“And after he died?”
“Every Christmas feels like a knife in the heart.” She blinked back tears as he faced her. “He’s been gone almost half my life, and the second I hear that first Christmas song or see those garlands being strung across Monarch Lane, all I can think is how much he’d have loved what was coming.”
“That doesn’t make it meh.”
“No,” she whispered. “It just makes it very lonely.” She shivered when he lifted a hand to cup the side of her face. She should have stepped back, moved away, but she couldn’t. No. That wasn’t true. She didn’t want to. “It sounds kind of selfish, doesn’t it? I mean, everyone’s lost someone. Everyone. I’m not special.”
“I think you are.” Roman stepped closer. For a moment, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “Frankie?”
“Yes?” Her voice sounded detached, as if she’d been caught in a dream. She opened her eyes and found he’d lowered his face to hers, the silent question in his eyes shining like a twinkling star. Her heart pounded. She wet her lips and lifted her hand, but instead of pushing him away, instead of turning away, she leaned forward and took what he offered.
His kiss, much like the man, both tempted and irritated her. And for the very same reason. She wanted more. More of him, more of the way he made her feel, made her smile. Made her think beyond the boundaries she’d set for herself. His lips demanded an answer she gave; she stepped in, slipped an arm around his waist and for a long, unending moment, let herself surrender to the what-if.
When he lifted his mouth, he didn’t move away. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her face and resisted the urge to reach up, begin again. Instead, she lowered her head until her forehead rested against his chest. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
“Can’t and shouldn’t are two different things.” His fingers slipped into the length of her hair.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, he was right. But it was more than that. So much more. She couldn’t afford to feel like this; she didn’t want to. Falling for him, falling for anyone, meant giving up control, surrendering, not to mention the potentially devastating landing.
“Frankie?” She heard it in his voice, the underlying question telling her to argue with him, asking her to push aside unwritten regulation and even simple logic.
She stepped out of his arms. “Phoebe’s waiting for me.” Before he could say anything, she turned and walked away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
KISSING FRANKIE BETTENCOURT was supposed to get her out of his system.
It did not work.
Instead of wondering what it would be like to hold her in his arms, he knew. Now Roman was plagued with thoughts of making it happen again. And again. And not at the most appropriate times.
But where he appeared to be having problems working around their moonlight escapade, Frankie, it seemed, did not. If he hadn’t been a part of that kiss, he might have thought he’d dreamed it given how easily she appeared to have put it out of her head.
They’d had their share of calls in recent days, but luckily, nothing serious. A couple of fender benders, an accidental fall and a preteen who had waded too far out into the surf.
On the brighter side, Shirley and her daughter, Amelia, would be back in their house in another week or so. BethAnn Bottomley had rallied the troops and was working with the insurance company to promptly pay to repair the fire and water damage to the kitchen. Kendall was doing most of the construction, and Lori Bradley had corralled all the kids at the community center to hold a fund-raiser movie night to help the family cover extra costs.
While he remained on call for emergencies, Roman was enjoying his weekends off, especially yesterday’s fishing excursion on Monty’s new catamaran. Roman hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the male camaraderie he’d avoided at his previous jobs and, after spending a good eight hours with Monty, Luke, Jason Corwin, Xander Costas and Fletcher Bradley, the last of his unease over moving to a new state, a new town, evaporated.
It didn’t hurt that he’d come back with three good-size halibut, which he’d cleaned, gutted and stored in the deep freezer at the station.
Bright and early Sunday morning, he found himself standing in front of the youth center at the edge of town, a white paper bag filled with doughnuts in one hand, a tray holding two coffees in the other.
“Cold morning, there, Chief. You want to come inside?” Jake Gordon, the former sheriff and current operator of the youth center, hobbled down the road, wooden cane in hand to aid the decades-old injury that had changed more than just his life.
“I was hoping to.” Roman stepped back to admire the rebuilt exterior of what he’d heard had at one time been the town’s old meeting hall. Neglected and boarded up for years, it was Jake and Sheriff Luke Saxon who had taken on refurbishing and expanding the building to give the increasing number of kids in town a place to hang out, preferably productively. Word was they were looking for a new location, something significantly larger to accommodate the programming and hours they had planned. In the meantime, it was decked to the nines with thick pine garlands and frosted pinecones topped with tiny red bows.
Jake, shorter than Roman by at least a foot, shot a friendly smile at him as he unlocked the double doors. “Sorry I’m late. Finalizing wedding plans over breakfast.”
“I heard you’re getting married on New Year’s.” Roman followed him inside and set down the coffee and doughnuts while Jake flicked on the lights. The hardwood floors gleamed. The space was well organized. The Christmas tree in the corner displayed various wishes from kids in Butterfly Harbor and neighboring towns, some of which ranged from a collection of comic books to a new jacket.
Wishes, his father had often told him, went hand in hand with the season and had, for most of Roman’s life, played a major role in their celebrations. Every year growing up, his father and he had sat down before Thanksgiving dinner and written down various wishes they hoped would come true in the coming weeks. Some of those wishes, written on paper ornaments, had ended up on the tree later that night. Others he tucked under his pillow or stored in the drawer by his bed. Knowing firsthand the power of someone acknowledging your wishes and doing their best to make them come true, Roman plucked half a dozen from the youth center’s tree and tucked them into his pocket.
Sturdy compact tables crisscrossed the room, some with computers, others with art supplies. A video-gaming center was set up in the far corner, and in the back sat an industrial kitchen Roman had heard was stocked with healthy and some not-so-healthy snacks and treats. “Congratulations on the upcoming nuptials.”
“Starting the new year right,” Jake confirmed. “Still can’t quite believe Selina agreed to take me on. We’ve known each other going on twenty years, but that spark didn’t hit until recently. Strangest thing to ever happen in my life.”
Just the mention of that spark had an image of Frankie blasting through his head even as a pang of envy hit Roman in the chest. He’d met his share of people in Butterfly Harbor, most of them around his age, and most of them were happily besotted in wedded bliss, defying most town’s divorce and disillusionment rates by miles. Not that he wanted what Jake had, but he’d certainly been rethinking some of his life choices. He needed to stop these thoughts before he spoke to his mother again. Even through the phone she could pick up on them easily.
“What brings you by, Chief?” Jake walked over to the small wooden teacher’s desk by the front door. He set his cane on the hook on the wall, clicked his computer on and sat back in the spring-loaded wooden chair.
“A couple of things. Doughnut?” Roman offered the bag.
“Chrysalis Bakery?” Jake’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. “My weakness.” He reached in and pulled out a chocolate old-fashioned. “And my favorite. Who squealed?”
“I might have asked your daughter. After she talked me into taking thre
e leftover pies off her hands for the department.” Frankie was correct. The one disappointment so far had been the lack of necessity to cook. Everywhere he turned, someone was giving them food!
“Be grateful you weren’t here when Holly was pregnant with the twins.” Jake accepted the coffee and toasted him with it. “I think there was a pie in every fridge in town by the time those little ones arrived. I believe I’ve finally eaten my lifetime quota.”
Roman grinned. There were worse things to suffer during a loved one’s pregnancy. Or so he was told. “I understand you were sheriff when Frankie’s dad was chief.”
Jake nodded. “Sure was. Tybalt and I went through school together. Preschool all the way to senior year. Horrible what happened to him. Real loss to the town, I’ll tell you. Real loss to all of us.”
“A wildfire, wasn’t it?” Roman hadn’t asked Frankie. It hadn’t felt right, not when he’d seen a hint of grief wash across her face whenever she talked about her father.
“Yeah. We were called in as backup. Wildfire just south of Napa. Not sure how much experience you have with high winds where you’ve worked, but around here, they’ve been killer. Literally. Wasn’t anyone’s fault. Tybalt was just caught at the wrong time in the wrong place. Killed him and two firefighters out of San Francisco. Just gone.” Jake snapped his fingers.
“Frankie was sixteen then?”
“Sounds right. She’s just like her dad, in case you were wondering. Tenacious, dedicated. She had to wait a few years, but she stepped right into his shoes. Makes every call personal, treats everyone with the care you’d want your family to have.” Jake’s gaze flickered with uncertainty. “I can’t imagine you coming in has been easy for her.”
“No.” Roman shook his head, sipped his coffee. “It hasn’t been. And I completely understand why. She never talks about her mom.”
Jake frowned, and in a snap, his face tensed. “I’m not the right person to come to for gossip.”
“Not looking for gossip. Just information.” Because there was still a lot about Frankie he didn’t know or understand. “Frankie told me about her run-in with the law when she was fifteen.”
Jake snort-laughed. “For a while everyone in town thought she’d turn activist rather than follow in Tybalt’s footsteps. Girl always has her heart in the right place, though, and she wasn’t wrong about old Mr. Walters. That old codger was as mean as they came, and the poor animals were suffering for it. Only person to ever do anything about it was Frankie, and it broke her heart when she couldn’t keep old Lucifer—that was the cat’s name. Roxie was allergic.”
“Roxie?”
“Frankie and Monty’s mother.” A bit of the humor faded from Jake’s face. “Wasn’t exactly the maternal sort, but she got one look at Tybalt in that fireman’s uniform of his and she had her sights set. Of course, she thought he was going places, but he only had eyes for Butterfly Harbor. She stuck it out until Frankie and Monty graduated from high school, but their bond had been with Tybalt, not her. Last I heard she was working in Vegas as a blackjack dealer.”
“Frankie doesn’t see her?” Not surprising given Frankie’s reaction the other day when he’d asked about her surviving parent.
“I doubt Frankie gives Roxie a thought. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like it’s bad blood or anger. It’s just...” Jake shrugged. “Ambivalence.”
That might be one of the saddest things Roman had ever heard. As frustrated as his mother made him, especially when it came to his lack of long-term relationships, he couldn’t imagine her not being part of his life. She and his dad had been partners in every way, right down to raising him, and he was all the better for it.
“Why do you want to know about her?” Jake asked.
“Roxie? No reason, really. I just thought it strange no one mentions her given how much I’ve heard about Tybalt. It’s actually him I wanted to talk about. Seeing as you guys grew up together, I’m hoping I’ve come to the right person.”
“Okay.” Jake was back to looking skeptical.
“I checked out that little house across the street from the station. Frankie seemed—” Roman searched for the right word “—upset.”
“Only because nothing ever came of that place,” Jake said. “Tybalt had plans. Big plans for all that area, but he did not go about getting it in the traditional way. Some would argue he flat out beat the Hamiltons at their own game. He negotiated with the property owner and got into a bidding war with the city. The mayor at the time, that would have been Gil’s grandfather, didn’t take kindly to the idea. Legacy mayorship,” Jake added, filling in another of those town blanks for Roman.
“Any idea what Tybalt planned to do with the land and house?”
“Frankie doesn’t know?”
“She knew about the house, of course, said he’d wanted to make it a place for the chief. I didn’t push on the rest.” Roman dug out a doughnut, considered it for a moment. “I get the feeling her dad’s a bit of a touchy subject.” Just talking about him on the beach the other night had brought her to tears.
“Then readjust your barometer,” Jake suggested. “She’ll tell you anything you need to know about Tybalt. But she might not know about his plans for the house. I remember Tybalt talked about turning the area into a training and education center. I haven’t been a volunteer with the department for a long time, but back when I was sheriff, we had a pretty well-staffed department. Didn’t need more than two or three volunteers.”
“Now we have half a dozen.”
“Gil’s father gutted the budget. One of his parting gifts before he drove the town into near bankruptcy, then up and died.” Bitterness coated Jake’s words. “Gil’s pretty much been trying to rebuild everything his father and grandfather broke. Not that he’s going about it in the right way. Must be a family trait.”
“Not a fan?”
Jake grimaced and drank his coffee. “You’d be hard-pressed to find many people in town who are. It’s not that what he does is bad. A lot of his ideas have been a boon for the town. And while I might still be a bit resentful that he pushed me out as sheriff, if he hadn’t, Holly wouldn’t have met and married Luke, something I wasn’t sure would ever happen again after her first marriage. Even better, I wouldn’t have two new grandbabies to fawn over.”
“Silver lining?”
“Best one possible.” Jake toasted him with his coffee. “That butterfly sanctuary we’ve got going up will be a huge tourist draw, but again, Gil alienated a lot of people with the manner in which he went about things. Do you have any idea how hard it is to tick off Calliope Jones Costas?”
Given what Roman had seen of her, he’d have thought it next to impossible.
“Gil just goes about things in the wrong way,” Jake went on. “Someone always ends up getting hurt either personally or professionally. Me? I’ve always thought Gil could do with a good dose of reality. Someone needs to pop his bubble.”
They definitely agreed on that. “If he’s so disliked, how was he reelected?”
“He ran unopposed.” Jake winced and stretched out his leg. “And, honestly, no one else wanted the job. Not when they’d have to deal with the fallout of what he’s wrought. I can’t even imagine having to clean up his messes.”
“So there’s no truth to the rumor that you’re going to run against him in a recall election?”
Jake guffawed. “Nope. I’ve done my time in the trenches. Politics is a younger person’s game, at least here in Butterfly Harbor. I get my fill listening to and advising Luke, not that he complains much. But even my son-in-law has his limits.”
The front door banged open, and a young woman stumbled inside, her arms filled. “Hey, Jake. I’ve got the salads for tonight’s movie. Oh, hi.” Big blue eyes peeked over the top of the grocery bags. Roman caught sight of a thick black braid curving over one shoulder of her white chef’s uniform. “You’re the new fire ch
ief.” She angled a smile at him. “Alethea Costas. My brother mentioned meeting you. Nice to put a face to the name.”
“And you.” Roman nodded, tried to push aside Jake’s last warning, then plucked the bags out of her arms. “Kitchen?”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, thanks. I’ve got more in the car outside.”
After divesting himself of the first load, he went to help her unpack the rest. “What is all this?”
“Leftovers from the food truck. We’re hosting that movie tonight to help raise money for Shirley’s new kitchen appliances. Her insurance is only covering about half.” She hefted one of the bags. “Going to make a big batch of spaghetti and then offer side salads and hot chocolate floats for dessert.”
“So it’s not just for the kids.”
“No way. Admission is ten bucks each or twenty for a family of four or more. If it goes well, we’ll make it a monthly event to raise money for a new van for youth center field trips. Hey, Jake.” Alethea nodded at him as they headed back inside. “Give him one of our flyers, would you?” She disappeared into the kitchen.
“Alethea was driving the van when it broke down,” Jake explained, doing as he was instructed and handing over a flyer. “She decided we need a new one. She’s probably right. The thing’s more than twenty years old and was donated to us.”
Roman glanced at the flyer, then scanned their calendar of events. “Do they teach machinery and mechanics at the high school?”
“Used to.” Jake arched a brow when Roman looked back at him.
“Right. Budget cuts. I can cover you on that if you want to add it to the schedule. Never too early to learn about cars, since most are going to drive one at some point.”
“How long for each class?” Jake was already scribbling.
“A couple of hours?” Roman was spitballing at this point. He’d jot down some ideas when he got back to the station.
The Firefighter's Thanksgiving Wish Page 14
