by Teri Wilson
Madison glanced toward the children’s section of the library, where half a dozen toddlers and elementary school–aged kids were sitting cross-legged around a white rocking chair.
“Why don’t you pick out a few books to read? The picture books are all shelved along the far wall. There are plenty, so I’m sure you can find something fun.”
“Oh, sure.” Madison nodded as if she had any clue what kind of book might be appropriate for the children of Lovestruck.
She’d sort of assumed that the librarian would select the books, but Honey was already bustling toward the general fiction shelves, pausing along the way to help an older patron who seemed to be having trouble using one of the community computers.
Okay, then.
She could do this. If she could handle eight straight hours with twin six-month-olds, she could certainly handle story time at the library. And once it was over, she’d head straight back to Aunt Alice’s and take the mother of all naps. Her part-time night nanny gig was proving to be more exhausting than the cocktail circuit on the Upper East Side.
She headed straight for the shelf labeled with a little castle insignia that read Fables & Fairy Tales. Right off, she found The Three Little Pigs, Goldilocks and the Three Bears and Three Billy Goats Gruff, all stories she’d mentioned in her recent retort to Fired Up in Lovestruck. They’d worked for her column, so she supposed they’d work for story time, too. The Dr. Seuss collection was situated nearby, where Madison spotted One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish on the bottom shelf.
Why not?
She bent to grab it on her way to the story circle, but the moment she returned to an upright position, she plowed straight into a wall of muscle—and that wall just happened to be wearing a helmet and a good deal of fire-retardant clothing.
“J-Jack,” she managed to sputter as she crashed facefirst into his chest. There was that smoky smell again, this time mixed with the gentle aroma of fresh, clean soap.
He reached for her shoulders, holding her steady as the books in her arms slid to the floor in a pile of rhyming verse and whimsical illustrations. “Whoa, there. Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You didn’t.” She shook her head hard enough for a long curl to fall in front of one of her eyes. She still longed for her flat iron on a daily basis. “I mean, I’m not scared.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Everything about Jack frightened her—from the way the low timbre of his voice caused heat to swarm low in her belly to the protective warmth of his big hands and everything in between. Oh, no. She really was developing feelings for him, wasn’t she? Her pants might actually be on fire.
A hysterical little laugh bubbled up her throat. Oh, my God. Get a grip, it’s only a harmless crush.
“You sure you’re okay?” Jack studied her.
“Just peachy.”
He released his grip on her, and for a moment every cell in her body seemed to weep at the loss of contact. Then he reached to brush the hair from her eyes and tuck it tenderly behind her ear, and a riot of goose bumps broke out over her neck and all the way down her arm.
“Ahem.” She coughed to keep herself from purring like a kitten. “Ahem. What are you doing here...in all of your, um, regalia?”
“Regalia?” He laughed, and it occurred to Madison that Jack didn’t do so nearly often enough. “It’s just turnout gear. Hardly regal.”
Agree to disagree.
He gestured toward the library’s circulation desk, where Honey was chatting with another uniformed firefighter. “I’m here with Wade. We’re doing the biannual inspection of the library’s fire extinguishers. And you? Are you here picking up a little light reading?”
He smiled, then bent to gather the storybooks, still scattered at their feet.
Madison knelt beside him and righted the overturned copy of The Three Little Pigs. “Actually, I’m volunteering. I’m reading at the children’s story hour. It starts in just a few minutes, so I was getting a few books together.”
Jack’s gaze locked on to the book in her hands, and his smile faded ever so slightly. “Volunteering. That’s great.”
“My aunt Alice suggested it,” Madison said.
Jack nodded absently as he gathered himself back to his full height and took a closer look at the books he’d picked up from the floor. A few more children entered the library and skipped toward the story circle while their parents ambled behind them, clutching coffee cups from the Lovestruck Bean.
Madison would have killed for a maple latte right then. Who knew you could bring food and beverages into the library? Once again, things in Vermont were proving to be breezy and relaxed...
With the notable exception of the air swirling between her and Jack. He’d gone stony-faced all of a sudden. Any and all traces of earlier camaraderie seemed to vanish so quickly that Madison wondered if the flirty vibe she’d picked up on had only been the product of wishful thinking.
“Um, I should probably head on over there,” she said, tipping her head in the direction of the children, who’d begun crawling all over each other in anticipation.
He looked up finally, brow furrowed, and handed the picture books back to her. “Interesting selection. Any reason why you chose those particular books?”
“Sort of.” Madison shrugged. She kept forgetting that the few people she knew in Lovestruck didn’t realize she wrote for the newspaper. Ah, the joys of being forced to write under a cutesy pseudonym. It wasn’t exactly a state secret, though. She should probably tell him. “Actually, I...”
“Madison!” Honey waved at her from the story circle. “We’re ready for you!”
Madison waved back and cast one last look at Jack. Was it her imagination, or did he look oddly pale? “Sorry. Duty calls.”
“Of course,” he said woodenly. “Go.”
She lingered for a moment, tempted to stay so she could try and figure out why he was acting so strangely. Silly, really. There were children waiting for her, and since when had Jack and his moody streak become her problem?
“Right. See you later,” she said, squaring her shoulders as she walked away.
She didn’t have any intention of making a life here, with or without a brooding fireman and his darling twin babies. She didn’t even like Vermont. Jack Cole wasn’t hers, and he never would be. Those were the simple facts.
Madison just wasn’t sure when or why they’d become so difficult to remember.
* * *
“Locking pin intact?” Wade said, glancing down at the inspection checklist on the screen of the tablet in his hand.
The question barely registered in Jack’s consciousness as he stood listening to Madison read aloud from the rocking chair on the other side of the room. She had such a lovely voice—soft and soothing. Or that was how it had seemed the night before as he lay in bed listening to her read to the girls through the wall. Who knew articles about the latest runway shows and the eternal popularity of animal prints could be so relaxing?
But that was the whole point of reading aloud to infants, wasn’t it? Reading to babies was a bonding experience. Jack knew this. The subject matter wasn’t as important as tone of voice, facial expressions and gentle touch—unless the subject matter happened to be the exact four books that Queen Bee had mentioned in her most recent letter to the editor.
“Yo,” Wade whisper-screamed at him. They were, after all, in a library. “Are we here to inspect the fire extinguishers or to spy on your night nanny?”
“The locking pin is intact, the tamper seal is unbroken and there are no signs of obvious damage, so you can check those things off your list.” Jack lifted the device from the wall so he could estimate its weight and ensure it was still full. “And I’m not spying. I had no idea she’d be here.”
“I’m telling you, it’s fate.” Wade tapped away on the tablet. “The way you two keep bu
mping into each other might just mean something.”
“I’m beginning to think fate might have a twisted sense of humor,” Jack said, securing the fire extinguisher back into place and scrawling his initials and the date on its tag.
“Uh-oh. I know that tragic tone in your voice. And just when you seemed to be somewhat happy for a change.” Wade frowned. “What happened?”
Jack brushed past him, headed toward the next fire extinguisher on their list—the one behind the circulation desk. “Nothing happened.”
Nothing at all.
He wished something had. There. He’d admitted it, even if only to himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about Madison.
“And nothing’s going to,” he added, not entirely sure whether that disclaimer was for his own benefit or Wade’s.
“Why not? Is it the nanny thing? Because no one cares.” Wade shrugged. “You’re hot for Mary Poppins. Admit it.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “She’s hardly Mary Poppins.”
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Wade’s gaze cut toward Madison, reading the part of Baby Bear from Goldilocks and the Three Bears in a goofy, high-pitched voice that made the children sitting at her feet collapse into giggles. “Those kids are spellbound.”
Join the club.
Jack turned his back on the adorable scene and focused intently on the red fire extinguisher fixed to the wall, but he couldn’t bring himself to continue the inspection. “I think she might be Queen Bee.”
“Who?”
There was a beat of confused silence until Wade gasped so loud he started coughing. Nearly every head in the library swiveled in their direction. Jack gave Wade a firm slap on the back.
“Would you please be quiet,” he muttered.
“I’m fine!” Wade waved to the library patrons, and Madison continued reading. Then he stared hard at Jack and whispered, “I lied. I’m not fine. Are you telling me that Madison is the reporter from the newspaper who you’ve been publicly shaming for weeks?”
When put that way, his behavior sounded really bad.
Jack groaned. Who was he kidding? It was bad, no matter how he sliced it. “Yes? Maybe? I’m not sure, but I’ve got a really bad feeling it might be true.”
“Why?”
“The books she’s reading to the kids right now are the same ones Queen Bee wrote about recently in the paper.” He ground his teeth and did his best to ignore Madison’s bell-like voice. Somebody has been sitting in my chair!
The children echoed her. Somebody has been sitting in my chair!
Jack closed his eyes. Somebody had been writing asinine letters to the newspaper, and now he was going to have to pay the price.
“Wait, that sounds like Goldilocks,” Wade said. He rolled his eyes. “That’s one of the most popular kids’ books ever. It could just be coincidence.”
“What about the other three? The Dr. Seuss book, plus the pigs and the billy goats.”
“All classics. I think you’re jumping to conclusions.” Wade shot him an encouraging glance, but it wasn’t altogether convincing.
“I’m not sure mathematical odds would support that theory.” Jack turned his attention back to the fire extinguisher, lest Madison glance his way.
She couldn’t possibly be Queen Bee, could she? Why would someone with a full-time job at the Lovestruck Bee want to take on the added responsibilities of caring for twin six-month-olds at night? Granted, the night nanny job was only part-time. Very part-time, now that he thought about it. She only worked on nights he was off duty from the station and since his schedule was three nights on, one night off, it boiled down to just a couple nights per week. Definitely not enough of a salary to live on.
But she lived with her aunt, so maybe she didn’t need to work full-time in order to survive?
He felt like banging his head against the hard metal of the fire extinguisher all of a sudden. How much did he actually know about Madison Jules?
“Nope.” Wade shook his head and acted like he was scribbling something onto his checklist. “They can’t be the same person. Didn’t you say your mom met Madison at a knitting class? And look, now she’s volunteering at story circle. Your reporter wouldn’t be caught dead doing either of those things.”
True... Possibly.
The whole reason he’d started complaining about her column was its lack of practical information for parents. Whoever had been writing it didn’t seem to have any actual real-life experience with children. Queen Bee couldn’t possibly be the sort of person who’d knit baby booties or read to kids in her spare time.
But she’d definitely be the type who wouldn’t know how to change a diaper. Or properly mix baby cereal. Or heat up a bottle.
“She’s not my reporter. Don’t say that,” Jack said, even as a terrible dread gathered in the pit of his stomach. “We just write letters to each other. Hostile letters. Queen Bee is a complete and total stranger.”
Wade nodded.
Subject dropped, they got back to work as Madison kept turning the pages of her storybook. Jack couldn’t help but follow along as he went through the motions of the inspection, but the timeless words she read aloud only reminded him of an ache that was becoming harder and harder to deny.
Somebody has been sleeping in my bed.
He could picture her there—her wild hair fanned over his pillow, her warm brown eyes looking up at him as he touched his lips to hers. He wanted her. He’d wanted her since the moment she’d reached over and plucked the apple out of his grocery cart like it was forbidden fruit. He’d nearly kissed her right then and there.
His throat went dry as he did his best to swallow the memory deep down, along with the ridiculous fantasy of Madison in his bed. It was never going to happen.
Especially if Queen Bee wasn’t such a stranger, after all.
Chapter Eight
Dear Editor,
Have you stopped printing the letters from Fired Up in Lovestruck? It’s been days since the last one appeared in the paper. I think I speak for the entire town when I say that we miss the banter between him and Queen Bee.
Sincerely,
Bored in Lovestruck
Dear Editor,
I just flipped through the entire newspaper and couldn’t find a single letter from Fired Up in Lovestruck or Queen Bee. Can I get a refund?
Sincerely,
Ripped Off in Lovestruck
Dear Editor,
Bring back Fired Up in Lovestruck!
Sincerely,
The Residents of Lovestruck Senior Center
Tuesday morning, after a blissful few days of silence from her nemesis, Madison was once again in the hot seat in Mr. Grant’s office.
“Great. Now we’ve managed to anger the entire senior community of Lovestruck.” Her boss wadded up his latest copy of the Bee’s front page and threw it at his computer monitor. It bounced back toward him, narrowly missing his face.
Madison winced. “Maybe it’s not so bad. People are still talking about the column. That’s good, right?”
“It’s not good,” Mr. Grant said flatly. “Not good at all. Subscriptions are down. Yesterday we had almost a dozen cancellations. Can you guess why?”
Madison shook her head. “Honestly, sir. I’d rather not.”
Good grief, how was this happening? She’d lived in this town less than a month, and somehow she’d become responsible for the impending failure of the local paper.
Although, it wasn’t actually her fault at all. It was his. Fired Up in Lovestruck had created this terrible mess, and just when Madison had figured out a way to work it to her advantage, he’d pulled a disappearing act.
At first, his silence had been a welcome relief. The short letter he’d addressed to her personally was still tucked into the pocket of her sweater, which she’d taken to wearing pretty much all the time.
She couldn’t help it. It was cozy and comfortable, and recently, it had begun to smell like Ella and Emma, fresh from a bath. Her former coworkers at Vogue would have probably died if they’d seen her pulling it on over her trendy Kate Spade jumpsuits and polka dot dresses, but there was zero chance of that happening since Madison was still stuck in Vermont.
So yeah, she needed a security blanket and the hand-knit sweater fit the bill. She didn’t want to think too hard about why its baby powder and gentle lavender bubble bath scent made her want to close her eyes and breathe deep, because that was just...odd. She was a fashion journalist, not a parenting reporter. And definitely not an actual nanny.
The letter in her pocket proved that she was a professional—at least that had been her takeaway when she’d first read it. Her luck was turning around. Any day now, she’d get the call to go back to her regular life. Sooner or later, a position in fashion would open up, and when it did, she’d be on the first plane back to Manhattan.
Meanwhile, though, she’d apparently managed to anger her boss and the greater population of Lovestruck through no fault of her own whatsoever.
Damn you, Fired Up in Lovestruck.
Whoever that know-it-all man was, he was wreaking havoc on her day-to-day existence.
“We have to do something.” Mr. Grant massaged the back of his neck, giving Madison a clear view of the sweat-stained armpits of his dress shirt. Lovely. “You have to do something.”
She really did. Gruffness aside, she liked Mr. Grant. He reminded her a bit of her father. She felt bad being responsible for the sorry state of his dry cleaning, much less his newspaper. But how was she supposed to lure Fired Up out of hiding?
There was only one surefire way.
She sighed. “I’m going to have to write something really ridiculous. You realize that, don’t you?”
Mr. Grant smiled. “Yep.”
“Something even worse than the ‘Top Ten Infants to Follow on Instagram,’” she said.
It seemed like a century had passed since she’d whipped up that silly article. Her recent columns had been filled with useful information, thanks to Jack Cole and his twins. Now she was going to have to take a giant, humiliating step backward.
