She shot him a withering look. “Savanna.”
“Right. Sorry.” He was striking out all over the place.
Giving barely a nod, Savanna said, “You’re hired, huh?”
Fletcher wondered if this was the welcome every new employee could expect. He caught the eye roll she sent Hadley’s way.
Savanna picked up an iPad from the reception desk. “There are three tabs open here. Fill out the information correctly and completely. It’s a hassle to fix it later.” Her unfriendly tone suggested it would be a hassle for her, and since she seemed to be some kind of secretary or receptionist or liaison here, he knew it would be a terrible idea to get any further on her bad side.
As she handed him the iPad, she smiled insincerely and said, “Welcome to the team.”
“Right. Thanks.” Hoping to repair a bit of the damage his first impression had caused, he smiled, but both the women already had their backs to him. As he sat on the chair answering security questions and filling out his contact information, Hadley and Savanna knelt a few feet away sorting the items she’d carried in and ignoring him.
Every time Hadley laughed, he fought the urge to cross the room and hug her. After all this time, he still loved her laugh, how it rumbled up from her throat, much lower and deeper than her speaking voice, and the way it combined with that maddening, gorgeous sparkle in her eyes. It had been years since he’d been responsible for making her laugh like that.
Enough, he thought. Employment history. Not romantic history.
Every time she turned to face Savanna, he had a perfect view of Hadley’s profile, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose, that dimple, her perfect teeth.
Stop it, he told himself again. Focus on insurance forms.
When the forms asked for family medical history, he could finally give his full attention to the task at hand. He had little choice.
Has any member of your immediate family been diagnosed with or treated for any of the following? There were too many checked boxes for Fletcher’s comfort, when he factored in his father’s cancer, heart disease, and far-too-early death. And then there was his mom’s kidney disease. Just clicking the boxes made him feel tired.
But this was the reason he was here. His mom had handled her widowhood with grace, continuing her work as an assistant in the same orthodontist’s office where Fletcher had gotten braces. But in the past few months, her health had begun to decline. She was far too young to retire from work, but she confessed to Fletcher that the job was simply too hard on her body.
There had been no wrestling with options. He was needed, so he came home. Hadley, who had always adored his mom, could not possibly have heard that she was ill, or she would have defrosted enough to ask him about her.
It didn’t surprise Fletcher that his mom had kept her failing health a secret. Greensburg was small enough, insular enough that people watched out for each other, and Rose Gates had spent all her life delivering meals, offering service, and organizing assistance for other people. She was unlikely to welcome any such help for herself.
Fletcher clicked the last “accept” button on the last form and got up from his chair. At the same time, both Hadley and Savanna stood and brushed off the dust and lint from their pants.
“I’m through with this,” he said, handing the iPad back to Savanna. “Anything I can help you with?” He gestured to the piles of toys, refolded blankets, and stacks of books. Hadley didn’t even glance his way.
“Soon enough, eager fireman.” Savanna smirked at him. “For now, you can get yourself acquainted with the station.” She didn’t offer anything further, so Fletcher nodded and walked through the door to the apparatus bay.
As much as the updates and renovations had created more space and new amenities, it still felt like the same fire station he’d known all his life.
The soaring ceilings of the engine bays may have seemed taller when he was a kid, but the majesty and power of the trucks capable of carrying a dozen men to an emergency and restoring order and safety? That was exactly as he remembered it.
His experiences with BLM, though fascinating and significant, had lacked some of the magic of his childhood adoration and admiration for the machinery, the systems, and the trappings of the city fire station. Walking through the door, he saw that one of the engines was pulled out and the men were washing it, squirting each other with jets of water, shouting and laughing. It made him remember some of what he’d witnessed as his dad had taken part in days like this.
Now the job, the experience, the opportunity, were his.
Fletcher walked onto the blacktop, and someone saw him and hollered. “Gates? That you?”
Fletcher raised his arm in a wave and Wayne Redman, who had worked at the station for years, jogged over. “Red” had been a trainee of his dad’s, and something of an uncle figure to Fletcher.
Red wrapped him in a hug and slapped his back so hard he practically winded him. Fletcher laughed.
“Chief told us that unless you walked in and spit on his desk, he’d be offering you a place on the crew today. Man, it’s good to have you here.”
Red, unusually tender for a seasoned firefighter, placed both hands on Fletcher’s shoulders and gazed at him, possibly looking for a reminder of Paul Gates’s face in his son. Whether he found it or not, he pulled Fletcher to him in another crushing hug and called over the other men.
“Guys, some of you knew Paul Gates. This is his boy, Fletcher.” Heads nodded, and a few of the men came over to shake his hand.
A firefighter probably Fletcher’s age smiled and held out his hand. “Nick Baxter,” he said by way of introduction. He looked like a solid guy, confident and capable.
“Hi,” Fletcher said, grateful that there were guys on the team his age. He wouldn’t be required to prove that he was an adult every minute of every day if they were already used to younger crew members.
“I hear you’ve been…” Nick began, but the opening of a door distracted him, and he dropped Fletcher’s hand. In a matter of seconds, his confident and capable look fled, and his eyes seemed to go unfocused. What Fletcher could only describe as a dorky grin spread over Nick’s face, and Fletcher looked to see what had sidetracked Nick.
Hadley, followed by the angry Savanna woman, came through the door, waved to the crew, and told them she’d brought her first box of donations for something called “Greensburg Cares for Kids.”
“I’m sure there’s lots more coming,” Hadley said. “Get ready.”
Nick murmured under his breath, “Ready and waiting.” He turned to Fletcher and continued to whisper. “That’s Savanna Deveraux. And that’s Hadley Booth.” Looking from one of them to the other, Nick said, “I swear, that woman could ask me for anything, and I’d make it happen.”
If it was odd to have a stranger telling him who Hadley was, that was nothing to the weirdness of instantly knowing, without a doubt, that Nick was crazy about her. Not that he could blame him.
This can’t end well, Fletcher thought.
Chapter 2
Hadley slipped into the side entrance of the fire station and leaned her back against the closed door, blocking out the images of Fletcher Gates in all his stupid, handsome masculinity. She felt a toddler-style fit coming on, complete with pounding fists and stamping feet. How dare he? How dare he wander back into town, back into her safe place with his chiseled jawline and his huge hands that practically covered her whole back when he helped pick her up off the floor?
And, she thought, how dare he assume she needed his help? Did he think she never got up off a floor without him?
How dare he find a job—as a fireman, for the love of all that is holy—in her town?
How dare he look so good?
How dare he smell so good?
How dare he wrap his hands around her arms as if he’d never let go all those years ago?
Hadley knew that when the childishness of her fit passed, she’d realize that she was actually angry at herself: for being clumsy,
for letting her body respond to Fletcher’s touch, for holding his gaze a second too long.
Walking toward the reception area, she kicked a rock that had found its way inside and made a grunting sound; she felt a bit better.
Savanna stared at her, a sarcastic smile playing on her lips. “You done?” she asked.
Hadley stood up straight. “Done with what?”
Savanna’s waving gesture took in everything in Hadley’s general direction. “With whatever that was?”
She shook her head and wished she could kick the rock again. “Now I’m done.” She shook out her shoulders. “You could have warned me, you know.” Hadley crossed the room and perched on the edge of Savanna’s desk. “You had to know the names of the prospective hires. How many men named Fletcher Gates could have applied for this job? It’s not that common a name.”
“I know. But warning you would have been no fun at all.” Savanna picked up two pieces of paper and knocked them against her desk to line them up, then slid them into the recycle bin.
Hadley wanted a fight. Or at least an apology. “You knew he had an interview, and you didn’t even give me a hint?”
Savanna shook her head. “Be reasonable, Hadley. What would I have said?” She put on a syrupy-sweet voice. “Remember that boy you used to date? He has an interview at the station this afternoon, and unless he throws trash on the chief’s desk and tells the guy his kids are ugly, he’s going to be hired. So, either get over here or stay away?” She shook her head and resumed her normal voice. “I don’t think so. Much better to see you react naturally.”
Hadley snorted. “Naturally. Right.” She replayed the whole scene in her head. Crashing into the door, falling on the sidewalk, dumping every piece of her carefully organized donation.
It was all his fault.
As it always had been.
She shook her head. Not worth thinking about.
“So, how much have you gotten in donations?” Hadley asked. Savanna was heading up a charity drive for the town, collecting items for the firemen to take to kids who lose their homes to fire. Every kid got a stuffed animal, a snuggly blanket, and a book. Savanna organized the collection through local businesses, church drives, and good old-fashioned online community shaming.
She pulled up a document on her computer. “The Green Street Methodists are in the lead. They started strong. When we get your new numbers in there, I’m sure you’ll come up close to the top.”
“And what do I get when I win?” Hadley asked.
“When you win? You mean, when you beat out all the other generous souls in town to become the largest contributor to Greensburg Cares for Kids? When you scratch and claw your way to the top of the list of philanthropists in the competition? Is that what you mean?”
Hadley smirked. “You make my healthy sense of competition sound so tasteless.”
“Nah,” Savanna said. “Tasteless is your prize: A date with one of Greensburg’s finest.”
Without missing a beat, Hadley asked, “Do I get to pick him?”
“I think the choice would be pretty easy,” Savanna said, rolling her eyes. “For you, anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hadley could feel her cheeks flaming at Savanna’s veiled banter. Could Savanna see how Hadley’s reaction to Fletcher’s appearance, his closeness, his touch, had thrown her? She thought she had hidden it better than that. If Savanna could see it, could Fletcher? Was he even looking?
Savanna ignored the ringing phone and clicked her computer keyboard. “It’s supposed to mean nothing. Not a thing. Just that you seem to like the alpha-male type, and your options around here are young alpha, middle-aged alpha, and old alpha, any of whom would love to show you the town. Easy choice.”
“Yeah, okay.” Hadley didn’t want to explore any more specifics with Savanna. If ever there was a person whose personality was at odds with her job, Savanna Deveraux was it—a woman who had no patience for stereotypical manly-men. Hadley wondered for the hundredth time why Savanna kept working for the fire station when she lived in a constant state of annoyance at the clouds of testosterone surrounding her.
“All right,” Hadley said. “I’m heading back to work. We going to the gym tonight?” On Wednesday evenings Hadley and Savanna met for a group power workout class at the fitness center by the hospital.
“I’ll be there,” Savanna said. “See you.”
When Hadley walked out of the station, she avoided walking past the open truck bay so she wouldn’t accidentally run into (or get knocked over by) Fletcher again. Once in her car, though, she drove away with one eye on the rearview mirror. Only to check for cars pulling out into traffic, of course. Not to catch another glimpse of the man who had once been the boy she loved.
“Loved,” Hadley said aloud, “is an overstatement, anyway.” For the purposes of talking out loud, Hadley loved driving alone, whether across town or for hours at a time. She rarely turned on music. The car was where she got to work through her best ideas. The shower was good, too, but talking to herself in the car helped Hadley see things clearly.
Things like the return of Fletcher Harris Gates.
“It’s not like he came back to town just so he could run into me,” she reasoned. Nobody was going to argue with that, particularly because no one else was in the car. “And as long as Savanna isn’t trying to play matchmaker, she can let me know when he’s off shift or out on a call. I can visit her at the station on days he isn’t there. Easy.” Nodding, she caught her reflection in the rearview mirror.
“You,” she said, shaking her head at herself, “are a crazy person.”
She managed to swallow her response, because it would only have proven something she was uninterested in proving.
After a quiet afternoon at work in the bookstore, Hadley was ready for a sweaty workout. Elias, the adorable Swedish trainer at the gym, had never let her down yet. He led a room full of women in a combination of dance moves, weights, and calisthenics; somehow, he made every one of the women feel like he was her personal trainer.
He was equal parts coach and cheerleader, calling out to them during class by name, praising them or prodding them as they needed. His compression tights showed off slender dancer’s legs with every muscle defined, but it wasn’t his legs that drew the women’s attention. It was his hair. His perfect, shoulder-length, blonde ringlets. It wasn’t masculine. It wasn’t sexy. It was simply and inexplicably fascinating. How did it happen? And how did it stay so perfect through the workouts?
“Seriously,” Hadley said, “it’s like he’s a cross between Goldilocks and a contestant on So You Think You Can Dance. It’s hard to look away.”
At the end of the class, Hadley and Savanna toweled off their arms and necks as they waited in line to talk to Elias. Savanna never missed an opportunity to chat with Elias, leading Hadley to ask her if she was interested.
“In him?” Savanna sounded not only shocked but a little offended at the suggestion.
“Well,” Hadley said, “he’s kind of the opposite of the sexy fireman type, right?”
“Oh, he’s definitely not the sexy anything type. But I’m even less interested in the type of sexy you find in the Greensburg station. The only truly sexy firemen types are from that Australian firemen-and-pets calendar.”
Hadley had to admit that the Australian firemen-and-pets calendar was a force to behold. But she wouldn’t accept that the guys at the local station were all bad. “Come on. Nick Baxter?”
Savanna made an immediate sound of disbelief. “Baxter? What kind of guy do you think I’m into?”
Hadley shook her head. “Honestly, Sav, I have no idea.”
Savanna lowered her voice and leaned closer. “If Baxter and Elias were my only options, I’d have to die alone. Just because I’m not a damsel in distress waiting for a big strong fireman to save me from danger,” she said, disdain dripping from every word, “doesn’t mean I automatically find the willowy Scandinavian the next best option.”
“But the willowy Scandinavian is his own kind of beautiful, you have to admit. And his hair is prettier than any of ours after a workout like that.”
Savanna laughed. “For sure. How do you think he keeps those curls so perfect? It’s like the hair grew out of his head that way.”
Hadley made a disgusted face. “Natural beauty is the worst. If his hair is natural, I hate him.”
“Same.”
“Ladies,” Elias said, granting them the privilege of his full attention after the crowd thinned. “How do you feel?”
“Curious,” Hadley said. She felt Savanna’s elbow in her ribs, but she carried on. “Is that your real hair? Because it’s so good I almost don’t believe in it.”
Elias laughed. “I meant about the workout, but okay,” he said, and leaned over, ear first, toward her. “Go on and give it a tug. It’s the real thing.”
“Do not touch his hair,” Savanna warned. There was a threat in her tone. One half-second later, shaking her head, she lamented, “And you’re touching it. Seriously.” Turning her attention to the trainer, she said, “Great class today, Elias.”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” he said casually, as though having his head stroked was a daily occurrence. Maybe it was.
In a voice that was half-amused, half-annoyed, Savanna said, “Okay, Hadley. It’s time to stop petting the teacher.”
“Okay, just one second more,” Hadley said, twisting a perfect, shoulder-length curl around her finger.
Elias stood still, smiling at the women as Hadley petted him and Savanna looked like she might sprain her eyeballs from rolling them so hard. A few unsubtle head-nods in the direction of “leaving” did not remove Hadley’s hand from Elias’s head.
Savanna resorted to further directness.
“Sorry, but I think we really have to go right now.” Savanna pulled Hadley toward the locker room.
Hadley waved, but Elias was already deep in a conversation with someone else.
“It’s real,” Hadley said.
“Yes, I think we’ve established that,” Savanna said, pushing Hadley through the locker room door. “And you are nuts. It’s not like you’ve never felt curls before.” Savanna pointed to Hadley’s head. “Exhibit A. You have curls. All the curls.”
Always You: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection Books 5-8) Page 19
