by Dora Hiers
“Hey, boss.” Ted, the handyman assigned by Ms. Silver to work with him, propped a shoulder against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “Got a second to come look at something?”
Carson still hadn’t gotten used to the title but he liked it. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had no business showing impatience with his onsite workers. They were doing a great job keeping up with his tight schedule. If he could just get the tardy inspector out, that tightness around his chest would loosen.
That, and seeing Jillian might help. He hadn’t been by to visit all week, and by Thursday, not sneaking a sweet kiss was obviously taking its toll.
Maybe he’d pick up some fried chicken on the way out to her place, and they could squeeze in dinner, followed by a moonlit ride tonight. Just thinking on that lightened the heaviness gripping his chest.
“Sure.” Dropping his arms to his sides, he followed the lanky handyman into the bathroom.
Ted pointed a finger at the gaping hole in the wall over the bathtub. Mold.
“Ouch.” Dread pitted in Carson’s gut. He raked fingers through his hair then moved on to rub his jaws.
The first time he’d inspected this bathroom and sniffed a hint of a deeper problem, he’d suspected this might be the case but had hoped to be proven wrong. Mold remediation was never easy or cheap. This setback was going to cost them money and time, both in short supply. Good thing he’d warned Ms. Silver of his suspicion.
“How bad?” he finally ground out between gritted teeth.
“It doesn’t appear to be widespread.” His coworker flashed a light inside the hole, stuck his face next to it and peered in both directions. “Looks to be contained right here. We might get lucky and remediation won’t cost a fortune.”
Ted had proven himself a capable, hard worker, and Carson trusted his opinion.
“All right. I’ll give Ms. Silver a call and update her, and then I’ll get some remediation contractors out here, so we’ll know what we’re dealing with. Thanks, Ted.” Carson put a hand on the man’s shoulder before heading outside.
But first, he had one phone call to make before the others.
****
Jillian finished rolling out the long hose across the concrete behind the fire station. Sweat dripped off her neck and crept down her back underneath the heavy bunker coat. She handed the end to Crenshaw and retraced her steps to turn on the spigot. “Go ahead.”
“Captain couldn’t have picked a worse day for a training burn.” Crenshaw sprayed the sooty hose.
“Yeah. Well, when Captain Martin scheduled it, how was he to know we’d set a record high temperature today?” With her hands on her hips, she waited for him to finish cleaning the hose.
The pressure of the water blasted loose pebbles, blades of grass, and dirt onto the concrete, transforming the hose to its original gray.
Crenshaw kept moving along the length of the hose, one hand on the sprayer, the other swiping his face with the long gray towel hanging around his neck. After rinsing off the entire hose, he disengaged the sprayer. He nodded, signaling for her to turn off the faucet. “We’re good.”
She rolled up the garden hose and, together they walked into the station’s bay.
He shot her a weary grin, his eyes and teeth gleaming from beneath a grimy, soot-smeared face. “Let’s just hope the tones don’t go off for a bit because I plan on standing underneath a cold shower until the dinner bell rings.”
Jillian giggled. It was only three in the afternoon. “As hot as it is, that fire hose will dry out in no time. You go get your shower. I’ll take care of it.”
She chugged down the rest of her water and tossed the empty bottle in the recycling container. Shrugging out of her bunker gear, she hung the heavy coat next to Crenshaw’s, smiling at his retreating frame. He was a great guy to work with, good for an occasional chuckle to relieve tension, and she could always depend on him to watch her back on scene.
Her phone vibrated. She dug into her pocket and fished it out.
Carson?
Alarm snuck up on her, erasing the smile from her face. Since he’d started his new job, she hadn’t heard from him during the day. What was up? “Hey.”
“Hey, back.”
She detected the slightest bit of frustration in those two words. “Bad day?”
“Nah.” The ragged sigh that followed told her otherwise.
“What’s going on?”
“I was just thinking about you.”
“That’s nice to hear.” A warm feeling fluttered in her belly and worked its way out into another smile.
“I’m going through Jillian withdrawal.”
She chuckled, feeling lighter than she had in days. She hadn’t seen him at the hospital, at Remi’s, nor had he come by her house. But a learning curve for a new job was tough, and she admired him for working so hard. “I miss you, too.”
“You’re on my mind all the time, Jillian. I can’t wait to see you again.” His deep voice sounded husky over the phone.
What she’d give to see his expression right now, to feel his whiskers against her palms… Her heart thumped faster. A huge lump of emotion clogged her throat. “Really?”
“Practically every minute of every day.”
“That’s nice to know, Carson. I think about you a lot, too.” She’d never stopped.
“Would you be up for some company tonight?”
“Today’s my duty day. I’m at the fire station.”
Silence.
Carson never called during the day. Something must be wrong. Should she ask to take off work? Go home early to investigate?
She wasn’t sick and begging to go home because someone she cared about might have had a bad day would not sit well with her captain. She ran a hand across her sweaty forehead. What should she do?
“Well, then, how about tomorrow? I could pick up some fried chicken and fixings and bring it to your place. Would that work for you?”
Her heart did a flip, falling hard for this guy all over again. “That sounds fabulous!”
“I was hoping to go for an evening ride. Remi said I could saddle Pocono. Think we could squeeze that in, too? Or is that too much for one night?” His polite way of asking if she had other plans.
The only other item on her agenda was more prep work for Beauty in the Scars. Nothing that couldn’t wait until the weekend. “The evening sounds positively divine.”
“Consider it a date, then.”
A date? Her pulse rocketed. She disconnected and stepped back outside to inspect the now dry hose, willing her head not to lose control over her heart. But wasn’t it a little late for that?
She rolled the hose and reloaded it into the compartment on the truck.
She’d lost sight of her number one priority while Carson was back in town. Guard and protect her fragile heart.
She needed to put a stop to those powerful kisses. At least until she knew how it was going for him on the job. Until she saw for herself that the demands of the job and living in one place wouldn’t stress him out and catapult him to other parts of the country.
That was the only way to survive.
22
Jillian opened the glass door leading into the hospital, the cool air blasting her face, calming her nerves a tad.
Today was the day. The official launch of Beauty in the Scars.
She waved at the gray-haired receptionist sitting behind the information desk, stealing a quick glance at the clock above the desk as she continued her trek toward the elevator, her heels clicking across the tile.
Six thirty. Had Carson been able to break away from work on time? Was he here already?
She tugged at her long sleeves, pulling them down over her scars, and straightened the bottom of her shirt. Why was she more nervous than her first day as a firefighter?
Oh, Lord, fill me with Your presence, with Your peace that passes understanding. Give me boldness to proclaim Your truth. These young adults need to know that You creat
ed them and that You have a purpose for their lives. Help them to find that meaning. To find You.
A load of pressure lifted from her chest. She mashed the button to the elevator, glancing at the red number above the door. Twelve. Eleven. Ten.
“I knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging.” A deep masculine voice sounded right over her shoulder.
Carson!
She swung around to face him, grinning like a goon.
Freshly showered, his clean scent enveloped her like a refreshing summer rain. Even more so when he wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her in for a hug.
She breathed deep, and her shoulders relaxed. Lord, You knew just what I needed.
“No. I wouldn’t throw you under the bus.” Her words were muffled against his shirt.
“Mmmm. I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”
Should she confess that she’d considered stopping by the fire station to see if they were slammed with calls and needed any extra help? She smiled wide. Nah. She’d needed this, too. Just hadn’t realized how much.
He pressed a kiss to her head then slung his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his side. His voice came out husky, rumbling against her hair. “So, you ready for tonight?”
She trembled, remembering the moonlit ride they shared the other night and the sweet kisses that followed. Heat raced up her neck, along with the desire to drag his head down and capture his lips, tangle her fingers through his hair…
Whoa!
They were fixing to meet with a handful of teenagers, and here she was, all red from the passion rocketing through her veins. Attempting to regain some composure, she edged away from him. How did he always throw her slightly off balance?
The elevator doors whooshed open, and a handful of people emptied out. Carson extended an arm, gesturing for her to enter first. He followed her in, along with a crowd of men and women to pack the confined space. Carson towered above the others, squeezing next to her, but not too close, like a sentinel, protecting her from the mass of bodies jammed inside.
She held her breath, not responding to his comment as they made the trek up to the floor where the meeting was to be held. Because if she exhaled, she’d press against Carson’s rock-solid chest. Then all her resolve would disintegrate.
The doors opened, and they stepped out, along with two other couples. She released the breath she’d been holding, trying to gulp in precious air without being conspicuous.
Carson touched the small of her back, gently propelling her in the direction of the meeting room. Was he still worried she might turn around? Skip out on him and the young adults who’d committed to come tonight?
Late last night, a voice in her head had prompted her to do just that.
Who was she to mentor teens? She didn’t have any experience teaching or relating with them. What if they sneered at her scars like some of her high school classmates or scoffed at her clumsy words of wisdom?
But it wasn’t just her fear of being humiliated.
In the darkened bedroom, as she’d punched her pillow and flopped over on her side for the hundredth time, a tiny seed of revenge had sprouted, a silly question that reared its ugly head.
How would Carson feel if he was the one left waiting?
But, she didn’t play games. Not with these kids, and not with Carson.
Not when he seemed truly repentant over his more than decade long disappearing act and excited about helping with this group. She liked the new version even more than the old and didn’t want to damage the fragile thread of connection they’d weaved.
She’d finally flicked on the lamp and picked up her Bible from the bedside table. The Psalms soothed her parched, wounded soul and removed any lingering resentment.
“Am I ready?” She flashed him her brightest smile. “Yeah. I’m good. Let’s do this thing!”
His lips curved, and his dimple deepened. “That’s my girl.”
****
At the close of Jillian’s presentation, Carson pushed the chair back from the table, proud and amazed at her easy camaraderie with the group gathered around the room. Seven teens, five girls ranging from thirteen to seventeen and two guys, both sixteen, had shown up for tonight’s meeting. He wasn’t sure how the guys ended up there since they’d only promoted and geared the non-profit for the females, but neither Jillian or the girls seemed to mind.
She’d enthralled them the moment she agreed to show some of her scars. Mrs. Peterson was right. He could have shared his story a hundred times over, but it wouldn’t have been remotely effective without Jillian, who was living proof that they could survive a burn injury, that they could heal and eventually embrace their experience.
“Thanks, everyone, for coming tonight. We’ll be here next month. Same time. Same day. But meanwhile if you have any questions, feel free to email or message us.” He walked to the door and handed out the flyer he’d created with their contact info and a promotion for their next meeting. “If you connect with anyone else you think might be interested, invite them to join us for the next meeting. Guys. Gals. Doesn’t matter.”
When all the participants had filed out of the room, chatting amongst themselves, Mrs. Peterson extended an arm. “Great job, you two. I knew this idea would be a success.”
“Thanks, but Jillian’s the one who deserves the praise.” Carson shook the director’s hand and tossed his gaze toward Jillian, pride in her puffing his cheeks, melting the stress over worrying about mold and job costs.
“Well done, young lady. The kids will learn a lot from your mentorship.” A knowing gleam twinkled from her eyes as she encompassed them with her smile. “You two make an amazing team.”
“Thank you.” A shy blush stole over Jillian’s cheeks as she shook hands with Mrs. Peterson.
“I’ll see you next month.” The older lady nodded and left the room, her tall pointed heels clicking along the narrow corridor.
An amazing team. Yeah. As if that thought hadn’t occurred to him at least a hundred times over the last few weeks. They did, didn’t they?
Satisfaction and contentment rippled through his body like gentle waves lapping against a sandy beach. Not only had the evening been a success, but he could picture them working together for a very long time.
He turned to Jillian, not resisting the urge to finger the tips of her golden halo. “What was that big old sigh for?”
“I feel more exhausted than after a rough night of calls at the fire house.”
She was emotionally drained. Should he put his plan on hold? He wavered. Wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it?
“Talking about what you went through had to wear you out.” Even so, he still wasn’t ready for the evening to end. Was she? “Have you had dinner?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to eat anything before the meeting. Didn’t want to risk losing my dinner in front of some impressionable teenagers.”
He laughed. “Want to grab a bite to eat?”
“Sure.” The shy look she sent him was enough to make his insides quiver but not from hunger. Well, maybe hunger of a different kind.
He curled an arm around her shoulder and tugged her to his side as he guided her out of the room. “Come on. Let’s go eat, and then there’s something I’d like to show you, if you’re up for it.”
****
Jillian stared out the car window, peering into the darkness. What was it that Carson wanted to show her? He hadn’t given her a clue all through the too-expensive steak dinner he’d insisted on treating her to.
The engine rattled off, and the song of a thousand cicadas filled the tiny space. Carson palmed the keys but made no move to get out of the car.
She stole a sideways glance, caught him looking at her, his eyes glinting with some undefined, unidentifiable emotion.
That look set her face on fire. But it was nothing compared to when his arm reached out, his fingers threading through hers, bringing her hand up to press a soft kiss on each fingertip.
Her chest lift
ed in a happy sigh. Her pulse roared. Suddenly, it seemed as if the oxygen had leaked from the car.
“Tonight couldn’t have been easy for you, but you did it, and I’m so proud of you, Jillian.” His sweet words reached down into the depths of her wounded soul, like a momma’s kiss on a toddler’s boo boo. Not that the injury ever healed over completely, but the kindness somehow made things all better.
He didn’t hold the power to erase her burn grafts, but his kind words and selfless actions had helped heal the emotional wounds left behind.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. If it weren’t for you, these kids wouldn’t be getting the help they need.”
“You would have found a way.”
“Not without you.” His words, his tone, held the slightest hint of a deeper meaning, but she was too exhausted emotionally right now to consider what that might be.
His seat creaked as he repositioned, reaching a hand around her waist. His face inched closer, his eyes dark and inviting, his lips fixated on hers.
She cradled his neck with her hand, dipping his head even closer. Shuttering her lashes, she leaned into him, yearning for his lips before they ever touched hers.
His kiss was soft, gentle as a butterfly’s flutter, and sweet and tempting as her favorite cookie. She responded, threading her fingers through his hair, and then trailing her fingers along his whisker-roughened jaw.
His kiss took her places she’d never been before, never even knew existed. She lost all sense of where she was. The frantic pounding of her heart drowned out the loud clatter of the cicadas. The only thing she wanted or needed was more of him, to breathe in his essence, soap and hard work, outdoors and pine trees.
He pulled his head back a fraction, his lips still lingering against hers, gently nibbling, making all sorts of wrong ideas to germinate and blossom in her head. Ideas like forever and happily-ever-after. Like maybe he’d come to grips with her scars and could—
“Wow!” His voice was hoarse. He palmed her cheeks and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead before shifting away, scooting his back to the door. “We’d better get out of here before I get in trouble.”
