The Widow's Protector

by Stephanie Newton

  Hunter stood in the doorway, wearing gray sweatpants and a ratty FBFD T-shirt that he’d obviously just pulled on. The light from the television flickered behind him.

  He’d probably been asleep, since he hadn’t slept last night and he had a shift at the fire department starting early tomorrow. She should’ve thought of that. She fought the urge to run away as she stood there awkwardly.

  His hair was sticking up on one side. She found it adorable. She wanted to run her fingers through it.

  He blinked at her and scratched his shoulder. “Fiona? Is everything okay?”

  Words were really meaningless, when what she wanted to do was touch him. She reached for his T-shirt, bringing him so close to her that she stepped between his feet. His lips parted, whether to question her or to stop her, she didn’t know, but she took advantage of his indecision. She stood on tiptoe and sealed her mouth to his.

  For a moment, he didn’t move. Then his hands found her face in the most gentle of caresses, one hand diving into her hair, spilling it out of its clip.

  He murmured her name and deepened the kiss, his hand sliding down to the small of her back to settle there, and press her closer still. “Fiona.”

  Without taking a breath, he kissed her again, his lips drinking her in like he’d been deprived of water for days and she was the spring.

  “I can’t.” He pulled away. “I can’t.” Then, “Fiona, why are you here?”

  She remained still, just breathing, feeling his arms around her, testing how it felt to be held by him. She smiled.

  Good—it felt really good. And it scared the daylights out of her.

  “I was just wondering. Now I know.” She took a step back, out of his arms. Immediately, she missed the warmth. “I’ll see you in a day or two.”

  Fee could feel his eyes on her as she walked to the car, and wanted to run. What had she done?

  She resolutely refused to turn back, but as she climbed into her car and pulled out of the driveway, she caught a glimpse of him. He stood against the doorway, watching her.

  Her heart pounded with uncertainty as her eyes caught on his. He was her friend and in one crazy, impulsive move, she’d turned their relationship on its ear.

  She’d wanted to know. Now the question was, what did she do about it?

  * * *

  At 4:00 a.m. Hunter gave up on sleep and roamed the house for an hour. At five, he went to the fire station. He figured if he couldn’t sleep off the memory of Fiona’s kiss, maybe he could work it off. He turned on the music in the workout room, started the treadmill and cranked up the incline. He wanted his muscles burning so bad that his brain wouldn’t engage.

  He’d spent the past thirteen years burying his feelings for Fiona, pushing them deeper and deeper until even he had trouble remembering where they were. She was Jimmy’s wife. That part he had no trouble remembering. The three of them had been intricately woven into each other’s lives.

  Fiona’s mom had brought Hunter into the Fitzgerald fold when he was too young to know the difference between family and people who lived in the same house. At sixteen, when Hunter broke his arm trying to rappel down the cliffs to the ocean, it was Jimmy who’d hauled him up and taken him to the E.R. and called his mom. They’d all double dated to the Junior-Senior Prom. Hunter had stood up at their wedding. And he’d been there when Sean was dedicated to the Lord.

  Over the years, Hunter and Jimmy had gone through doors into the fire together. Gone on dozens of fishing trips. Held countless barbecues. He’d listened as Jimmy had planned a life with Fiona, one that had ended abruptly two years ago.

  Hunter bumped up the speed on the treadmill as sweat began to drip down his back. He’d also been there in the flames when Jimmy had been trapped under a burning staircase. Had felt Jimmy’s hand at his back, shoving him to safety. Hunter’s chest burned, but it wasn’t from the exercise.

  It was guilt.

  Jimmy had saved his life. And what had Hunter gotten in return? A medal he didn’t want, for bravery on the job. A promotion that had belonged to Jimmy.

  He wasn’t going to take advantage of Fiona. It was one thing he wasn’t going to take from Jimmy. He’d repressed those feelings for a reason. He and Fiona were friends. He didn’t want to have romantic feelings for her. He didn’t have romantic feelings for her.

  Yeah, couldn’t prove it by the five minutes he’d spent kissing her on his front porch last night. He was so stupid. All he’d had to do was step away from her. Instead he’d inhaled her. And God help him, given the chance, he would do it again. He bumped the speed up one more time until he was running so fast that he couldn’t even hear the music.

  Friends. He was comfortable being her friend. How did a person go from being friends with someone to being more? Especially when that someone had been married to his best friend?

  His feet pounded on the treadmill. The truth was, he couldn’t go there without feeling like he’d betrayed his friend. Without feeling like he’d stolen everything: Jimmy’s life, Jimmy’s job, Jimmy’s wife.

  He wouldn’t do it.

  Punching the button, he slowed the treadmill to a jog and realized Danny Fitzgerald was standing in the now open door. “You been there long?”

  Danny walked toward him and straddled the weight bench beside him. “Long enough to see you running like a crazy person. Are you trying to run away from something or catch up with something?”

  The rhythmic jolt of his feet hitting the treadmill filled the room. Finally, Hunter said, “I don’t know. Maybe a little bit of both.”

  The other firefighter nodded. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe what they’re accusing you of.”

  Hunter stabbed the down arrow on the machine and slowed to a walk. “I appreciate that. It’s probably not a popular position in your family.”

  With a shrug, Danny said, “I know they must have reason to suspect what they do. They’re not usually quick on the trigger. But I also know from fighting fires that the easiest explanation for what happened sometimes isn’t the best explanation.”

  Hunter focused his attention on the screen on the treadmill in front of him, his throat suddenly tight. He hadn’t expected support, not from anyone in the fire department, certainly not from the Fitzgeralds in the fire department. “Thanks, Danny. I’m not sure anyone is going to want to work with me.”

  “I’ll go through the door with you any day. Everyone here feels the same.” Danny pushed to his feet.

  Hunter turned off the machine, letting it slow to a stop. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “So, you gonna work out or are you just here to watch?”

  “I’m leaving.” Danny turned back in the door. “Oh, by the way, I got to thinking the other day about how we could raise some money to help Betsie—and Fiona and all the merchants on Main Street—with the damage from the fires. I set up a firefighter versus cop softball game for Saturday afternoon. I’m gonna hang some flyers around town when I leave here.”

  “Most of the players are your family.” He was out of breath, definitely time for the cool down.

  Danny let out a snort of laughter. “Too true, it wasn’t that hard to organize. I need you to get my cousin to bring her famous chocolate-chip cookies. We’re going to sell hamburger dinners, too. My dad and Uncle Aiden already agreed to cook.”

  It would be awkward, to say the least, for Hunter to face off against the Fitzgerald Bay cops, but how could he say no? Only for Fiona. “You got it.”

  “Thanks.” Danny made a contemplative face. “I’m starving. I wonder if there’s any lasagna left from last night.”

  Hunter stepped off the treadmill and grabbed the towel he’d left hanging over the weight bar. Danny had made him feel better, but the truth was that Danny couldn’t know whether Hunter was guilty or not. Which left him with a horrifying thought, one that he’d dismissed before, but had to seriously consider now.

  What if the arsonist really was a firefighter?

  Could the person who set all those
fires be someone they all worked with? Could the person who had killed Jimmy actually wear the same firefighters’ cross they all wore? The cross was a symbol of honor and courage, a visible reminder of the promise each one had made to protect and serve.

  He toweled off his hair and decided to go for a shower and a nap, in that order. His mind wasn’t getting any clearer until he got some sleep.

  Hunter refused to believe it. He’d worked with these guys. He just couldn’t accept that any of them would make a mockery of the badge they wore.

  EIGHT

  The day of the softball game, the sun was beaming onto Fitzgerald Bay, the temperature rising into the sixties. Fiona had the windows open in her toasty warm kitchen as she pulled the twelfth pan of bar cookies out of the oven and set them on a hot pad on the counter to cool.

  She wasn’t sure exactly how she’d gotten roped into this assignment. Hunter promised, with three fingers over his heart, that it was her cousin Danny’s idea. Danny said that her chocolate-chip bar cookies were the favorite of everyone at the fire department, that whenever anyone mentioned them, the whole fire department sighed. She knew Danny was flattering her, but when her cousin turned on that Fitzgerald charm he was hard to resist.

  She called out the window to her son who seemed determined to give her a heart attack climbing on the play gym in the yard. “Sean, stop dangling! Both legs on the bar or you’re coming inside for a bath before the game.”

  He and Hunter had built that play gym together last summer. She had a hilarious video of five-year-old Sean learning how to hammer nails, which ended with Hunter and a very sore thumb.

  She sliced through the pan of cookies that had already cooled and looked out the window in time to see him drop to the ground on all fours. She whispered a prayer that he would live to see adulthood. How did any of them survive? She and Hunter had had some harrowing adventures as children.

  In seconds, Sean was by her side. “Did you already turn the water on?”

  “What?” The bath had been a threat—he wasn’t supposed to want to do it.

  He bounced around her, a six-year-old bundle of energized nerve endings. “I want to use the mask and snorkel Hunter gave me. It’s too cold to use it in the ocean yet.”

  “You don’t have time for a long soak in the tub.” She wiped the knife on the paper towel and began to slice again. “It’s almost time for the game. You need to wash your…” As he ran out the door, she called after him. “…face and hands. Sean! And put your shoes on.”

  She turned back to her pan of cookies and caught a glimpse of Hunter in athletic shorts and a bright red T-shirt, coming across her yard. She hadn’t seen him alone since the kiss the other night, though she’d certainly thought about it plenty. Hadn’t been sure she would ever see him for a casual visit again.

  He knocked on her door, opening it as she called for him to come in. “I thought you might need help carrying the cookies.”

  Her arm still in a splint, carrying the cookies would’ve been a challenge for her. Thoughtful Hunter came through as usual, even though she could tell the last place he wanted to be was standing alone with her in her kitchen. She hadn’t meant for things to be awkward between them, but after laying a kiss on him—and oh, boy, what a kiss—she couldn’t really blame him.

  He wouldn’t meet her eyes. She had to put a stop to this. “Hunter, I promise I’m not going to kiss you again. Not unless you want me to.”

  Turning away from her to pick up the pans of cookies, he said, “I’d really rather we just pretend like the other night never happened.”

  Fee considered it. While the idea had merit, she wasn’t sure it was actually in their best interest. Or actually possible, for that matter. “I guess we can pretend. I’m pretty sure I’m not actually going to forget about it, though.”

  “Fiona, I’m serious.” Hunter placed the pans of cookies back on the counter and swiped his forehead across the shoulder of his T-shirt, abruptly changing the subject. “Can I have a bottle of water?”

  “Of course.” The beginning of panic started, that maybe she’d really messed things up. He was her friend and more than anything else, she valued that friendship. She put her hand on his back and he jumped away like he’d been burned. Wow, he really was serious. She would be hurt except that she had the memory of that kiss to remind her that his feelings were probably as complicated as hers.

  “Hunter, listen. I know there’s a lot going on right now. It was probably a mistake the other night. In fact, I’m sure it was a mistake. We’ll forget it ever happened.”

  He turned to look at her and his eyes were full of emotion. Hurt. Longing? “I’ll be your friend as long as you’ll have me, Fiona. But there can’t be anything else between us.”

  She held his eyes. She wanted to say something, anything, but the right words just wouldn’t seem to form.

  Sean ran into the room, carrying his glove. “Okay, I’m ready to go! Do you have your baseball glove in the car, Hunter?”

  Hunter held her eyes another long second and turned to Sean. “I do have my glove, sport, and I see you’ve got yours so you can play catch during the game.” Hunter tucked the bottle of water under his arm and picked up the tray of cookies again, laughing at something Sean said as he followed him out the door and to the truck. To her ears, the laugh sounded forced.

  She leaned against the fridge, letting her head drop back to rest against the cool stainless-steel surface. Could she be any more dumb? She could’ve totally ruined the best friendship of her life.

  Hunter loaded the cookies into his truck on the backseat by Sean’s car seat and buckled Sean in. She could hear him talking to Sean, his deep voice alternating with Sean’s high, excited tones.

  She moved to the counter to slice the rest of the bar cookies. Did she really want to risk that friendship, risk his relationship with Sean? Romantic relationships didn’t always work out. Sometimes they just created problems where none existed before.

  She and Hunter had a lot more to think about than a kiss, even a very, very good kiss. She wanted to be there for him as a friend, the way he’d been here for her, when she’d needed him. She didn’t want to confuse things for him more. Besides, maybe she was just imagining the chemistry. These things happened, right?

  Hunter stuck his head back in the door. “Natives getting restless. You ready?”

  There was that little curl of heat, right there in her belly when she looked at him. No, she definitely wasn’t imagining the chemistry.

  “Yep. Just need you to carry these.” She gestured to the pan. As he took the cookies, she gathered her sweater and purse. She turned back around in time to catch a glimpse of Hunter’s strong muscular arms as he lifted the tray of cookies, and sighed. Nope, not her imagination.

  At the ballpark, she followed Hunter toward the area where the food tables were set up. There were a few early arrivals, putting their chairs by the fence, a few kids who had come with their moms or dads for batting practice who were having a ball in the red dirt. Sean took off like a streak to join them. Mentally, she groaned at the laundry she was going to have to do later.

  An event like this in Fitzgerald Bay would bring together the whole town. Tears gathered, stinging her eyes. They were all coming together to support her and Betsie, to help rebuild downtown.

  The familiar smoky smell of the grill led them to the food table. As Hunter slid one tray of cookies down, her father was the first to turn around from where he was flipping burgers.

  He didn’t look welcoming. “Reece.”

  “Sir.” Hunter didn’t smile, either, just slid the rest of the cookies onto the table. He didn’t touch her—he’d been very careful not to touch her today—just cast a look her direction. “I’ll see you after the game.”

  As Hunter walked toward the field, her father said, “I don’t think you should be seeing him right now. I can’t tell you why, but I think it’s in your best interest.”

  He scowled at Hunter’s back and glanced at
her face. “And Sean’s,” he added for good measure.

  “Did you think he wouldn’t tell me what he’s been accused of?”

  Her father blinked twice. “I assumed…”

  “Yes, and there are a lot of people in this town making assumptions about Charles, too. Don’t you think Hunter should get the same benefit of doubt you want them to give Charles?” Behind her, the ball slapped into the catcher’s glove as the pitchers warmed up.

  “That’s different.” Her father took a tray of already finished burgers from his brother.

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, reminding herself she was a grown woman with a child of her own. “Why, Dad?”

  “Because Charles didn’t kill Olivia Henry.”

  “You’re right. Charles didn’t. And Hunter didn’t set the fire that killed Jimmy. He was devastated when Jimmy died.”

  Her father leaned closer so that no one would overhear. “Sweetheart, I know that you and Hunter have been friends a long time. I’m not saying he did it, and I love the boy like one of my own, but people do things you can never imagine. Sometimes they feel horribly guilty about them.”

  She stared into her father’s eyes, the eyes that every one of the Fitzgerald children bore. What other traits did they get from their father? She hoped she hadn’t gotten the one that made her distrust everyone and everything.

  “Mom, watch!”

  She turned around just in time to see Sean jump from the top of the bleachers to the grass. Fortunately, it wasn’t nearly as high as he thought it was.

  “Wow! You were really up there! Be careful, Sean.” She turned back to her father. “Hunter is the one who was there when no one else was. He’s the one who fixes things that break around my house. He stayed home when Sean had the stomach virus and I had to work. He’s the one who thought to come by today because I might need help to get here after being hurt in the fire at my store. No one else.”