“It does, actually. I know what it’s like when a parent doesn’t come home. No one’s ever the same. The grief never goes away. It settles. Here.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “I’d never want that for my child.” Now she met his gaze and didn’t waver. “I don’t want it for myself.”
“Life’s not worth living without taking a few chances.” It was all he could do not to reach out and stroke a finger down her cheek. “Living in fear of what might happen robs you of any happiness you might find in the meantime.”
“That’s a pretty serious statement to come out of a fortune cookie.”
“My mom married a firefighter, and that turned out pretty well.” He hesitated, but then decided to dive in. “Your mom married one, too.”
“I don’t think Roxie is the best example to use in this discussion.” Frankie’s eyes clouded with disinterest. “She married the uniform, not the man. Something that was made very obvious when he died.”
“Oh?”
“Let’s just say my mother clutched the flag she was given harder than she ever hugged me or Monty.” She waved away the comment. “That’s neither here nor there.”
Oh, but it was there. He could feel the pain she was carefully trying to conceal. “So...kids of your own?”
Frankie looked at him. “I’d like them. At least one. But there’s a lot of life I have to figure out before I make that decision. What about your AF? Did she ever have kids?”
Roman nodded. “Four. All under seven.”
“Ugh. Ouch.” Frankie winced. “What’s her husband do? Let me guess. He’s a nice safe accountant.”
“He’s a Navy SEAL.”
Frankie blinked. “A...huh.”
“Yep.” Roman gave that slow nod of disbelief. “Seems she changed her mind once she met the right guy.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I’m not.” And he wasn’t. Because he was just now realizing that if he’d taken that path, he never would have come to Butterfly Harbor. Or met Frankie. “I’m glad she was honest and saved me the embarrassment of actually asking her. We wouldn’t have lasted. Obviously we weren’t the other’s one.”
“Do you believe in that? People having ‘the one’?” She air-quoted it.
He was beginning to. But no way would Frankie ever believe him. “Who’s to say? But it does remind me of something I’ve been wanting to do.”
“What’s that?”
“This.” Before she could say another word, he reached out, cupped his hand against the back of her neck and brought her closer to him. He’d needed to know if what he’d felt on the beach was real or simply an effect of a moon working its magic. Kissing her, feeling her mouth under his, hearing her gentle sigh as she sank into him erased any doubt and had his meticulously mapped-out future taking an unplanned turn into the unknown. “You’re something, Frankie, you know that?” he murmured against her lips when she leaned back. “Everything all rolled into one amazing, beautiful, infuriating package.”
“Roman...” She shook her head. “Whatever it is you think is happening—”
“I know what’s happening. And I don’t want to stop it. I like you. A lot.”
He heard her breath catch in hope, but when she raised her head, he saw sadness shimmering in her eyes. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” He stroked a finger down her cheek and felt oddly alone when she turned away from his touch and stood up.
“Because.” She looked over her shoulder. “You’re not staying.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“HEY, LUKE.” FRANKIE stopped at the booth where Sheriff Saxon was seated at the Butterfly Diner the next morning. Exactly the person she was hoping to find here now that her shift had ended.
She’d managed to avoid speaking with Roman about anything other than work for the rest of the night, which had consisted of only two calls, one of which turned out to be, ironically enough, a new young mother having a panic attack over her baby boy’s first fever. She and Jasper had managed to get both mom and baby calmed down and walk the mom through running a steam bath in the shower to help with the infant’s discomfort. A suggestion from the pediatrician, the mom told them.
“Frankie.” Luke beamed up at her, expertly bracing Zoe’s baby bottle with his arm while he ate his breakfast. “Have a seat.”
“Sure you aren’t busy?” Why did it seem every conversation she had these days featured babies?
“Nah. Zoe here’s keeping up with me, aren’t you?” The dark-haired baby grinned around the nipple, and milk oozed out of her mouth. “Sorry. That’s unappetizing. What’s on your mind? New plan of action to fight Gil?”
“I wish.” So far her plan of action had been limited to regaling anyone who asked about the most recent conversation she’d had with the mayor. The town was on a low simmer, as if waiting for someone to turn up the heat.
Instead of focusing on saving the department, though, she found herself trapped in the memory of that oh-so-perfect kiss she’d shared with Roman last night. In the firehouse. What was she thinking? He was absolutely the last man she could ever get involved with. The last man she wanted to be involved with, and yet... “I’d like to talk to you about Ozzy, actually. With Roman laid up—”
“You mean Splatman?”
Frankie couldn’t help it. She laughed. “I knew that one would stick. With Roman down for the count, I was really hoping you could spare Ozzy for a couple of weeks. Maybe through New Year’s? It’s busy season for most everyone else, and while Kendall said she can come in a few hours a day, Ozzy really knows what he’s doing.”
She wasn’t surprised to see the sheriff’s welcoming expression turn a bit dour. “Have you talked to Oz about this?”
“No. I wanted to talk to you first. It’s your department. I wouldn’t go behind your back. I just need someone I can trust.”
“He’s that good, huh?”
Frankie inclined her head. “You know he is, Luke. And you know he’s been wanting to do more as a deputy.”
“And he thinks I’ve been holding him back.”
“Have you?”
Zoe gurgled and kicked her feet at her father, who adjusted his hold so his daughter could grab onto his pinkie.
“Yes, he has.” Holly came over with a full coffeepot and hot mug for Frankie. “But only because he has a good heart.” She wrapped an arm around her husband’s shoulders and squeezed.
“Ozzy’s still young,” Luke argued.
“He’s twenty-six,” Holly said. “He’s not a rookie just out of the academy and he’s not reckless. You can’t keep him safe forever.”
Frankie wasn’t sure exactly what Holly was referring to, but apparently Luke understood and the comment flipped a switch.
“Ozzy’s always been the first one to come when the call goes out when he’s off duty,” Frankie said. “On his days off, he’s hanging around the station either working out or helping out. He’s got great potential, Luke.”
“Your job’s dangerous.”
“So’s yours. Life’s dangerous.” Why did this feel like a continuation of her conversation with Roman? “Do you trust me, Luke?”
“You know I do.”
“Do you trust Ozzy?” Holly asked and earned a knowing look from her husband for that question. “There’s your answer. Let him spread his wings a bit, honey. He’ll fly back, don’t worry.”
“I promise it’s temporary.” Frankie held up her hand as if taking an oath. “Just until Roman’s back on his feet.”
“How is Roman?” Holly asked. “Must be tough on him being tied to the station.”
“He’s been going through all the old station files, so he’s keeping busy.”
“Can I get you some breakfast?”
“No. I’m actually headed home to crash. It’s been a long couple of days. So, Ozzy?” She turned her attention back to
Luke.
“You can have him through January. I’ll have to rework some schedules. Not everyone’s going to be happy about it.”
“Ozzy might be,” Holly said.
“You want to tell him?” Luke asked Frankie.
“No. It’ll mean more coming from you. Thanks, Luke. I really appreciate this.” Not only because she needed the help, but because he’d be another buffer between her and Roman.
“Okay, well, you’ll owe me one. Or five.”
“Don’t worry.” Holly gave him another squeeze. “She’ll be around to repay.”
Guilt clanged like a bell in Frankie’s stomach when she smiled, but she refrained from agreeing. Fifteen minutes later she walked in her front door, kicked off her shoes the second she was inside and stripped on the way to the bedroom. Wearing only her sports bra and underwear she planted, face-first, on the unmade bed and, after turning her head so she wouldn’t suffocate, dropped into sleep.
* * *
“THIS ONE CAN go over, too.” Roman tapped the top of the file box with one of his crutches when Jasper returned to the office.
“I think I prefer the weights,” Jasper groaned as he hefted the box and headed back out. “Hey, Mrs. S.”
“Jasper. Is my son keeping you busy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
At the sound of his mother’s voice, Roman hobbled frantically back to the chair and had just planted his butt when she walked in. “Hey, Mom.”
She narrowed her eyes, dropped the box she’d been carrying, along with her purse, then bent down, grabbed the trash can and flipped it over. “Leg. Here. Now.” Roman sighed and did as he was told. Not that he had a choice, given she grabbed his crutches and put them across the room. “Did you eat?”
“Breakfast, yes.” Although he didn’t think she’d consider fruit ring cereal a nutritious choice. “How’s the hotel?”
“Spectacular.” Ezzie leaned in to check the kitchen, her mouth twisted into something akin to disapproval. “The ocean puts me right to sleep. Reminds me of the cruise ships. Those darlings Abby and Lori had breakfast sent to my room this morning. Lemon ricotta pancakes. They were so delicious I had to stop in the kitchen on my way out and give my compliments to the chef.”
“Mom.” Roman could only imagine how that went. “You can’t just go into the kitchen of a restaurant to talk to the chef.”
“Of course I can.” Ezzie looked dumbfounded at the notion as she opened her box. “That Jason Corwin is a handsome young man. And so polite. You know, I’ve heard people think he’s a bit of a grouch, but I didn’t see that at all.”
Probably because she wasn’t looking. Jason could be a bit intense, especially where his kitchen was concerned. Or so he’d been teased on their fishing trip the other weekend.
“This town is simply charming. It’s so refreshing being able to walk everywhere. And the little stores along the way. I might have stopped at that bakery near the bookstore.”
“I don’t blame you. What’s that you’ve got?” He started to stand but froze when his mother shot him “the look.” From the box, she lifted the handmade polished-oak humidor that had sat in his father’s office for as long as Roman could remember. “Dad’s cigar box.”
“I told you I was going to give it to you.”
“I didn’t expect you to bring it with you on the plane.” But he accepted the box gratefully. “Mom, thank you.” He smoothed his hands over the engraved top, memories washing over him with the strength of a moon tide.
“It’s my treasure box,” his father had whispered in Roman’s five-year-old ear. “Your mother thinks it’s where I keep my cigars so she won’t go near it.” Tony Salazar slipped his arm around Roman’s shoulder and unlatched the lock, lifted the lid. Inside were bundled letters tied with ribbon, countless scraps of paper with scribbled notes on them, a few small boxes and one dried sprig of mistletoe. “I asked your mother to marry me under this.” Tony motioned to the dried plant. “Best decision I ever made. Best Christmas gift I could have ever received was when she said yes. Before you came along, at least.” Tony had hugged and tickled Roman to the point of contagious laughter. “This box holds all my wishes, Roman. All the ones I still have, all the ones that have come true. One day, far in the future, this will be your box for you to keep your wishes in.”
“Mama won’t look?” Roman had asked and, when his father closed the box, he flattened his small hands over the hand-carved image of a thicket of trees with tiny butterflies darting among the branches.
“Mama won’t look,” Tony promised. “You’ll take care of this when I’m gone, okay?”
“Where are you going, Daddy?”
“Nowhere for a very long time, I hope.” Tony drew Roman close. “Not for a very, very long time.”
“Roman?” His mother’s hand on his arm jolted Roman out of the memory. “Are you all right?”
“Sure.” He wasn’t embarrassed about the tears blurring his vision. How could he be when he knew how much his father had loved him? Roman looked down at the carved lid, smoothed a solitary finger over the butterfly. “It’s funny. This looks just like where they’re building the butterfly sanctuary,” he told her.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Ezzie circled around him and laid her hands on his shoulders. “I walked up there the other day, stopped at that lovely little organic farm.” Ezzie bent down and rested her cheek against his, covered Roman’s hand with hers as he embraced the box that had held his father’s dreams. “He loved you very much. He would be so proud of you. Almost as proud as I am.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He knew it, of course, but hearing it eased the pain of loss. A little, at least.
“So.” Ezzie stood up and started toward a stack of boxes. “What can I help with?”
“Ah, nothing, actually.” Roman leaned forward and set the humidor carefully on the desk.
“No? What is all this?” She pried open one of the boxes and pulled out a file. “Oh. Incident reports. How...”
“Boring, I know. But I need to sort through them.”
“Why? What are you looking for?” When Roman didn’t respond, she looked up from shuffling a bunch of papers. “Roman?”
“The purchase information for the house across the way.” Roman figured it couldn’t hurt to tell someone, and his mother would be leaving soon, so... “Frankie’s dad had plans for it, and I’m trying to find out what they were.”
Ezzie sighed, pressed a hand to her heart. “You are such a good boy. What a wonderful thing to do for Frankie. I knew you liked her.” Now she wagged a finger at him in that way she had. “I knew it!”
“It’s hard not to like Frankie.” It was difficult not to love her. And he should know. He’d been trying.
“That’s what she said about you. I told her that when she drove me to the hotel. I said, my son likes you. She likes you, too, in case you were wondering.”
“Mother, stop.” What he wouldn’t give for a transportation device so he could zap her back to Boston.
“Stop what?”
“Stop playing matchmaker and thinking what you’re thinking. Frankie and I are just friends.” Not that he was happy about that. He should have been. Her declaration that nothing could happen between them because he wasn’t staying in Butterfly Harbor had come as a shock and a big dose of reality.
Frankie breaking away from him should have been a relief. Instead, he began to miss her the second she’d walked out the door.
Wasn’t that just perfect?
“No man looks at a woman the way you look at Frankie and thinks about friendship,” his mother said. “Well, not only about friendship.”
“When’s your flight home again?”
“January second. I’m here for the holidays.” Ezzie beamed at him even though she knew very well that wasn’t the answer he wanted. “I thought maybe I could start looking for a h
ouse for you, seeing as you aren’t exactly mobile right now.”
“I don’t want my mother picking out my house.” It was bad enough when he was a kid and she’d picked out his clothes. He’d been so popular in plaid and argyle. “I don’t know how long I’m staying.”
“I could just get some ideas, you know, neighborhoods, styles. I’ll start a list. This is the last box, Jasper.”
Jasper returned and Roman pointed to the box on the desk.
“I thought I’d bake some cookies,” Ezzie announced when Jasper left again. “I feel like baking.”
“Mother...” Roman began again, then trailed off. He glanced up at her, eyebrow arched in hope. “White chocolate macadamia?”
“To start,” Ezzie promised, then sighed. “Roman. You taking this job here, it’s a sign. Like I told you from the start. I’m so glad you accepted.”
“Me, too.” Except he wasn’t. Not today. Today he was thinking he might have been better off never having met Frankie Bettencourt.
“All right. That’s enough moping.” Ezzie closed the door. She sat on the edge of his desk and crossed her arms, much in the way she used to when she’d caught him toilet papering the neighbor’s house on Halloween. “What’s going on with you and Frankie?”
“Nothing.”
“Because...?”
Was there any point of evading her questions? “Because she knows I’m not staying in Butterfly Harbor. And she’s right. Getting involved is impractical.”
“Love is always impractical.”
“Love?” Roman scrubbed his hands down his face. How had they jumped from nothing to love? “Mom, come on!”
“It’s there. I can see it. Just the barely burning embers. A mother knows.”
“Even if that were true, which I’m not saying it is.” The very idea of discussing his love life with his mother made him want to sink through the floor. “I told you, I’m not staying.”
“You can’t change your mind?”
He dropped his hands. “It’s not that simple.” Changing his mind would be changing his dreams, and breaking the promise he’d made to his father to grab hold of all of them. “And even if it was, things here are getting complicated.”
The Firefighter's Thanksgiving Wish Page 19
