“Not from where I’m standing.”
“You’re kneeling.”
“Go bother someone else.”
“You get that honor this morning, Thomas.” He took the sheet out of her hands. “You tape. I hold.”
Leanne preferred doing things on her own. Well, not climbing. A partner came in handy then. Still, having an extra set of hands to wrap these barrels was…helpful. “Be careful, if you keep this up, you may find yourself on the committee.”
He positioned the paper. “Committee?”
Leanne tore off a piece of tape. “The toy drive committee.”
“There’s a committee?”
“Me, myself and I.” She taped the paper in place. “But I have lots of helpers.”
“I’m more of a helper type than a committee person.”
“Most guys are.” Leanne placed the tape in the supply box. “If donations come in, I’ll need a few strong men with trucks.”
“Now it’s men with trucks.” An irresistibly charming grin lit up his face. “Santa’s got his work cut out with you.”
Leanne picked up the roll of red ribbon and wrapped it around the first barrel. “I’m actually pretty easy…”
Welton’s eyebrows shot up.
“…where Santa is concerned,” she finished.
CHAPTER THREE
LEANNE tied a neat bow around the first barrel then decorated the second one. “All done.”
Christian nodded. “Now it’s my turn.”
The blue of his uniform deepened the color of his eyes. She wished she hadn’t noticed that. “What do you mean?”
Her voice came out harsher than she intended, but something about Welton was messing with her senses. Her brain. Her hormones. She didn’t like it.
“Things were so crazy yesterday when we arrived at the Sno-Cat, I never said thank you,” he said. “I appreciate all you did up there, Thomas. The rest of the team, too.”
“You’re welcome. Next time—”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” he interrupted. “Not if I can help it.”
“Right answer, rookie.”
He smiled at her.
She smiled back.
Time seemed to stop. Something passed between them.
Gratitude. That was all it was. On both their parts.
Yet his gaze lingered, as if there was something more.
Leanne looked at the wrapping paper lying on the ground.
This was Welton for goodness’ sake. Sure, he was a capable, sexy guy, reliable even for a rookie, but not when it came to romance. If she were dating him, she wouldn’t be satisfied with just a date, just fun. She’d want all of him.
Not that she was in the market for a romance, Leanne reminded herself. She was taking a break from the dating scene.
She placed the red ribbon into the supply box. “I need to clean up before the news crew shows up.”
“Yeah, I don’t want anything to get in the way of my fifteen minutes of fame,” Welton teased.
“I’m sure you’ll have a legion of fans by the time the fifteen minutes are over.”
“A compliment?”
“Maybe.”
His smile widened. “I’ll take it.”
Quite the charmer. She didn’t know whether to envy the women he dated or feel sorry for them.
“I’m going to pay you back for everything you did yesterday,” Christian said. “Not necessary.”
He shrugged, looking unconvinced. “The least I can do is share the spotlight today.”
Her stomach clenched. “Really not necessary.”
“It is,” Welton admitted. “Chief wants you and Paulson to be part of the interviews if you’re not out on calls.”
Oh, no. Her heart sank to the tip of her steel-toed zip-up boots. “Interviews aren’t my thing.”
“Come on,” Welton encouraged. “Someone like you can’t be camera shy.”
Someone like her. One of the guys. But the guys didn’t know everything about her. She wanted to keep it that way.
Leanne shrugged, but she didn’t feel indifferent. She’d put the past behind her, but she hadn’t forgotten everything. She couldn’t. Her life had been changed in an instant, but the media hadn’t cared. They’d only wanted the story, the inside scoop. No matter what it had taken to get the information.
She shivered at the memory.
Christian touched her shoulder. “Cold?”
Leanne shrugged away from his hand. Straightened. She didn’t like appearing weak. To others or herself. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
She pressed her lips together. “I am.”
Welton didn’t look convinced.
Odd. Most of the guys around here took Leanne at her word. “Really.”
His assessing gaze suggested Welton didn’t believe her. His perceptiveness over her uneasiness and his seeming to care how she felt disconcerted her.
“Hello.” A beautiful blond woman entered the station. Her high-heeled boots clicked against the floor. Two men, carrying bags and camera equipment, followed. The scent of her jasmine perfume wafted through the air. “I’m Rachel Murray with the Portland Evening News.”
Leanne stood. She wiped her sweaty palms on the thighs of her pants then shook the woman’s hand. “Leanne Thomas.”
Rachel’s straight teeth gleamed as if they’d been recently whitened. “I just interviewed your rescue team leader, Sean Hughes. He had wonderful things to say about you. Not only as a paramedic, but one of the best and fastest climbers with OMSAR.”
Leanne shifted her weight. “Thanks.”
Rachel turned her attention to Welton. “And you’re Christian Welton. I’d recognize you anywhere.”
He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Rachel. Thanks for coming all the way from Portland.”
She didn’t release his hand. “It’s our pleasure. I’m sure you’ve been inundated with interview requests.”
Christian pulled his arm away. “A few.”
“I was told another member of the rescue team works here, too,” Rachel said.
He nodded. “Bill Paulson. He’s around here somewhere.”
“Why don’t you get set up,” Rachel told her crew, who went to work. As she looked around, her gaze zeroed in on the red-and-white toy barrels. “Those look Christmassy. What are they for?”
“Drop-off bins. The fire station runs an annual toy drive for needy children in Hood Hamlet and the surrounding areas.” Leanne didn’t like talking to the media, but she would for the toy drive’s sake. “Unfortunately donations are down this year.”
“That’s too bad,” Rachel said.
Leanne nodded. “I’m hoping more toys come in soon.”
As Rachel shrugged off her wool coat, Welton lent a hand.
Interesting. Leanne had never noticed his manners before. Or maybe he wanted to hook up with the pretty reporter. He had a little time left until the December breakup deadline.
“Hey, I have an idea.” The slow, seductive smile spreading across Welton’s face told Leanne she’d nailed the motivation behind his gentlemanly behavior. “Any chance you could mention the toy drive on camera, Rachel?”
Okay, that was unexpected. Leanne hadn’t thought he’d been paying attention to what she’d said, or cared.
Rachel wet her glossed lips. “Are you involved in the toy drive, Christian?”
“He’s been a big help,” Leanne answered for him. She wasn’t about to blow this opportunity.
“I helped decorate the barrels,” he said.
“Really?” Rachel sounded intrigued.
Welton gazed into the reporter’s eyes as if she were the only woman in the world. And he the only man.
A lump formed in Leanne’s throat. Not one man had ever looked at her that way. She imagined it would feel pretty terrific.
“Every kid should have a present to open on Christmas.” Welton’s gaze remained on Rachel. “I’d appreciate anything you could say about it. S
o would Leanne. She heads the committee.”
“Oh, you’re on the committee, Christian,” Rachel assumed wrongly. “That’s wonderful.”
He looked uncomfortable. “Anything for the kids.”
Rachel leaned toward him. A combination of eagerness and attraction gleamed in her eyes. “I’d be happy to say something. Publicity could spur donations and help your committee.”
His committee. Leanne bit back a smile. She would make Welton an honorary member so he wouldn’t be stretching the truth too much.
“That would be great.” He pushed a stray strand of hair off Rachel’s face. “There now I can see your pretty eyes better.”
The reporter released a swoon-worthy sigh. “Thanks.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Leanne watched the exchange with interest. Welton impressed her. Being a player had its advantages.
“You know what,” Rachel said to Welton as if Leanne wasn’t there. “I’ll talk to a friend at the newspaper and a couple of Portland bloggers about the toy drive, too.”
He grinned. “The more the merrier.”
Oh, he was good. Highly skilled in the art of seduction, no doubt. If that was what it took to fill the drop-off bins with toys, so be it. Still Leanne felt sorry for Rachel Murray.
The poor reporter had just fallen for Welton. Hard. But what woman wouldn’t with him pouring on the charm like that. Rachel would be disappointed if she expected a holiday romance to develop. Though maybe she would be the one Christian kissed on New Year’s Eve.
The thought left Leanne a little unsettled. She shook it off.
“We’re ready,” the cameraman said.
Rachel smoothed her skirt. “Why don’t one of you grab Bill Paulson, and we can get started with the interview?”
“You up for it, Thomas?” Christian asked.
Leanne knew he wasn’t talking about getting Paulson. The Portland Evening News broadcasted across Oregon and Southwest Washing ton. If Rachel Murray was willing to give the toy drive a plug and up the chances of children in need getting a present for Christmas, an interview was the least Leanne could do. Even if it was the last thing she wanted to do.
She took a resigned breath. “Yeah, Welton. I’m up for it. I’ll get Paulson and be right back.”
Rachel Murray was hot. Exactly Christian’s type.
Her perfectly-applied makeup accentuated pretty, elegant features. His hands itched to run through her mane of blond hair. Her killer body would look better naked. She’d also asked reasonably intelligent questions these past five minutes. Beauty, brains and breasts—a perfect combination.
So why was he more interested in how nervous Thomas looked right now than the sexy reporter?
Christian always tried to pretend Thomas wasn’t a woman, but today, he couldn’t. She seemed almost vulnerable, spurring his protective instincts.
“Anything you wish you would have had with you in the snow cave, Christian?” Rachel asked.
“A better first aid kit and a charged cell phone would have come in handy. More food, too.” He felt a little embarrassed about having to be rescued. “Otherwise, we were good.”
Rachel turned her attention to Thomas. “Rescues in this time of year don’t always turn out this well, do they, Leanne?”
“No, they don’t,” Thomas agreed. “Three climbers lost their lives in December 2009. Three more back in 2006.”
She might be nervous, but she was hanging in there. Christian respected that, respected her.
“Wasn’t there an OMSAR member who also died in a winter climbing accident?” Rachel asked.
Thomas’s features tightened. She nodded once.
“Yes.” Bill Paulson took over without missing a beat, but his tone sounded strained. “Nick Bishop, a member of OMSAR, and Iain Garfield, a talented, young alpinist, died a few days before Christmas eight years ago.”
Christian hadn’t heard about these two climbers before, but they’d obviously impacted both Thomas and Paulson.
“Very sad,” Rachel empathized. “How does knowing others died while you and your cousin, Owen, survived make you feel?”
“Thankful,” Christian said truthfully. “Grateful. Lucky.”
“Do you think anything other than luck was involved in the rescue, Leanne?” Rachel asked.
“Christian and Owen had the skills to build a shelter to protect them from the environment and the proper gear to keep them warm, hydrated and fed until help could arrive,” Thomas said. “Those things go a long way to ensuring a good outcome.”
She’d never ever used Christian’s first name before. It sounded…strange. He was used to her calling him Welton, as the other guys at the station did.
“Even with right equipment and proper training, nothing is ever guaranteed,” Bill added. “A little luck and good karma always come in handy on the mountain.”
“What about Christmas magic?” Rachel asked.
Thomas inhaled sharply. A sideways glance passed between her and Paulson.
“Sean Hughes said a little Christmas magic could have contributed to the rescue’s happy ending,” Rachel continued. “What do you think about that, Leanne?”
Christian straightened. She wasn’t the person to answer this question.
“Everyone in Hood Hamlet seems to have an opinion about Christmas magic,” Thomas stated without any emotion in her voice. “Whatever the reasons behind the mission’s success, we’re all happy Christian and his cousin are safe.”
“Your opinion, Bill?” Rachel asked.
“A lot of things that could have easily gone wrong up there didn’t,” Paulson said. “Owen had no spinal or head injuries. The cell phone battery didn’t die until the GPS coordinates had been given to the 911 operator. The weather broke long enough so we could head up the mountain and bring them down. Seems a bit more was involved than simply dumb luck.”
Thomas pressed her lips together. Her eyes darkened, but not to that deep, sexy chocolate color from yesterday.
Something was bringing her down. She looked sad, as if she were hurting. Christian didn’t understand why, and he fought the urge to reach out to her.
“You were the one stuck in the snow cave for two nights, Christian,” Rachel said. “Do you think Christmas magic helped you and Owen get off the mountain alive?”
He shifted his gaze from Thomas to the reporter. “Finding yourself in a situation with everything out of your control, you get religious fast. Making deals and promises you know you can’t keep,” he admitted. “I have to agree with Sean and Bill. It seems like something more was going on up there. I’ve only lived in Hood Hamlet a little over a year. But if the dedicated members of OMSAR want to call it Christmas magic, so will I.”
“There you have it. Christmas Magic on the Mountain.” Rachel beamed. “Christian and Leanne are members of the Hood Hamlet Fire Department’s Christmas Toy Drive committee. Why don’t you help them drum up some magic of their own by donating a new, unwrapped toy and make a needy child’s Christmas morning a little brighter? Drop-off barrels are located here at the fire station. This is Rachel Murray for the Portland Evening News in the quaint Alpine village of Hood Hamlet.”
The light on the camera went off. The news crew put away their gear.
Damn. Christian had been called out on camera as a member of the toy drive committee. No way of getting out of that now.
“Great interview,” Rachel said.
“I appreciate the plug about the toy drive,” Leanne said, then walked away.
“Yeah, thanks,” he agreed. “Very nice of you.”
“My pleasure.” Rachel smiled at him. “I’m happy to help.”
He heard a familiar laugh. Thomas spoke with the cameraman—a tall guy with a beard. She laughed again. He did, too.
Christian rocked back on his heels. The cameraman was definitely interested in Thomas. Flirting. The guy’s gaze practically devoured her.
First Owen. Now this guy. What was going on?
“I’
ll give you my number in case you need anything,” Rachel said.
Christian turned his attention to the reporter. The way she batted her eyelashes emphasized the amount of mascara she wore. So different from…
He glanced at Thomas. She’d stopped talking to the cameraman. Had the guy asked her out? Christian hoped not. She could do better.
“Christian?” Rachel asked.
“I’d like your number.” He would take her out for plugging the toy drive even though she’d landed him a spot on Thomas’s committee. “Let me see your phone.”
Rachel handed him a fancy smart phone protected in a silver-and-turquoise hard case.
He texted himself and handed her back the phone. “Now you have my number. And I have yours.”
“Use it, okay?” She and her crew left the fire station.
“That went well,” Christian said to his coworkers.
“She’s hot.” Paulson raised a brow. “Did you get her number?”
As Christian nodded, Thomas shot Welton an aggravated look. Interesting. Maybe she was jealous.
“Come on, guys.” Frustration laced her words. “Christmas magic?”
Okay, not jealous, Welton realized with a twinge of regret.
“Hughes said it,” Paulson countered.
She grimaced. “Hughes is infamous for his sound bites.”
“Well, I wasn’t about to disagree with our team leader on camera,” Paulson said. “Besides, I believe it.”
Thomas sighed loudly. “Christmas magic isn’t real. If it existed, bad things wouldn’t happen up here on Christmas.”
“I’m bowing out of this conversation.” As Paulson walked toward the station’s living area, he glanced back. “If you’re smart, Welton, you’ll do the same.”
Christian brushed aside the words. He wasn’t about to let this drop. “I thought Sean Hughes had the reputation of being a Grinch in this town, not you.”
“Sean gave the appearance of being a Grinch before he met Zoe, but he would do anything for anybody,” Thomas said. “And I never said anything about not liking Christmas. I just don’t believe in magic.”
Yesterday, her red cheeks, runny nose and sweet laughter had made her seem a little more…human. The vulnerability he’d glimpsed during the interview only added to that. Now she was back to being the same old hard-nosed Thomas. He preferred the other one. “What do you believe in?”
Firefighter Under the Mistletoe Page 4