Of course, of course,” Walt Hennessy said, in his booming, blustery politician’s voice.
Nate crossed the room until he and Erin stood face-to-face, so close he could smell the strawberry scent of her hair. Some insane part of him wondered if he’d simply guessed correctly when he’d bought the shampoo that night so long ago, or if she’d continued using the brand he’d purchased for more sentimental reasons.
Riiiight.
Because a woman who’d leave without so much as a kiss goodbye certainly had a sentimental bent. Keep fooling yourself, Walker. There goes that man card.
“Fancy meeting you here, Erin.”
He watched her swallow once, then again. She pulled him toward a corner where they had some privacy. “Nate. I…I meant to—I tried to—”
“Wait a minute.” The paramedic looked back and forth from the two of them, confusion on his face. “You guys already know each other?”
Erin didn’t answer, just continued to gape, eyes glazed, which said everything.
Not wanting to ignore the man, Nate dropped his gaze to her very pregnant belly, let it linger, then leveled the paramedic with a wry stare. “You could say we know each other. Yes.”
“Oh. Oh,” the paramedic said, drawing the obvious conclusions. He did a few more double takes, absorbing the new info. “Er, why didn’t you—?”
Erin turned a pleading glance his way. “Brody, I…I didn’t—”
“Wait.” This Brody guy smiled at her. “Not now. Not here. It’s okay.”
“I—I promise I’ll explain everything later,” Erin said, before casting another sidelong glance at Nate.
The gesture sealed his suspicions.
He was going to be a father.
After quick calculations in his mind, his stomach convulsed. He was going to be a father damned soon. End of July.
Shaking himself back into the present, he extended his hand to the paramedic. “Nate Walker. Walker Pyrotechnics.”
The medic took his hand. “Brody Austin. Pleasure to meet you.” He peered curiously at Erin.
Watching, Nate knew he needed to broach the topic. “Listen,” he started, “this is awkward as hell, but if you two are a couple—”
“No!” they said together.
Their vehemence took him aback.
“Brody’s my best friend’s husband,” Erin said, in a reproachful tone, as if he should know that.
As if he’d know anything. “Just checking.” He didn’t want to acknowledge the relief that rushed through him so fast, it left his legs weak. He willed a polite, pleasant tone into his voice. “So, then. This isn’t the best time for conversation, as Brody said. Are you free for coffee after the meeting? Decaf for you, obviously.”
Her skin paled again. “O-of course.”
The Brody guy stepped closer, chest out, chin high. “Erin, if you need Faith and me to come along—”
“No, it’s okay,” she told him, with a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing like…whatever you’re thinking. Really. Let’s just drop it for now and get this meeting underway. Okay?”
Meeting? What meeting?
The only fireworks for Nate right now were those exploding in his brain. So much for bringing his A-game during this all-important presentation.
Chapter 7
The meeting passed in a blur of rote presentation mixed with swirling unanswerable questions and pure blinding shock. An irrational part of him resented having been put in that position, even though he logically knew neither he nor Erin would’ve planned it that way. She didn’t know he was Walker Pyrotechnics any more than he’d known she was a Troublesome Gulch firefighter. Still, during the meeting, he hadn’t treated her like the bad guy simply because of her choice of profession. It would’ve been nice if she’d extended him the same courtesy.
In any case, Nate left the city building feeling as though he’d at least conveyed his main bullet points.
Then again, who cared?
An unfamiliar glut of emotions crested and crashed inside him. Joy. Fear. Anger. Excitement.
He was going to be a father. A father.
And a damn sight better father than his ever was, too, regardless of the fact that this whole thing was so utterly unexpected. He’d always imagined he’d have a wife long before the father issue arose, but apparently fate had dealt him a different hand. Which was fine.
Still, he felt woefully unprepared. Erin’d had about seven months to get used to the idea while he was left with the cram course.
When the meeting room had cleared, they’d agreed to meet at the Pinecone Diner rather than driving together. Erin wanted to change out of her uniform—or at least that was her excuse. Naturally, he arrived first. He took a table in the rear of the place and sat, back to the wall, waiting. Thinking. Fuming.
Truth be told, the more he went over the whole convoluted situation in his mind, the more wicked-pissed he became. He’d bet more steam rose off him than off his freshly poured mug of coffee, which he gripped with angry hands.
Pregnancy aside, he couldn’t get past the fact that she’d seemed downright hostile during the task force meeti
ng. Why? What had he done to deserve that? First of all, had she been listening to him at all instead of tossing him eye daggers the whole time, she would know that he basically agreed with her stance about the fireworks show, and was doing his best to make it safe. She’d also realize that she hadn’t hired him. He couldn’t just change things based on her opinion, as much as he’d like to.
Even more aggravating, she was the one who’d run out of the hotel room without so much as a courtesy phone number on her quickly scrawled note. Had she not, they might know more about each other at this point. He was blameless in both situations.
Straight up, she should’ve told him about the baby.
Somehow. This was the information age, after all.
At the very least, she shouldn’t have lied about her ability to conceive. He’d been honest that night. Open. He’d tried to help her, to comfort her, and—stupid him—he’d truly thought they’d connected on more than a sexual level. How hard would it have been for her to leave a contact phone number instead of skulking out of that hotel room like a criminal? An e-mail address at the very least? Had he given her any red flag indications whatsoever that he harbored stalker tendencies? No way.
Then again, he’d known the game going in. This slap in the face was exactly the kind of treatment a man got when he played savior in a dive bar.
He should’ve expected it.
His fists clenched. Absurd as it sounded, he just hadn’t expected the stereotypical ending from the Erin he thought he’d begun to know that night. He’d hoped for better from her. That was the biggest shame in the whole, tangled fiasco.
The bell over the door jingled, and there she stood.
His breath caught.
She was a thousand times more beautiful carrying his child than she’d been that night. Ripe, robust, radiant. Damn it, despite it all, he couldn’t hold back his elation at seeing her again, and that weakness irked him. She stopped, scanning the crowd, waving to a few of the people she knew.
Deja You Page 6