What a Girl Wants

by Jennifer Snow

  The phone chimed with a text message and he reached for it.

  But Jim got to it first. “We need to talk?” he read aloud.

  Ethan sighed. “That’s all she ever says.” Above everything else was a nagging curiosity about what she obviously needed to say to him. He wondered how long he could remain strong and continue to ignore her. Admittedly, his resolve was weakening. Angry or not, he missed the life they had created together. He had liked knowing where he was headed—his job was solid, one he enjoyed and did well, and his relationship had been comfortable, secure.... Maybe that had been the problem. Emily thrived on new and exciting, changing jobs every few months. He wondered how long the new Play Hard opportunity would keep her happy.

  “Do you think she wants to come back?”

  Ethan denied himself that hope. “I don’t know.”

  “Would you take her back if she did?”

  The million-dollar question. He hesitated before saying, “I’m not an idiot, Jim.”

  “You’re not answering the question.”

  Ethan snatched the phone away before Jim could answer the text, which he knew he was aching to do, and slid it into his shirt pocket. He pulled the truck to the side of the highway behind an old rusted red Volkswagen Jetta and jumped down onto the gravel. He positioned two traffic cones in the inside lane, forcing the oncoming traffic to take the outside lane, as Bailey’s tow truck pulled in front of the Jetta and she climbed out, clipboard in hand.

  “I’ll be here if you need me,” Jim called from inside the truck, reclining the seat and shutting his eyes.

  “You’re not even going to get out of the truck?”

  “It’s a simple backup call. I only came along to get out of clinic duty.”

  Ethan shook his head as he closed the truck door. It amazed him how their work ethic differed so drastically. Jim was four years older, yet he’d never shown any interest in advancing his rank at the fire hall. Ethan had worked hard, proving himself to his senior coworkers and landing the position of captain by the time he was twenty-four.

  He approached Bailey at the front of the vehicle where she was speaking to a short, frazzled-looking bald man. “I’ll just need your driver’s license and your credit card...and I’ll have you hooked up and ready to go in just a few minutes. Feel free to sit in the truck to wait. The air-conditioning is on and it’s much cooler in there.”

  The man disappeared inside the cab of the tow truck and Ethan waited until he was out of earshot before saying, “This car has to be at least thirty years old.” He leaned against the bumper to watch her work, and the metal frame creaked in protest.

  “That thing looks about to fall off,” she warned as she put the tow dolly’s coupler in open position by lowering the locking lever all the way down and inserting the locking pin to secure it in place.

  Good point, he thought as he stood. “So, before I forget, we’re holding Luke’s bachelor party at the fire hall tonight—poker, darts, beer, the baseball game.... If you’re not doing anything, stop by.” Bailey was a regular at their weekly poker games, much to the dismay of the other guys, whose wallets she emptied.

  “Stop by? To Luke’s bachelor party—the ultimate boys night?” She sounded incredulous as she inserted the electrical plug from the dolly into the switch on the back of the tow truck. That way the brake lights and turning signals on the dolly would work while en route to the shop.

  “Yeah, why not?” He knew Luke wouldn’t mind. Bailey had always been like a third, less-annoying sister to the groom-to-be, and she kept his ancient, rusted-out truck on the road.

  “I have Victoria’s bachelorette party tonight. A wine and cheese in the backyard of the Brookhollow Inn.” She crisscrossed the chains and connected them to the eyelets on the bumper of the car.

  “That sounds awful.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  A loud boom sounded and they both swung around to see smoke and flames coming from the hood of the Jetta.

  Great, the piece of crap car was on fire.

  Quickly, he pushed Bailey toward the guardrail on the side of the highway and said, “Stay right here!” Then, running to the truck, he rapped on the passenger door to get Jim’s attention before grabbing a jump line of two lengths of forty-four-inch hose and a nozzle.

  “What happened?” Jim asked, joining him.

  “That car should never have passed its last road-safety inspection,” he muttered as he grabbed his coat and self-contained breathing apparatus from inside the fire truck. Nothing annoyed him more than accidents that could have been prevented. This car was long past retirement and posed a safety threat.

  He secured the mask in place before advancing toward the car, spraying the flames that had spread around the base of the vehicle. The last thing he wanted was for the flames to spread to the tow truck. Bailey had just purchased the wheel-lift truck the month before after buying the garage from her uncle. She loved that four-wheel drive almost as much as she loved her motorcycle. It would serve as her primary vehicle in the winter months.

  Jim grabbed the Halligan bar to gain access to the fire under the hood. Hurrying, he pierced a hole in the hood and used the tool to pry it open. Moving closer, Ethan sprayed a stream of water, extinguishing the flames.

  After a thorough walkabout and once satisfied that the fire was completely out, he put the tools away and approached Bailey while Jim filled out the report inside the truck. “You okay?” He rubbed her shoulders, noticing the goose bumps on her forearms, despite the heat waves radiating from the highway.

  “Yeah... That was just so sudden.”

  The car’s owner had jumped out of the tow truck and run some twenty-five yards away while his vehicle was consumed by flames. He joined them now, shaking slightly.

  “My car,” he said, wide-eyed as he stared at the charred mess.

  “It only takes a small spark to ignite into major flames,” Ethan told him, then turned once more to Bailey. “I think you should unhook the car. That thing is a hazard. You don’t want it in your shop.” Who knew what else was wrong with that wreck? In his professional opinion, it was a chance too risky to take...not to mention his personal concern as her friend.

  “What? You won’t tow it?” The man looked frantic at the thought of being stranded on the side of the highway any longer.

  “I seriously doubt there’s a whole lot Bailey can—” Ethan started, but Bailey interrupted.

  “Of course I will.”

  Ethan shot her an annoyed look and lowered his voice. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea, Bailey.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Ethan, but it’s not your decision to make. We both know Uncle Doug would never leave this car stranded.”

  She was right, and while he wanted to argue, he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. Bailey had been on her own since she was seventeen. She’d lost her mom to cancer at twelve, and she’d been desperate to escape her family home where her father and two overprotective brothers had driven her crazy. Listening to the advice of others was not her strong point. She insisted on doing things her way. That stubborn independence was one of the things he liked about his friend, unless he was going up against it.

  “Fine, it’s your shop.” He shrugged, but he couldn’t resist taking a jab at her. “Oh...and be sure to have fun tonight,” he said with a smirk as he hopped back into the fire truck.

  * * *

  ARRIVING BACK AT the shop fifteen minutes later, after dropping the frazzled Mr. Huntley at the Brookhollow Inn for the evening, Bailey wasn’t surprised to find the door locked and no one around. Nick wouldn’t be there unless he had to be. She let herself in and picked up the mail on the floor. Flicking through the envelopes, she was happy to see payments for work completed last month.

  Her uncle had run the shop on an invoicing system for the to
wn locals. Only out-of-towners were required to pay at the time of delivery and even then he accepted personal checks. When she’d taken over the bookkeeping and accounting side of the business several months before, there had been many outstanding, unpaid invoices. In a few short weeks, she’d collected on almost all of them and the shop’s finances were in much better shape. Unfortunately the surplus in revenue had been one of the reasons her uncle had been able to talk her into giving Nick the job as her apprentice that summer.

  She pushed through the swinging door that led to the bays where two vehicles awaited paint jobs. Might as well get them ready for pickup and parked outside before bringing in the Jetta. Though she wasn’t sure what she could do to fix the old car. She’d try her best, but she suspected it was headed for the junkyard in town.

  Sighing, she tied her hair back into a ponytail at the base of her neck, tucking the strands beneath her collar. Detail work was her least favorite job. She’d rather be under the body or peering under a hood any day.

  Approaching the workbench where all the paint supplies and air-brush color cans were, she noticed several detail brushes in containers of warm, soapy water and six or seven spray cans in the trash under the desk. Had Doug come by and completed the work himself? Since retiring, he sometimes came by to tinker with a vehicle or two. Bailey suspected he was going crazy at home with nothing to do. However, she couldn’t remember the last time the older man had taken on any paintwork, claiming his less-than-rock-steady hands and less-than-perfect eyesight couldn’t be trusted anymore.

  Bailey flicked the light switch on the wall to see the vehicles more clearly. Checking the work order, she approached the first one. A Toyota Corolla brought in a few days ago by Mrs. Norris. There had been body damage to the left side of her front bumper after she’d hit a newly placed concrete divider in the grocery store parking lot. Inspecting the bumper, she was shocked to see the expert paint job. Doug could claim he wasn’t as good as he used to be, but his work rivaled hers any day. The second vehicle, a Ford Focus that belonged to Dr. Carson, the local pediatrician, was done with the same precision and care. Bailey felt herself relax. One less thing to worry about.

  * * *

  ETHAN STRAINED UNDER the weight of the three cases of beer he balanced on his forearms as he continued to wait in the long line at the liquor depot. The beer-can-shaped clock hanging above the register revealed it was six-thirty. The men would be arriving at the station in less than an hour. The blood pressure and cholesterol screening had gone on past five o’clock, putting them a little behind in their bachelor-party preparations. Each month there seemed to be even more women in Brookhollow coming to the free clinic, and today he’d even caught a few getting in line for a second time in one day.

  He loved his involvement with the local fire hall and its contributions to the town. His father was the head of the police department in Brookhollow, and his older brother, Jim, and he had inherited their dad’s sense of pride and responsibility for the community. As kids they’d spent a lot of time at the police station and the fire hall, learning about the trucks and the duties of the fire chief and crew. As soon as they were old enough, they’d signed on to become firefighters.

  The line moved, creating an empty space on the conveyor belt, just as his grip slipped from the side of his load. That was close. As he set the beer down and rubbed his aching forearms, his eye was caught fleetingly by a blonde disappearing at the far end of the store’s middle aisle. Emily? His mind raced, but his feet remained frozen to the floor as he leaned around the end of the register to try to catch another glimpse. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. She’d just called a few hours ago from Miami. Just pay for the beer....

  “Just a second,” he told the clerk as he moved past the other customers waiting in line behind him. “Go ahead and take the next person.” Quickly he made his way toward the center aisle. “Emily?”

  The woman turned immediately and smiled when she saw him. “Ethan, hi. How are you?” Emily’s younger sister Kimberly rushed forward to hug him.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before wrapping one arm around her in a brief hug. The sisters wore the same perfume.

  “Hi, Kim. Sorry, I thought you were...”

  “Emily. I know. I’ve been getting that a lot since I highlighted my hair.” She tossed the wavy golden locks over her shoulder. “Sorry,” she said with a sympathetic smile.

  Ethan flinched, hating that look. It had been the only way anyone had looked at him for months after Emily had left, and he’d felt uneasy to be on the receiving end of sympathetic smiles and gossipy whispers.

  “No, don’t apologize. I should have known anyway—Emily always wore her hair straight....” He coughed. Not doing a great job recovering here, man. Get a grip. “Anyway, how is she?” He closed his eyes and shook his head. He was hopeless. “I mean you. How are you?”

  Kimberly gave him a knowing look. “She’s good...I think,” she said with a shrug as she reached for two bottles of merlot from the shelf. “I mean, she hardly calls, but she texts me every few days.... She was just offered a promotion to the senior management team—corporate trainer, I think.” She paused, her expression sheepish. “I’m sorry if all of this is hard to hear.”

  “No,” Ethan lied. Of course he was happy that she was doing well, wasn’t he? “I’m glad she’s doing okay. How’s everyone else?”

  “My parents just got back from a Caribbean cruise and I’ve been accepted to the media-design program at NYU for the fall semester.”

  “Wow, Kim, that’s great.” He really meant it.

  “Thank you. You know, that invite to dinner always stands. With or without Emily, you’ll always be part of the family.”

  Ethan shuffled his feet, avoiding the sympathy in her ocean-blue eyes—Emily’s eyes. Just one of the features the sisters shared.

  “Tell your folks I said hello....” He wasn’t ready to commit to anything with the family just yet. And though he suspected Kim might be genuine in the offer, he wasn’t sure Mayor and Mrs. Parsons would be as comfortable seeing him. Part of him believed they held him responsible for the relationship breakdown. Who knows, maybe they were right. His unwavering commitment to life in Brookhollow hadn’t made Emily happy. “And maybe think about changing that hair color, huh?” he teased.

  “I promise to think about it,” she said, struggling to grab another bottle of wine from the rack.

  “Here, let me help,” he offered, picking up the extra bottle. “Having a celebration tonight?”

  “Victoria’s bachelorette party at the B and B. Actually, it’s a bridal shower, but they’re calling it a bachelorette party to make it sound more fun.” Kimberly followed him to the counter.

  “Well, then, allow me.” He waved Jim’s credit card in the air. “Consider it a gift from the best man,” he said as he took the wine from her and added it to his own items on the counter.

  CHAPTER TWO

  JIM PROPPED OPEN the west entrance door of the fire hall with a brick as they carried the cases of beer into the fire hall later that evening. He plucked the receipt from the top case and shot his brother a questioning look. “What’s this wine on the bill?”

  “I ran into Kim Parsons at the liquor depot. She was picking up wine for Victoria’s bachelorette party. I took care of it.... Rather, you took care of it.”

  Ethan shut the back door of the Jeep. His brother, Jim, had been friends with Luke Dawson since grade school and he knew, despite his grumbling, Jim had been honored when Luke asked him to be his best man.

  “Last time I send you to get the booze,” Jim huffed as Luke’s truck pulled into the driveway of the fire hall. The old clunker rattled and gurgled as Luke cut the engine and a dark puff of exhaust escaped the tailpipe.

  Ethan watched in amusement. “What happened to his new truck?” Own
er of a successful architecture firm that had contracts in New Jersey, New York and Boston, Luke had bought a new Ford F-250 just before Christmas, but whenever Ethan saw him, he was driving that old beater.

  “Victoria is using it. As long as Bailey keeps reviving that thing, he’ll keep driving it,” he said, nodding toward the truck where Luke was trapped inside, struggling with the door handle.

  “Must be love,” Ethan said. “So explain to me why Luke and Victoria are holding their prewedding parties so early. The wedding isn’t for another month.” His brother’s longtime best friend had gotten engaged for the second time to his childhood sweetheart on New Year’s Eve and the wedding was scheduled for the Labor Day weekend.

  “Luke’s out of town a lot working on that restaurant in Boston for the next few weeks. His crews are under a tight deadline for a grand opening the first weekend in September. This was really the only time we could do it, and holding it at the fire hall made sense because I somehow got stuck on night rotation this weekend.” He turned as Luke entered, a case of beer under his left arm. “Hey, man. You weren’t supposed to bring your own drinks,” Jim said, taking the beer from him and putting the bottles in the cooler filled with ice near the poker table.

  “My mother says you shouldn’t go anywhere empty-handed. Hey, great setup.” Luke scanned the transformed fire hall. A poker table stood ready to go, stacks of multi-colored chips at each place. A dartboard hung on the wall and the scoreboard had each of their names already written in white chalk. The old tan leather sofa and matching recliner had been moved to the side of the room and a small flat screen was set up on the coffee table. The first inning of the baseball game lit up the screen.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to run out to get the pizza and wings before my shift starts,” Jim said, grabbing his truck keys from the hook on the wall near the door.