As the guys gush over the muffins, and her attention is on them, I can’t stop staring at her shoulders. Last week, in the storage room, she had on a T-shirt and pants. She was pretty even with her hair up in a ponytail and wearing no makeup. But today, in a halter top and a pair of shorts, with her hair flowing halfway down her back, she’s gorgeous. But when she smiles, it doesn’t touch her eyes. Is she still upset about last week?
Men from the next shift walk into the garage.
Emma takes that as her cue to leave. “Well, I just wanted to say thank you,” she says.
I don’t want her to leave. But I can’t think of a reason to get her to stay. “No need. It’s our job.”
“I doubt that single-handedly taking on a gunman is part of your job description, Lieutenant.”
I almost correct her and have her call me Brett. But damn, I like the way she called me Lieutenant. I never thought that word could be sexy until she said it. “I guess it’s not, but we do what we have to.”
Cameron takes a huge bite from a muffin and mumbles around his food, “Emma, if you ever need to unload more baked goods, bring ’em over.”
Her lips crack into a half-smile. “I’ll remember that.” She turns and heads for the exit. “Thanks again,” she says, her eyes locking with mine.
I nod. For some reason, all words leave my brain when she’s looking at me like this. She maintains the connection another few seconds … until she almost trips over the bushes lining the driveway. She blushes and hurries away.
“Daaaaaaamn,” Denver drawls. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I felt some serious heat between the two of you.”
The others nod in agreement.
“You’re full of it,” I tell them.
“I think you’re full of it,” Justin says. “Full of luuuuuuve.” He puckers his lips and blows air kisses.
“Cash is most definitely hot for teacher,” Cameron says.
“Get back to work.” I’m annoyed at their joking around. “We have to pack this shit up before next shift.”
Twenty minutes later, I leave the firehouse with my duffle bag over my shoulder and see Emma standing next to a bench across the street. She’s not looking at me. She’s looking down the street in the direction of the school.
I watch her for a minute. She takes a step, then stops and looks at the sky. Then she shakes her head in frustration and sits on the bench, putting her head in her hands.
I cross the street, drop my bag, and sit next to her. “Everything okay?”
She looks up, shocked that I’m sitting by her side. “Brett … uh…” Her gaze shifts to the sidewalk, and with her eyes, she follows it to the end of the street.
“You still haven’t gone back to the school, have you?”
She shakes her head. “The firehouse is as far as I’ve gotten.”
I look into her beautiful, tired eyes. “This last week has been hard on you, hasn’t it?”
“Yes.” She stares at the firehouse. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m the biggest wimp. You probably deal with traumatic situations all the time, but what happened—it was the first time since my dad died that I was up-close and personal with something horrible.”
“I hardly think you’re a wimp, Emma. The man held a gun to your head. Of course you’ve been traumatized.”
“So how come you aren’t?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. As first responders, we’re trained to handle stressful situations. It’s not that I wasn’t scared—I was—but I put that aside to do my job.”
“You were really scared?”
“Hell yes, I was. I might have had to change my shorts when I got home.”
She laughs.
God, I love her laugh. It makes me want to reach out and touch her.
“I did not need to know that about you,” she says.
“I’m kidding. But in all seriousness, I was scared shitless.”
“Somehow that makes me feel better,” she says.
“I’m glad. I guess I’ve done my good deed for the day.”
She smiles and this time her lips curve even higher.
I nod in the direction of the school. “What do you say I walk with you?”
Her eyes close briefly. “No. I’m not ready.”
“Can I walk you somewhere else then?”
She leans forward, planting her hands on the bench on either side of her as she rocks back and forth. “I’m going to sit here for a while.”
I stand and sling my bag over my shoulder. “Well, if you think you might be ready on Friday, I get off shift at this same time.”
She looks back in the direction of the school. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Either way, I still get off at this time.” I stare at her, hoping she gets the meaning behind my words. I want to see her again. I want to see her again so badly, it’s hard to find the words.
“Okay,” she says.
“See you around, Emma Lockhart,” I say.
“See you around, Lieutenant.”
I can’t help smiling the entire way home.
Chapter Ten
Emma
I’m not a nervous person by nature, the past eleven days notwithstanding. So as I put freshly baked croissants into a bag to drop them by the firehouse, I wonder if it’s the daunting possibility of making it all the way to school this morning that has me on edge, or is it the thought of seeing Lt. Brett Cash again?
He specifically told me to come back this morning. Didn’t he? Then again, he’s a firefighter. A civil servant. He probably thinks it’s his duty to help me make it to the school. He’s being nice.
But when we looked at each other …
No, Emma. Don’t go there.
It’s not that I haven’t thought about a serious relationship with a man. I have. I’ve often wondered what kind of man it would take to make me want to consider someone as a father for Evelyn. Once I got over the fact that Stefan didn’t want her—or me—I tried many times to put a face on the fantasy that would be our happily ever after.
But I’ve never been able to. Not until my dream last night.
Even if the gorgeous lieutenant was interested, I could never allow it to happen. I mean, he’s a firefighter.
I finish filling the bag with croissants as Mom comes into the kitchen, ready for work.
She raises an eyebrow. “Baking for the third time this week. Are you feeling better?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“You’ve been back to school then?”
“I’m trying, Mom.”
She wraps her arms around me from behind, giving me that supportive hug she’s so good at. “You’ll get there. Maybe Evelyn coming home Sunday will be just the thing you need to turn everything around.”
I’ve missed my daughter so much. Although I dread telling her what happened, I’ve never been more excited to see her.
“Want me to go with you today?” she asks. “I don’t have to be at work for another hour.”
“This is something I have to do myself.”
It’s a lie. Deep down, I hope it’s something I get to do with the gorgeous lieutenant. But I can’t tell her that. She’d get all excited and want to know every detail. Then she’d be the meddling matchmaker mom, pushing me to do things I don’t want to do. Hell, she’d probably plan our wedding before I even found out if he likes me.
Which he probably doesn’t. And even if he does, it wouldn’t matter.
It’s not that I don’t bring men home. I do. But I don’t ever introduce them to my mother or Evelyn. The rule is strict: in after my daughter’s bedtime and out immediately … well … after.
Mom knows I have them here. Our townhouse is old, and the floorboards creak. I’m just glad Evelyn is a heavy sleeper.
I pick up the bag and move toward the door when Mom’s words stop me. “Something’s different,” she says, eyeing me up and down.
“What are you talking about?”
She studies my face. “Is that mascara?”
<
br /> I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mom. Women have been wearing it for a hundred years.”
“Hmm,” she mumbles. “And that’s the shirt I got you for your birthday. You said you were saving it for a special occasion.” She glances at the bag. “Who are you taking those to?”
“I’m hoping it is a special occasion today. These are for the summer staff at the front office … if I get there.”
“You wore your new shirt for the summer staff at school?”
“I guess I did.” I look at the clock over her shoulder, not wanting to be late. Brett’s shift ends in ten minutes.
She follows the direction of my eyes. “In a hurry?” she asks suspiciously.
“I want to get this over with, Mom.”
She finally drops the third degree. “Good luck, honey.”
“Thanks. Have a nice day at work.”
I get to the firehouse as the trucks are backing into the garage. They’re busy. Maybe I should come back another time.
“Emma!” a familiar voice shouts as I walk away.
I turn around to see a dirty, sweaty Brett talking to me from the passenger seat of one of the trucks. Our eyes meet and that same feeling I had the other day—the one where butterflies are doing somersaults in my stomach—is back in full force.
I watch his truck retreat into the garage and then he opens the door and jumps down. I can’t look away as he removes his heavy coat, pants, and boots. I have to keep myself from ogling him. Because apparently sweaty, dirty Brett is even more gorgeous than regular Brett.
“Yes!” one of his buddies says, eyeing my bag. “More goodies?”
I hand it to him. “I hope you like croissants.”
“Sweet,” he says. Then he kisses my cheek and takes them inside.
“Sorry about that,” Brett says, approaching me. “Justin has always been a ladies’ man.”
“It’s okay,” I say, laughing. “I’m glad he’s enjoying the food.”
“Everyone raved about the muffins. Did you really make them yourself, or did you stop at a bakery?”
“I made them. I do a lot of baking.”
He looks over my slim figure. “You obviously don’t eat what you bake.”
My face heats up under his perusal. “I didn’t mean to bother you while you were working.”
“Shift’s over. Give me fifteen minutes to clean up. Why don’t you wait for me on our bench?”
Our bench. I’m not sure why those two words affect me so much, but they do. “Okay.”
He goes around the corner, but there are windows that separate the hallway from the garage, and I can still see him. He runs down the hall. That puts a huge smile on my face.
Nine minutes later—but who’s counting?—Brett joins me on the bench, popping the last bite of a croissant into his mouth. “This is really good. If you ever wanted to moonlight as a baker, you’d make a fortune.”
“Nah, they have to be up at like four in the morning. I’m not really a morning person.”
He eyes me speculatively. “What kind of person are you, Emma Lockhart?”
I blush at his seductive use of my full name. “I don’t know. A regular one, I guess.”
He laughs. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Were you at a fire this morning?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“You were dirty when you came back.”
“A dump truck full of dirt overturned in a ditch, and the driver was pinned underneath it.”
“Oh, gosh. That’s horrible.”
“He’s fine. We got him out. But Mrs. Petrucha’s flowerbed may never be the same.”
“Mrs. Petrucha?”
“Her house is on the corner and her yard literally has a ton of dirt on it.”
“Oh, no.” I giggle.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
My heart pounds. Please don’t ask me out.
“The other day—did you know I was going to be on shift? I mean, did you specifically come to the firehouse to see me, or was it to give a general thank you to everyone?”
“I may have called ahead to see if you were there,” I admit. “I wanted to thank you for saving Carter. He’s alive because of you.”
“He’s alive because of you, too.” He frowns. “I heard he lost his leg though.”
“I heard that too. But he’s young. He’ll adapt.”
“The department is putting together a fundraiser to help pay for a prosthetic leg.”
My eyes light up. “They are? Please let me know how I can donate.”
“Sure. I think it will be a picnic later this summer with games and auctions and stuff.”
“I’d love to help. Maybe I could sell some of my baked goods. Between Evelyn, and my mom, and me, we could make enough to set up an entire booth.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll let the organizer know.” He stands up and gestures down the street. “What do you say? Are you ready?”
I look at the ground and then at him. Then I nod.
He holds his hand out. When I put my hand in his, I feel I can do anything. It’s as if holding his hand gives me some kind of superpower. But once I’m standing, he lets go.
Brett leads, walking slowly, letting me take this one step at a time. The closer we get to the school, the faster my heart beats.
He tries to make conversation with me, but I’m too busy thwarting a panic attack to hear him.
When we turn the final corner, and I see Shettleman’s Grocery and the school, my legs buckle. Brett holds onto me and helps me to a nearby bench. “Put your head down near your knees. Remember the breathing we did last week, when I had you count to five? Let’s do that now.”
As I calm down, my heart rate slows. Especially when he runs a soothing hand up and down my back. But then it beats faster for an entirely different reason.
“I’m proud of you for making it this far. We’ll sit here and look at the school today. Maybe next time we’ll cross the street. You don’t have to do everything at once.”
I let out a sigh of relief. He gets me. This big, tough fireman who saves dump truck drivers and confronts lunatic gunmen, thinks it’s okay that I can’t walk into the school yet. “Next time?”
“My next shift is on Monday. I have Tuesday off. I mean, if you’re free.”
“Tuesday sounds great. I’ll bring scones.”
He laughs. “You’re going to spoil us.”
Then we just sit. We don’t even talk. We gaze at the school across the street.
So many things could have happened differently that day. What if I’d been quicker about cleaning up my classroom? I’d never have gotten caught up in everything. What if I’d moved the cart fully out the door? Then maybe Carter wouldn’t have gotten shot.
What if the gunman had never robbed that store? His name, I read in the paper, is Kenny Lutwig.
What if none of it had happened? I’d never have met the man sitting next to me.
Maybe everything happens for a reason, my father says in my head. He was a huge believer in fate, or destiny, or whatever. Maybe the way he met my mom had something to do with that attitude. They met when a dispatcher sent his company to the wrong address when he was a probationary firefighter.
Every time something bad happened to me, he would try to find the good in it. I fell off my bike and sprained my wrist when I was five, and I met Julie Kirkland at the emergency room. She had fallen off her bike too. It turned out she lived just a block away, and we became fast friends. Dad always reminded me that if I hadn’t fallen off the bike, I never would have met her.
When I was seven, Mom lost her job. She was devastated. She was a sales rep for a pharmaceutical company. When she couldn’t find a similar job, she volunteered at local charities. Twenty years later she is the chairperson for one of the largest charities in the city. I can almost hear Dad saying, “I told you so, sweet pea.”
“What is it?” Brett asks. “You look like you want to say something.”
I sh
ake my head. “Nothing. It’s just that … life is strange.”
He laughs again, and I realize how much I like hearing him laugh. “That it is,” he says, smiling at me.
And as he looks at me, I’m left wondering if he, like my dad, believes in destiny.
Chapter Eleven
Brett
I’ve never looked forward to being on a shift as much as this one. Specifically, getting off the shift, because Emma will be here. With scones.
But it’s the not the scones I’m excited about.
For the first time in a long time, I’m interested in a woman. I find it hard to sleep in my cot just thinking about her.
Amanda and I were together for eight years. We dated for three, were married for five, and were separated for the better part of this last year before our divorce became final. I have to go back to when I was twenty-one to remember what it was like to be with someone other than my ex-wife.
The last girl I dated was named Kristin. She was the daughter of my captain at the time. I had fun with her at first, but she became needy and clingy. I wanted to ditch her, but she was the captain’s daughter. In hindsight, I never should have dated someone related to one of my superiors. It took months to get rid of her. I tried to become a boring person that no girl would want to hang out with. It was torture. I never went out. I watched mindless television. I took her to the same cheap, Italian restaurant when we went out to eat. Eventually she broke up with me as planned. The next week, a friend introduced me to Amanda, and I thought I’d hit the jackpot.
Oh, how wrong I was.
I try not to be too bitter. I did get Leo out of the deal. If I’d never met Amanda, he wouldn’t exist. So I can’t begrudge that relationship.
I smile, thinking of the tiny person who is the best part of my life. I love how curious he is. I love his passion. His wit.
Would he like Emma? He tends not to like most women. Apart from Bonnie, he’s around men most of the time. My friends. My coworkers. Leo is at the firehouse so much, he’s our unofficial mascot. I wouldn’t be surprised if he followed in my footsteps and became a firefighter.
I think about what it would be like to have a woman in my life. In Leo’s life. Emma has a child, so I know she likes kids. And she seems compassionate. She fought hard to save Carter.
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