by Liz Isaacson
“I hope it is.” He slid it back into the oven and filled a pot with water. “So, I’m prepared to tell you a couple of things about me,” he said. “How do you feel about doing the same?”
He caught the way she swallowed, saw the sliver of fear in her eyes before she blinked and erased it. Still, she nodded, and he switched the pot from the sink to the stove and put the flame underneath it.
“Great.” He leaned against the counter and faced her. “I don’t really like working for my family’s business.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “No?”
“No.”
“Why do you do it then?”
He inhaled deliberately and exhaled. “Duty? Obligation? Because I don’t want to rock the boat?”
“And all your siblings work for A Jack of All Trades, right?”
“Yes, all of them.”
“So if you didn’t, if you broke the mold….” She lifted one shoulder. “You’d be left out.”
“I’m already overlooked as it is,” he admitted. Once he said it, something broke free in his soul. He’d never told anyone that he was the forgotten one in the Fuller family. It felt nice to share his emotions with someone, even if Cora couldn’t quite understand.
“I believe it. With that many brothers and sisters.” She leaned her elbows on the counter, her eyes never leaving his. “So what would you do if you could do anything you wanted?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do.”
“I really don’t.”
“You haven’t thought about it?”
Brennan added a healthy dose of salt to the water. “I mean, I guess I have.”
“So? What would you do?”
“Landscaping is what I grew up doing. Painting. Fixing household appliances. That kind of thing.”
“It’s probably a good job,” she said.
“I get by.”
“From what I can tell, you do more than get by.” She glanced around his house as if he had precious stones on display. “Granite countertops. Cherry cabinets. Stainless steel appliances. It’s nice.”
Brennan looked around his house, surprised by her assessment. “We know a lot of people,” he said. “We usually get everything at a reduced price.”
“That must be nice,” she said.
Brennan didn’t like this line of conversation, so he said, “I think I’d like to be an architect.”
“You like to design things?”
“Yes.”
Cora tilted her head and studied him with a bright sparkle in her eye. He chuckled and asked, “What?”
“Have you heard of a landscape architect?”
“No.”
“They work with city planners. Universities. Big businesses who are concerned about the environment and making their campuses green in all senses of the word. That kind of stuff.”
“How do you know?”
“I took several environmental classes in the year I went to college. I was interested in being an environmentalist. Then I joined the fire academy and took a different path.”
“You went to college?”
She smiled and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “Does that count as one of my things to tell you today?”
“Sure.” He wasn’t sure why he was surprised to hear Cora had attended a university. Only that a strange sensation had pulled through him, and it felt a lot like…jealousy.
“I’ve always wanted to go to college,” he said quietly. He’d never told anyone that little tidbit either. His oldest brother had gone to college in Salt Lake City, earning a bachelor’s degree in business. Wren had also gone and earned a degree in business management. She managed the business, so it made sense. And Milton was the first in line to take over the whole company when their father retired, so his degree was warranted too.
But Brennan’s need to go to college was nil. It had never even been discussed. The men in his family took care of handyman jobs, landscaping, and construction. The women did all the cleaning.
“You should go then,” Cora said.
“It’s not that easy.” The lid on the pasta pot clanked, and he ripped open the package of linguine and dropped it into the boiling water. He stirred it, his thoughts rotating just as violently.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said like that answered everything.
“You can afford it, can’t you?”
“Monetarily, yes.”
“What? You can’t get time off work?”
He faced her again, a vein of electricity coursing through him. It felt a lot like…possibility. “No,” he said. “I can’t get time off work. I manage all the landscaping for the city and the school district. Just me. If I go off to college—” Just the thought had him shaking his head. It was impossible.
“If I go off to college, who will do that?”
“You have three other brothers.”
“Who are already busy enough as it is.” He dismissed what she was about to say with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine. I’m happy enough.”
Cora’s mouth snapped shut, clearly flummoxed that happy enough was good enough for him. Brennan frowned too. When had that happened? When had he accepted happy enough as his norm?
“Your turn,” he practically barked. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
Her face blanked, and the timer on the linguine went off, saving her from having to say anything. He busied himself with putting together the bolognese with the noodles, and he served the two of them at the bar.
She graced him with a soft smile and twirled a heaping forkful of noodles into her mouth. A moan came from her throat as her eyes rolled back in her head.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” She took another bite, and satisfaction soared through Brennan. If he couldn’t impress her with his life choices, at least he had bolognese.
They ate with small talk in the background, and the fun, easy way of being together returned.
He hadn’t realized how unhappy he was with his life until the moment he’d spoken the words “happy enough,” but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do about it now. He finished eating and started packing up a big container of food for Gramps and Grams.
“So I usually go visit my grandparents on Sunday,” he said. “You up for that?”
She put her plate—scraped clean—in the sink. “You met my overbearing siblings and mother. I think I can handle a set of grandparents.”
Sybil waddled into the kitchen from where she’d been sleeping in his bedroom. She seemed to understand the word “visit,” and she always wanted to go play with Pops.
He picked up the linguine bolognese and pointed to the back door. “All right, Syb. Let’s go.” He told Cora about his grandparents and their dog on the way over, ending with, “Just yell what you want them to really hear. They’re sort of deaf.”
She laughed, but kept her legs crossed and herself clear at the other end of the bench seat in his truck. He’d seen plenty of girlfriends ride right next to their boyfriends in a pickup truck, but Cora didn’t really seem like that kind of woman. After all, he didn’t know any woman who drove a motorcycle and not a sensible sedan. Had never met a female firefighter before either. She wasn’t typical, and Brennan wondered if he’d been looking in all the wrong places all these years.
Obviously, he told himself as he pulled up to Gramps’s house. Cora climbed out and waited for Sybil to follow her. The basset hound had completely betrayed him, falling in love with Cora seemingly as fast as Brennan had.
You’re not in love with her, he chastised himself as he led her up the front walk. “Gramps,” he called as he opened the door. “I brought you something to eat.” He glanced over his shoulder at Cora, who stepped into the house and gazed around at the old wallpaper, the nearly shag carpet in the formal living room.
“Grams?” Brennan walked past the dining room on his right and the hallway on his left, which led to a few bedrooms, and into the kitchen. “P
ops?”
He pushed into the garage. “Huh. Their car is here.”
“They’re out back.” Cora pointed through the sliding glass door behind the round table in the kitchen where his grandparents normally ate.
He stepped to her side and peered out the glass to find Gramps and Grams working in the yard.
“They’re so cute,” Cora said, affection obvious in her voice.
Brennan slid open the door and let Sybil teeter through first. Pops barked for all he was worth and made a beeline for the other dog. Gramps turned, his face lighting up when he saw Brennan.
“I brought bolognese,” he said, lifting the container.
Grams pulled off one of her leather gloves as she shuffled toward him. “Bolognese. My favorite.”
Brennan bent down and gave her a hug, taking the bush shears from her when she handed them to him. “Have you guys had lunch?”
“Just grilled cheese sandwiches,” she said.
“They were burnt,” Gramps practically yelled.
“That’s because someone turned the burner to a nine when I said six,” Grams yelled back at him. “Come in, come in,” she said. She’d taken two steps toward the back door when she spotted Cora. “Oh.”
That about summed it up. Brennan hadn’t told Cora all about his empty dating past, but he’d said he hadn’t been out with anyone significant recently. She didn’t need to know that “recently” meant “the last five years.”
She probably needed to know now.
“Hey, yeah,” Brennan said. “So this is Cora Wesley. She’s….” He had no idea how to classify her. And why should he have to? “We’re working together.”
Not entirely true, but not entirely false either. He watched her for her reaction, and a slight flutter stole across her eyebrows. She wiped it away quickly and extended her hand for Grams to shake.
“This the woman you ditched me for last weekend?” Gramps asked, his voice so loud it made Brennan cringe.
Cora’s attention shot to them, and Brennan chuckled and shrugged. “I guess so, Gramps.” He indicated his grandparents. “Cora, this is Gramps and Grams, Daryl and Ebony Fuller. My father’s parents.”
“Nice to meet you both. Did you know Brennan is an excellent cook?”
“Yes,” Gramps said, pushing past her. “We did.”
Brennan rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him. He likes to put on a grumpy act when he meets new people.” He gestured for her to go first, and she turned. Grams fell in step with her, and he noticed Cora slow hers to match the older woman’s. Brennan’s heart softened at Cora’s kindness, and he paused to watch them go inside together, already chatting like old friends.
Grams had that affect on people, which was exactly why Brennan had brought Cora to meet his grandparents. Then he’d be able to get their opinion on her and ask advice for what to do.
So he was woefully out of practice when it came to women. He should’ve known that when he kissed her right in front of her family, without warning, without asking, and without really knowing much about her.
A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, and he headed for the air conditioned house, marveling at how much he had to think about after only a couple of hours with Cora. A real relationship with her—could he have one?
A new job, doing something that actually interested him—could that become a reality?
He honestly had no idea about either one, but he really, really wanted to find out.
Chapter Seven
Cora showed up at Station Two carrying six pizza boxes. “Sorry I’m late,” she called up the stairs before taking them as quickly as she could and maintain her grip on the Philly cheesesteak, all-meat, and Alfredo Hawaiian concoctions she’d spent good money on.
Charlie met her at the top of the steps. “There you are. Haven’t seen you all weekend.” He took the boxes, and Cora turned around to get the rest of the food out of the back of Brennan’s truck.
“Been busy. Family party, remember?” She ducked back outside and accepted the bag with 2-liter soda bottles and the big salad she’d ordered. She always got that for herself, hoping one of the men would eat it too. Usually one or two took pity on her and scooped a few leaves of lettuce onto their plates before drowning the salad in ranch dressing.
“Come on up,” she said, her heartbeat quivering as it tried to pump blood through her body.
“I’m coming up?” Brennan stared at her, expecting something serious from her. He’d asked her to share something important from her life, but it had never come up. They’d talked about his career and she hated hearing the sad tone he’d used when he talked about his job and his unrealized dreams of going to college.
But he’d perked up at his grandparent’s house, and Cora had admired that strong relationship. Gramps made her laugh, and Grams gave her the unconditional love Cora craved from her own mother. Cora had felt more at home in their home in a matter of minutes than she’d felt in her childhood home in half a decade.
“I kinda like you.” Cora grinned at him, glad when his feet shifted and he flushed. “Everyone will grill me mercilessly about you anyway. Might as well give them something to talk about, right?” She bumped him with her hip and added, “So grab the rest of those pizzas, and let’s go.”
Her pulse accelerated as she climbed the steps for the second time, and she told herself it was simply because of the steepness of the stairs. She entered the common room, where someone had set up the tables for the pizza. Charlie had just slapped a stack of paper plates on the table and swung his attention toward her.
“Salad,” she announced. “Soda.” She scanned the room to the chorus of Brennan’s footsteps, noticing that all the men were there, waiting to be fed. Of course they were. It was Sunday afternoon—boring—and they knew she’d bring pizza.
Brennan reached the top of the steps and Cora pulled the plastic bowl of salad from the bag with trembling fingers. Kent took the pizzas from Brennan with a hearty, “Hey, man,” and put them on the table.
Cora basked in the silence that never seemed to descend on Station Two. “So this is Brennan Fuller,” she said. “I think most of you know him.” She suddenly understood how hard it was to introduce him, as they hadn’t defined their relationship. Cora despised labels anyway, preferring to have some wiggle room when it came to who she was to someone else.
And maybe she simply wasn’t ready to admit she was in a real relationship with a man. She’d spent so long denying herself such pleasures, dedicating herself to a different path than where she’d been before.
Brennan grinned at her, a knowing glint in his eye. He waved to the group of men advancing slowly toward the table. They wouldn’t attack the food until Cora gave the go-ahead, and not only because she was their Captain. But because their curiosity sometimes overwhelmed their never-ending need to eat.
“So I’ll call you later,” he said, stepping over to her. He spoke loud enough to be heard by everyone but not so loud it was obvious he was trying to be heard. He swept his lips along her cheek, moved back, and waved to the men again before disappearing down the steps.
Cora absently lifted her hand to the spot where his lips had been, very aware of the pounding of her heart and the brightness of the fluorescent lights in the station. Kent started laughing, and Cora dropped her hand.
“Shut up,” she said. “Let’s eat.”
She expected the boys to let the show of affection go and fill their plates with food. No one did.
“So you’re dating him?” Charlie asked.
“No,” Cora said quickly.
“So he didn’t just kiss you?” Jorge said, the first to reach for a plate. He lifted one eyebrow that said, Yeah, right, girlfriend.
“It was an interesting weekend,” she said.
“Looks like it,” Miller said. “Our little Cora has herself a boyfriend.”
“He’s not—”
“After a single weekend,” Charlie added.
“I’ve heard good things about the Full
ers,” Max said, and Cora wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. She could probably leave and they wouldn’t notice.
Kent grabbed a slice of the cheesesteak pizza and fell back beside her. “Seriously, Cora. What’s going on with you two?”
Cora tucked her hands in the back pockets of her shorts and sighed. “I honestly don’t know.”
“You kiss him?”
“Technically, he kissed me,” she said. “And it was sort of necessary for the ruse at my family’s party.”
“Ohhh, I see. Necessary.” Kent took a bite of pizza and kept one eye on the all-meat pie he liked. “You spent a lot of time with him last week.”
“To be able to pull of a fake relationship at the party.”
“A fake relationship that looked very real just now.”
Fear darted through Cora, and she couldn’t swallow properly. Charlie joined them, a plate loaded up with salad and the Alfredo Hawaiian pizza for Cora. He handed it to her, and she nodded at him. Thankfully, no one asked her any other embarrassing questions and the conversation went back to who had the best record in the National League.
Cora ate her food, but the pizza she normally savored tasted like cardboard. By the time she crawled into the bunk way down on the end, away from the men on her squad, her thoughts screamed in her head.
She drew in a breath and thought about the pastor’s words from that morning. Believe that you’re good enough to make good decisions. And if you ever doubt, ask God.
Cora had relied on one thing since her divorce: her dream to become a hotshot. Every decision she made revolved around that. She knew nothing else. Trusted no other feeling, especially not the soft, sentimental ones that craved another kiss from Brennan Fuller.
She closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t claim her instantly. The whisper of Brennan’s scent tortured her, the softness of his lips against her cheek, the way he’d become part of her life without her even realizing it.
A smile stretched across her face, and she rolled over. Lord, she thought, the word clumsy in her mind. I’m not sure how to talk to you, but I’m wondering if you think it’s a good idea for me to continue dating Brennan Fuller?
