by Hope Ramsay
Oh, God. It was like someone had lit a roman candle.
What the hell? She cocked her head, giving him access, and he nipped his way to her earlobe. He suckled and bit and made her head explode. And then he invaded her mouth like one of Magnolia Harbor’s famous pirates, and she enjoyed every damn moment of being ravished.
Chapter Thirteen
Lia DiPalma had one hot little mouth and smelled surprisingly good considering that she’d spent the morning sweating on a softball field. But then he liked the smell of her sweat. It was musky and sexy and sweet. He was right on the verge of suggesting a serious make-out session back at the clinic when his phone rang.
It was the proverbial bell, saving him from making a mistake. He backed up, the cool breeze on his face where it had just been touching hers. “Call. Gotta answer,” he said, turning around.
It was Ethan. Damn. Had he cornered Grant Ackerman and broken the guy’s nose?
“What?” he asked into the phone, his voice short.
“We’ve got an emergency here. A cat was found unresponsive in a fire. The MHFD revived him—actually I hate to admit it but it was Ackerman who rescued the animal. Anyway, he’s bringing the cat and its owner over to the clinic. Are you there?”
Damn. “No. I’m not. But I’m on my way. Did you say Grant Ackerman saved the cat?”
“Yeah. He did. He rushed into the flames, brought the cat out unresponsive, administered oxygen, and revived it right on the spot. There was an audience for this, which included our little sister. She was visibly impressed.” Ethan’s voice sounded a little odd, as if he, too, was impressed.
Hell, who wouldn’t be impressed by a firefighter saving a cat?
“Abby was there?”
“The fire was only a few doors down from Momma’s place, and we had a roadblock up so Abby couldn’t get home while we were fighting the blaze. I have a feeling these heroics are going to make our job of breaking them up that much harder.”
So maybe Ethan hadn’t changed his mind about Grant. “Look, I don’t think breaking them up is the right approach.”
“No? Then what do you suggest we do about this? She can’t be with him, Noah.”
And she probably wouldn’t end up with him. Abby would probably take a big fall, and as much as Noah didn’t want his sister to ever know heartbreak, trying to break them up was the wrong move. Besides, it wasn’t entirely clear that there was any kind of relationship to break.
“Look, I’m not at the clinic,” he said. “I’ll talk to Ackerman about Abby if I have a chance. But I’ve got to run if I’m going to get there before he does.”
Noah ended the call and turned toward Lia, who stood by the boardwalk railing looking a little wide-eyed and well-kissed. The wind pulled at the bun he’d messed up during their embrace. He wanted to kiss her again, more thoroughly, and pull every single one of her bobby pins out. He wanted to see the wind ruffling through her dark hair.
But sometimes you just don’t get what you want.
“I gotta go,” he said. “There’s an emergency. A cat with smoke inhalation and potentially other injuries.”
She nodded and wet her lips. “I heard your end of the conversation. Of course you need to go. And, um, I’m really sorry about Duke.”
Damn. He didn’t want her to know about that.
“Look, I’m sorry about what just happened. It was out of bounds. It won’t happen again. I’m not a jerk or a misogynist.”
“But I—”
“Look. I need to get back to the clinic, okay?”
He turned and ran like the wind.
But Lia followed him all the way back to the clinic. And damned if she wasn’t able to keep up with him. In fact, she was hardly winded when they got there.
Ackerman, dressed in all his firefighting gear, was waiting for them. The cat’s owner, a woman named Sarah Whitman, had the tabby cat clutched to her breast, her face soot-covered except for where her tears had washed away the ash.
Noah took the cat and its owner into the exam room. He checked the cat for injuries and lung issues, but Simba seemed none the worse for wear. “He’s fine,” he told the devastated owner.
“I can’t believe what the fireman did for him.” Her tears were still pooling in her eyes. “But now I don’t know what to do. I mean the house was destroyed. Everything I own is gone, and I have nowhere to stay.”
Here was another homeless waif standing in his reception area. It struck him, right then, that maybe he hadn’t performed some hot-shot surgery, but at least he could reassure someone who’d lost everything that her beloved cat would be just fine.
And he had this feeling that Lia DiPalma was probably already in reassurance mode. Lia had a talent for that. He’d seen it on display these last few days at the clinic. And this, in a nutshell, was why Micah St. Pierre wanted to steal her away from him.
He stifled a sigh. “Don’t worry, Sarah,” he said. “We’ll take care of you and Simba. I think the Red Cross can give you assistance. Why don’t we go out to the reception area and see what my office manager can help us figure out, okay?”
Sarah bit her trembling lip and nodded.
They returned to the waiting room and sure enough, Lia sat behind the reception desk with the phone pressed to her ear. From this end of the conversation, it sounded as if she was talking to someone from some social service. He wasn’t even surprised anymore. Lia could read his mind. It was an open-and-shut case.
But Noah was surprised to find Grant Ackerman, divested of his heavy fire suit, sprawled in a reception room chair. He’d expected the man to beat a hasty retreat. Maybe Noah needed to reevaluate this guy. He’d rescued a cat from a burning building, he’d taken care of the distraught cat’s owner, and he’d stuck around to make sure Sarah and Simba were okay.
“How is Simba?” Grant asked in a tone that conveyed real concern for the animal.
“He’s going to be okay,” Sarah said in a shaky voice.
“Thanks, doc,” Grant said.
“I didn’t do anything. I think Simba owes you one of his lives.”
Grant didn’t react to this. He didn’t smile or nod or even try to take credit. Damn. In addition to being brave, the guy was humble too. It was hard not to like him.
Just then, Lia hung up the phone in the reception area. “Sarah, I’ve been in touch with the Red Cross,” she announced. “They have a room for you at the Seaside Motel, which is on the eastern side of the island. I gather it’s not the greatest place in the world, but the room is clean, it’s near the beach, and it’s free for you to use for the next week. Considering that it’s this close to July Fourth, the fact that they have emergency shelter options is nothing short of extraordinary. There’s a caseworker heading over there now. We’re supposed to meet her in twenty minutes.”
“Oh my God, thank you so much. The fire…” Her voice wavered. “It destroyed everything.”
“I’ll take you over,” Grant offered.
“I’ve already got that handled,” Lia said. “Reverend St. Pierre is on his way. He’ll take us over, and we’ll both make sure you get settled. The Altar Guild ladies are also getting together a care package for you with some clothes and cat food and litter and stuff.” Lia stood up and strode to the front window and peered out at Magnolia Boulevard.
A moment later, Micah’s ancient Volvo sedan rolled up to the sidewalk in front of the clinic. “The Rev’s here,” Lia said, turning around toward Sarah.
“Is there a charge for the cat?” Sarah asked.
“No,” Lia and Noah said in near unison.
“Thank you all so much.” Sarah’s eyes filled again as Lia draped an arm across her shoulders and guided her through the clinic’s doors.
“Your receptionist is incredibly efficient in addition to being a pretty good catcher,” Ackerman said.
“Yes, she is,” Noah said, watching Micah’s Volvo pull away from the curb. He turned back toward Ackerman. “So the fire was on Redbud?” he asked.
&
nbsp; Grant nodded. “About three doors down from your mother’s place.”
“You know where my mother lives?”
Ackerman made eye contact. “I’m sure you know that I took your sister out to dinner the other night. We went to Annie’s Kitchen. Your assistant saw us there so it’s not a secret.”
Noah folded his arms. He didn’t want to like Ackerman but it was very hard not to. He was a straight edge. Honest and decent. Which raised the question of why a guy his age was interested in someone like Abby. You’d think an older man would want someone with more life experience.
“Yeah, I know all about you and my sister.”
Grant nodded. “Look, have you got a minute?”
“To talk about Abby?”
“Yeah, but before we get to that, you should know that there are some real problems with those rental units down on Redbud Street. Fire safety problems. I have no idea what Bud Joyner is going to say about what caused the fire today, but from what Sarah told me on the drive over from the scene, the blaze started in the kitchen and was probably touched off by some kind of electrical overload.”
“Well, I’m sure Bud will investigate,” Noah replied, suddenly wary. Was Ackerman suggesting that Bud Joyner, chief of the volunteer fire department and also the town’s paid fire inspector, was playing fast and loose with fire safety?
That made two people in the space of two hours calling Bud into question about something. How could that possibly be? Bud was one of the most respected guys in town.
“I’m just saying that you should pay attention to what Bud determines as the ignition source. If he says it was something other than faulty or decrepit wiring, then you should be concerned. I wouldn’t want your mother, or Abby, or anyone living in those houses, to get hurt. We dodged a bullet today.”
Well, that was disconcerting, especially since Noah was well aware of the maintenance issues Momma had encountered since Art Moore had died and his son took over. The quicker he could get Momma out of that house the better.
“Okay,” Noah said. “I’ll keep an eye on Bud Joyner and what he says about that fire. But let’s talk about Abby for a minute. What exactly are your intentions?”
Ackerman stood. He was a tall man, and unlike a lot of guys on the MHFD, he was fit. Funny. Up until right this moment, Noah had never really thought about the fact that more than half the guys on the volunteer fire department were out of shape and kind of long in the tooth. He’d just passed that off as Bud Joyner being a happy guy who didn’t like to discipline his friends and neighbors, who did a really good job fighting fires for little or no pay.
But it struck him that even a volunteer fire department should have a few standards. Grant was the new guy in town, and he seemed to take his volunteer firefighting seriously. He looked like a gym rat. No wonder Abby found him attractive.
“So,” Grant said, in a hesitant voice, “my intentions toward Abby are honorable.”
“And what does that mean, exactly? You’re a little old for her. What is it, fifteen, twenty years? You can’t blame me for being concerned.”
Grant chuckled. “Really? You think I look that old?”
“Yeah, I do. How old are you exactly?”
“Twenty-nine.”
Noah blinked. The guy had almost white hair. “You’re only twenty-nine?”
“Yes. And if you think my hair is gray, you should see my little brother. He’s salt and pepper, and he’s only nineteen. My momma thinks the family’s prematurely gray hair makes her boys look distinguished. I can tell you it comes in handy when you’re trying to buy beer for your buddies in high school, but otherwise it creates confusion.”
Grant gave Noah a serious man-to-man stare and continued. “Even so, I’m nine years older than Abby so I can still understand why you’d be concerned.”
“So does that mean you’re going to stop dating her?”
Ackerman looked down at his shoes for a moment before meeting Noah’s stare once again. “I think she’s beautiful. And I love her spirit. And the other night I discovered that we like the same music and books and movies. I really would like to take her out again. And I guess I’m here asking for your blessing.”
Noah almost laughed out loud. “Abby would be furious if she ever found out that you felt the need to ask for my blessing.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m asking it anyway. And I’m asking you because she’s told me that you’re the only one in her family who really understands her.”
“Well, I’m the only one in the family who doesn’t want to lock her in a cage and never let her out.”
“That too.”
Noah blew out a breath as he thought about the things Momma had said the other day when they’d cut their deal about staying for the summer. Abby needed the freedom to make a few mistakes. Maybe Ackerman was a big mistake. On the other hand, if his little sister had to go out with anyone, maybe it was best if she went out with someone who rescued cats from burning buildings. He could get down with that.
“You know she’s too young to settle down,” Noah said, giving voice to his biggest concern. To Momma’s biggest concern. Neither of them wanted Abby to make the same mistake Momma had made.
Ackerman nodded. “I know. But I like her. A lot. What if I promised you that I will do nothing to dissuade her from leaving Magnolia Harbor in August? In fact, I think she needs to go on up to Columbia and get her college degree.”
“You do?”
“I do. But I’d still like to date her. Is that okay?”
No, it wasn’t okay. Noah didn’t want his baby sister to be a grown-up. He wanted to keep her as the skinny, knobby-kneed girl with the killer pitching arm. But you can’t hold a wave on the shore.
“Yeah. It’s okay. Not that Abby needs my permission. And just because you’ve got my blessing doesn’t mean that my father or brother will be happy about this.”
Ackerman nodded. “I know. But I guess I’m willing to take that risk.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Church of the Heavenly Rest stood on Ash Street on the east side of town. From the road, it was a picture postcard of southern life, sitting in a grove of pines and live oaks and shaded by long trails of Spanish moss.
Lia stood for a long moment admiring the little church. It was perfect. An icon of small-town America with its white board and batten siding and long, Gothic stained-glass windows along each side. It didn’t have big columns or a gigantic parking lot, but it had the patina of age.
Micah had told her that the Church of the Heavenly Rest had been built before the Civil War, and the moment Lia set foot in the sanctuary she could smell the history. But not in a dusty, dead way. This history was alive in the wood grain of the oak pews and unpainted bead-board walls.
Glass vases with summer lilies and gladioli adorned the altar, which was covered in white linens today because it was the Sunday before Independence Day and the American Anglican church had a calendar that prescribed the linens to be used. Lia knew all the liturgical requirements for “rigging an altar,” as the navy comically put it. She gave Micah’s Altar Guild an A for their work today.
Funny. If Lia got the job as church secretary, it wouldn’t be quite the same as being Rev. St. Pierre’s RPS. She’d have an Altar Guild to do the weekly linens and flowers. The flowers were nice; aboard ship there weren’t ever flowers. But there were endless altars to rig for every denomination—Jewish and Islamic services on Friday and Saturday, and then tear it all down for the Christians to worship on Sundays.
It would be strange to settle down to one faith. But if she wanted the job at the church, she figured it was the politic and polite thing to show up on Sunday. She’d make herself useful after services handing out coffee. In fact, she’d even brought a couple of packages of chocolate chip cookies for the fellowship hour.
She found a seat in one of the middle pews as the congregation filed in. She already knew that the Cuthberts were Methodists so she was safe. Donna wouldn’t be here today, and neither w
ould her son. Thank goodness, because if she had to face Noah, she might break out into hives, or worse yet, melt down into her core elements.
She had welcomed the chance to help Sarah after the fire yesterday. It had given her a good excuse to stay the heck away from Noah while refreshing the Rev’s memory about her abilities in a crisis. She’d also been über-grateful early this morning when she’d run down to the clinic to let Prince out for a pee and Noah was nowhere to be found.
He’d texted her half an hour ago to let her know that he would babysit Prince for the remainder of the day. So she was safe. She could stay away from him. What she’d do tomorrow was a whole other thing though.
She could only pray that the Heavenly Rest Board of Directors got their act together and cleared the way for her to become their church secretary. Because she had this gut-deep feeling that, if she and Noah were left alone for any length of time, they would probably kiss again. And that would be awkward with both of them working together at the clinic. It would be wrong to get involved with him even if they weren’t governed by strict non-fraternization rules.
But more important was the fact that he’d kissed her in order to end the discussion about his father and his feelings for Prince. So the man had some serious issues. And he wasn’t going to stick around. So…
She picked up the hymnal and Book of Common Prayer from the rack in the pew in front of her. She checked the listing of hymns and readings posted at the front of the church and got out a package of small Post-it tabs, which she used to mark the proper places in both books.
The service began with the priest and the choir processional, and she lost herself in the order of service. It had once surprised her to discover that the Jewish service and the Christian mass were sometimes so similar, right down to the prayers they used. And the Sanctus and the Kadosh were exactly the same words regardless of the language. Her fifteen years serving chaplains of all faiths had taught her that there were more similarities than differences between the major religions. If only more people could understand that.
