by Amy Knupp
She stared him down, the look in her eyes combative. “We don’t need your help. Consider yourself uninvolved.”
“I was involved the second you asked me to keep something from the chief.”
Still shooting daggers at him with her eyes, she grabbed the doorknob. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
She swung the door open so hard it bounced off the wall as she walked away.
JOE SAT DOWN HARD in the worn chair at his desk, still able to discern Faith’s feminine scent in the air though she’d marched off minutes ago, once again ticked off at him.
That shouldn’t bother him, but it did. He’d blown it. Whether you looked at it professionally or personally, he’d said all the wrong things, in the wrong way, when she’d just confided that she didn’t know what to do about her dad.
He hadn’t intended to come across as an unfeeling bastard. Wasn’t trying to threaten her or the chief.
On a personal level, maybe it was a good thing that he’d lacked any kind of gentleness, but if she was just another firefighter, just one of the guys, he would’ve handled the situation better.
She was getting to him and that wasn’t okay. Even if he didn’t care what the chief thought. Even if he wasn’t trying to get the assistant chief job.
It wasn’t okay.
It was unprofessional and somewhat embarrassing that the department had one woman on staff and the goddamn captain couldn’t keep a rein on his thoughts.
When Faith had walked into the bar last night, he couldn’t deny the buzz that had pumped through him at the sight of her. He hadn’t thought twice about helping her out. At the time, he’d convinced himself it was something he’d do for any of his “men,” but today, after making the mistake of ordering Faith into his office, he knew there’d been more to it than duty.
If he continued down this road, kept close tabs on Faith as the chief had requested, he risked getting in deeper. He had every intention of fighting off his desire for her, but look where that had gotten him last night. She cast a spell over him, made him stupid and lacking in judgment.
He was a lot weaker than he’d thought.
When it came to Faith Peligni and his career with the San Amaro Island Fire Department, he was screwed. Something had to give.
CHAPTER TEN
FAITH HATED HAVING TO ASK her mom for anything. Most days, she’d walk ten thousand miles to avoid it, but this was her dad. She was desperate.
She knocked on the door to the third-floor apartment. The building was box-shaped, nondescript. Everything her mother wasn’t. She and her mom could disagree on anything under the sun, they could argue about the color of the sky, but the one thing Faith wouldn’t debate was that her mother had good taste when it came to decorating. Cooking and dressing, too. Nita Peligni was well-versed in all things domestic. A year ago, this apartment would’ve chilled her mother’s blood.
“Faith,” her mom said, opening the door and looking surprised.
Some people would be insulted, but Faith could readily admit she hadn’t visited here often—only twice before in the two months plus she’d been back in San Amaro.
“Hi, Mom.” Faith held up the plastic container of scotcheroos. Her best attempt at a peace offering. “Can I come in?”
Her mother stepped back so Faith could enter. “What’s with the cookies?” she asked suspiciously.
“I baked scotcheroos. Too many.” That they were her dad’s favorite and not her mom’s remained unspoken, but hung between them.
Her mom frowned and set the container aside on the high counter that divided the living room from the kitchen, without even acting tempted. “What are you doing here?”
Faith wandered in as if it were her home, even though it didn’t feel like anyone’s home with its taupe walls, beige carpet and total lack of personalization. She couldn’t spot anything that screamed out Nita Peligni.
“You’re not planning to stay here, are you?” Faith said, falling unladylike onto the cheap, used sofa.
“What?” Her mom perched carefully on the non-matching chair. She looked out of place in this room in her casual robin’s egg-blue pantsuit, her hair, as usual, perfectly in place.
“This is temporary,” Faith continued, waving her arm. “To teach him a lesson.”
“To teach…who? What are you talking about?”
“If you were planning to stay here, you would’ve bought better furniture. Added some throw pillows, some artwork. Color. Your walls are bare, Mom.”
“I have upholstery covers on order, Faith. A rug. And once I get those, I’ll pick out some accent pieces.”
“You’ve been here for three months. It’s not like you to live in this monotone blah.”
Her mom settled back into the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Frankly, I don’t know what’s like me. As a suddenly soon-to-be-divorcee at the age of fifty-eight, decorating hasn’t been my top priority.”
She was sincere, not just saying it to gain sympathy, and somehow, in spite of Faith’s anger and her tendency to be more concerned for her dad’s well-being, it was impossible to be unaffected by her mother’s plight.
Her mom had left him, though, Faith reminded herself.
“If it’s so bad being by yourself, why not go back?”
“Is this why you came? To browbeat me? To try to get me to move back home?”
Once again, Faith had let her emotions carry her too far, just as she had during the argument at dinner. Why she couldn’t just chill out, hold herself back, when it was vital to making her point, she didn’t know. Her mom had always set her off.
“I didn’t come to browbeat. But…Dad needs you, Mom.”
Her mother looked away and swallowed hard. Smoothed down her pants with fidgety hands. “He’s never really needed me, Faith. Not like he’s needed his career. And that’s the fundamental problem.”
“Mom—”
Nita held her hand up. “Stop. I know you want us back together, but it’s not going to happen.” She walked over to the sofa and sat a foot away from Faith. “It’s too late for your dad and me, honey. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”
“This isn’t about me.” Faith popped up off the sofa, uncomfortable with her mother’s closeness. “Dad…” She lifted her face to stare at the ugly white ceiling through tear-blurred eyes. Pacing toward the kitchen, she swiftly wiped the moisture away. She fought to collect herself for several seconds, then finally faced her mom. “He’s not handling this, Mom. At all.”
For a split second, her mom’s feelings showed in her eyes—concern and…love. Faith could swear to it. But then it was gone and the hardness, the hurt were back.
“What do you mean?” Nita asked.
“He’s…I’m pretty sure he’s depressed. Clinically. He sleeps all the time. Forgets to eat. Drinks too much.” Faith was laying most of his secrets out there, but couldn’t bring herself to admit how bad the other night had been. Not if she could avoid it. She wasn’t even sure her dad remembered any of it. He’d walked past her this morning before she’d left, on his way in to the station after his sick day, and acted like nothing was wrong.
“I’m sorry he’s having a hard time. But this isn’t easy for me, either.”
“So then why not try again? At this point he’d do just about anything to get you back where you belong.”
Her mom shook her head slowly. Sadly. “You would do anything, Faith. But your father…I don’t think he knows how to put me first. I’ve waited for thirty-eight years.” Her voice wavered and she hesitated. “There comes a time when you have to face up to reality. Admit to yourself something is never going to happen.”
The tears wouldn’t stop filling Faith’s eyes. She marched into the kitchen and grabbed a tissue to wipe them. Her mom clearly didn’t realize how serious the situation was. How bad off her dad was. And short of telling her about his drunken night, Faith wasn’t sure how to make her understand. The digital dots on the microwave clock b
linked while she considered. Tried to convince herself to speak up. In the end, she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t rob her father, the person she probably loved most in the world, of his last shred of dignity. She didn’t want her mom to come back out of sympathy or fear of what he might or might not do. She wanted her to come back because they still loved each other.
Faith indelicately blew her nose and threw the tissue into the wastebasket in the pantry. As she headed back out to the bland living room, someone knocked on the door. She didn’t think much of it other than an inconvenience until she noticed her mom’s reaction. Nita jumped up almost before the knock was over and darted a guilty glance at Faith before walking past her and opening the door.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Faith couldn’t see the man yet, but she’d put him in his fifties, tall and very much interested in her mom.
“Craig. Come in and meet my daughter. This is—”
“Faith,” he said smoothly. Way too smoothly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
She looked from him to her mom. He was indeed tall, thin, with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. She wouldn’t give him handsome, but she could see how he would catch a woman’s attention. But not her mom’s. Faith closed her eyes as the implications sank in.
Her mom had a…boyfriend? What the hell did you call it when she was fifty-eight years old and not yet divorced? Besides disgusting.
“I was just leaving,” Faith said, looking around for her purse.
“Faith, don’t be rude. This is Craig Eggleston. I’ve been wanting to introduce you.”
Like hell she had. And Faith had no interest in meeting him. She didn’t want to know about him, didn’t want to think about him.
Were they sleeping together? God. Did people her mother’s age still do that? Faith closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her lips together. Shook her head slightly. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, without offering her hand. “Really, I have to go now.”
She finally spotted her purse on the floor by the sofa, grabbed it and made a sincere effort to walk instead of run out the door.
Maybe Joe was right, after all. Maybe there really wasn’t anything more she could do to help her dad.
No. Faith refused to accept that. To give up would be to let her dad down, and after everything he’d done for her, including putting his name on the line to get her hired, she wasn’t about to do that.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SO WHAT IF SNACKING late at night was bad? Whoever made up that rule hadn’t ever taken part in a vicious fire station round of beach Frisbee. Faith had to have burned as many calories during the game as she usually did on the treadmill. Now she was famished. She couldn’t get the last slice of chocolate cheesecake—sitting in the refrigerator all by its lonesome—out of her mind.
Might as well put the cheesecake out of its misery before someone else did.
Most of the guys were in the living area watching a cheesy horror movie, and the hall that led to the kitchen reeked of microwave popcorn. That didn’t sway her from her sweet objective. The swear words that were uttered in the supply room did, however.
She walked beyond the kitchen and looked into the open doorway. Joe had his back toward her, hunched over a box that must have fallen off the shelf and spilled.
She hadn’t been alone with him since the other day when he’d told her he was tired of being involved in Peligni family business. She didn’t really want to be alone with him now, either, so she tried to back out of the room before he noticed her.
“Midnight snack run?” he asked, shoving the last rolls of bandages into the box as he stood.
Faith halted her attempted escape. “I can hear the chocolate cheesecake calling my name from my bunk. What are you doing in here?”
He replaced the box on the shelf and held up a syringe. “Come see.”
Joe strode out of the room, not giving her a chance to reply. Curiosity propelled her after him. Instead of going toward the racket of male voices in the living area or heading toward the bunks, he took the hall to the wing of offices.
As they turned the corner, Faith saw light shining under his closed office door. “Working late again?” she asked.
“Not exactly.”
He opened the door a few inches and cautiously peered in, then pushed it the rest of the way. He gestured for Faith to follow him in, and then closed the door behind her, reminding her of their last less-than-pleasant discussion in this room.
She glanced expectantly at his desk, but the surface was clean, with neat stacks of paper organized on one corner. Joe stepped across the room, toward the desk the lieutenants used, where a shallow cardboard box rested on the floor.
“You did not,” Faith said, moving closer.
Wriggling furry bodies made stilted movements toward a large mound of gray fur. Cale had discovered the litter of kittens and the mama cat this morning in a corner of the apparatus floor, huddled in a spare turnout coat that had fallen off one of the hooks.
“It’s loud out there when the trucks start up,” Joe said defensively.
“You brought them in here?” Faith was stumbling over the image of their burly, dedicated leader transporting the tiny critters to a safer haven. Where he could keep an eye on them.
“One of them isn’t nursing right.” He lowered himself to the chair he’d moved next to the kitten nest. “The little orange one over here,” he said, pointing.
The kitten was noticeably smaller than the others, and while the rest of the litter were drinking from their mother, the orange one mewed, so quietly Faith almost couldn’t hear it.
She had no experience with cats, but the troubled kitten seemed to wrap itself around her heart and take hold. “Maybe it’s just not hungry now?”
Joe shook his head. “Hasn’t eaten since I moved them in here. The others seem to nurse every hour or two.”
“How long have they been in your office?”
He looked sheepish. “I brought them in before lunch. It was getting too hot.”
She stifled a grin and knelt on the floor next to his legs and the box. He’d added a towel to cushion the cardboard, and a water dish sat beside it. “I didn’t know you had such a soft heart,” Faith said, not realizing until the words were out how personal they sounded.
“I try not to let it show.” Joe went to his desk where a saucer of milk sat next to the carton with the Don’t Touch My Damn Milk warning.
“Derek’s going to miss his milk.”
“I’ll buy him more.”
“Think the little orange one will drink it from the saucer?” Faith held her hand out slowly to the mother cat and let the sleepy animal sniff it.
Joe shook his head. “Too small. A website suggested trying this.” He indicated the needleless syringe again, then filled it with milk.
“Isn’t there some kind of kitten formula you should use?”
“Know any twenty-four hour pet stores where I could get some?”
“Good point.” The mother cat licked Faith’s fingers with her warm, rough tongue, making her smile. “I think I’ve been accepted.”
Joe returned to the chair next to her. “The cat has good instincts.”
Faith puzzled briefly over whether that was a compliment or just a statement.
“Come here, Blaze,” Joe said as he cupped the tiny orange baby in his large hand.
Faith chuckled. “You named it?”
“Just this one,” Joe said sternly, which amused Faith more.
He gently opened the kitten’s mouth and squeezed drops of milk in. Faith watched intently and tried to determine whether any of it was swallowed.
After several minutes, they decided the kitten was getting at least a little nourishment, since the level of milk in the syringe had gone down and very little had spilled on Joe’s uniform. He continued to give the sleepy animal a few drops every couple of minutes.
“Faith,” he said, his tone no longer the quiet, affectionate one he used to talk to the kitten. “
I’m sorry for how I came across the other day.”
She ran her index finger lightly along the orange kitten’s back, attempting to hide her reaction to his words. She didn’t expect an apology from him. Didn’t need one, really, because he’d been absolutely right. As her captain, he shouldn’t be put in the middle of her family’s problems. She should never have asked him to keep her collarbone pain from her dad. Derek should never have called him to go get her dad at the bar.
“There’s nothing to apologize for on your end.” She made her own voice businesslike. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in something you shouldn’t even be aware of. Things that never should’ve happened in the first place.”
“But they did. The scope of my job goes beyond just fighting fires to making sure all my men—people—do what needs to be done.”
“You were thrown into the middle of our family soap opera. I wish Derek had called me instead of you.”
Joe put the syringe aside when the kitten refused to take more milk, and held the rumbling fur ball in his hand, against his wide chest.
“I’ve worked for your father for years. He worked for mine. I’d do just about anything for him, Faith. I am worried about him, but I said it all wrong the other day.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’d offer to shake on our peace treaty but it seems you have your hands full.” She sat back on the floor, supporting her weight on her arms and watching him stroke the kitten. Trying not to admire his large hands or think about the juxtaposition of such strength and gentleness. “Can I ask something personal? Since we’ve already got the line all grayed up between us anyway?”
Joe grimaced. “Shoot.”
“Your mom is married again, isn’t she?”
He nodded.
“What was it like when she first started dating? After your dad passed away?”
He leaned back in the chair and stretched his long legs out, brushing her thigh with his calf. “I hated it. She waited almost ten years, as far as I know, but I couldn’t stand the thought of it.”
