What a Girl Wants

by Jennifer Snow

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY at the shop, Bailey sorted through the service area, collecting salvageable parts and supplies in a box. The cleanup crew had done a remarkable job removing the rubble, and the interior wall rebuild had begun.

  “Hello,” she heard a familiar male voice say from the front of the shop.

  Setting the box aside and wiping her hands on the legs of her coveralls, she headed toward the front. Dwayne Adams, Mark’s brother, stood near the remaining counter, studying the damage inside. “Hi, Dwayne.”

  “Wow, I can’t believe this place....” He shook his head.

  “Tell me about it. I watched it burn down and I still can’t believe it.”

  “You know what people around town are saying, don’t you?”

  Bailey sighed. “Which version did you hear? That I purposely set it on fire when I came back here to lock up? Or that the Jetta was a setup? Or that I paid Nick to do it, knowing his inexperience would make it look more accidental?”

  Dwayne laughed. “Sorry, it’s not funny what people are coming up with, it’s just hilarious that anyone could actually believe it.” He stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. “Anyway, talk will die down. Have you heard from the insurance adjuster yet?” he asked, bending to pick up several bottles of gear oil and put them on the exposed window ledge.

  “Not yet...soon.”

  “Great because I’m going to need you back up and running...and fast,” he said, gesturing outside. “She is going to need work.”

  Bailey shielded her eyes from the glare of the sunlight as she glanced toward the parking lot. A cherry-red and lime-green stock car sat parked on the gravel. “You’re racing?”

  “Yeah. Always wanted to try, so I thought why not? It’s late in the season, but a guy in Newark was selling her for next to nothing, so I couldn’t resist.” He shrugged, leading the way outside.

  “She’s beautiful,” Bailey said, touching the car.

  “That she is. I just put a new engine in....”

  “What kind?” She was genuinely curious and a little annoyed that he hadn’t brought it to her to install. Specialty, souped-up engines were something she didn’t get to work on often.

  “A Chevy 396 Stage 3 Race Engine.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Thanks. I’m hoping to win the modifier challenge tonight in Bridgeport. And that’s why I’m here.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. If I have any chance of winning, I need you on my pit crew.”

  * * *

  LATER THAT EVENING, Bailey climbed the concrete stairs in the covered grandstand of the dirt racetrack to get a better view of the course. If she was going to help Dwayne, she needed to know the conditions of the track—which areas to avoid and which turns were the most challenging. The layout had changed a lot since the last time she’d attended with her dad and brothers years before. The five-eighths mile, high-banked, dirt oval track was bordered by sponsor signage, and the two-tiered guardrail along the outside had been upgraded for the safety of the viewers as well as the drivers. The roomy corners, wide enough to take three or four cars, were also reinforced with concrete walls for additional safety. The premier division cars, the modifiers, often raced at speeds of up to a hundred miles per hour.

  Bailey turned as Dwayne and his brother, Mark, approached. Dressed in racing coveralls plastered with sponsorship logos, Dwayne looked like a professional racer already.

  “Hey, Bailey. Thanks for coming,” he greeted, taking a seat on the other side of her.

  “Great thinking, man,” Mark said, “bringing the best mechanic we know. I doubt anyone on the pit crew can throw on a new tire faster than Bailey.”

  “It took very little convincing,” Bailey said.

  “Come on.” Dwayne waved a hand to motion them up. “Let’s go take a final look at her before the races start.”

  Bailey followed them to the pit where the colorful Chevy Impala, covered in logos from Joey’s Diner to Play Hard Sports, was awaiting inspection from the race officials. Hood up, it displayed the souped-up engine proudly.

  Bailey approached and gingerly touched the frame of the refabricated vehicle. “Looks great.” She bent beneath the hood to examine the engine. “This thing is going to fly down the track.”

  “It better.” Dwayne laughed. “I’m going to need to win an awful lot of races to pay for it.”

  “Well, I’ve sized up the track and the only thing I’d recommend is watching your back right tire along the third corner if you’re driving on the inside—it’s sharper than the rest,” she cautioned.

  “Great, thanks. I appreciate the advice.”

  “I’m going to go grab a bottle of water. Want anything?” she asked as she exited the pit.

  “Nah, I’m too nervous.”

  Rounding the corner near the concession stand, she saw Ethan walking toward her.

  “Dwayne put you to work?” he asked.

  What was he doing here? “May as well be doing something. With the garage shut down, I’m not sure what to do with myself,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm under his intense gaze as his eyes traveled the length of her body. Suddenly her shorts seemed a little too short and her tank top a little too tight.

  He moved closer to her and, lowering his voice, said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about that kiss....”

  Good. That was the point. “Look, Ethan...you were right. You and I would be a terrible idea.” Call my bluff, please.

  “But, I...”

  Swallowing hard, she had to call on all her strength to push on. “No buts. You’re still hung up on Emily and I’m not prepared to get involved with that.” The lie rolled much more easily off her tongue than she’d expected. She was so ready to get involved with repairing the damage to his heart...but first she had to know he wanted her to.

  He raised his chin. “Actually, Bailey, this is the first day since she left that I haven’t thought about Emily—until now.”

  Pushing up on her tiptoes, she fought to calm her quickened pulse as she let her hands graze his muscular arms, arms she longed to be in. She kissed his cheek with the quickest of pecks and said, “Yeah? Well, let me know when you don’t think about her all day and you don’t realize you haven’t.”

  * * *

  “I STILL CAN’T believe they put her to work,” Jim said from his seat next to Ethan in the stands.

  Bailey was in the pit crew several yards away, a new tire at her feet as she unscrewed the back right one on Dwayne’s car.

  “She’s the only reason Dwayne has a shot at winning this race.” Already Bailey had changed the left tire and had fiddled under the hood of the old stock car.

  “Look how fast she got that new tire on the rim,” Jim said, glancing at his watch. “What was that? Thirty seconds?”

  “Not even.” A small smile played on Ethan’s lips as he watched her stand and wipe her dirty hands across her forehead, leaving a streak of dirt. She could be covered in dirt and still be beautiful, he realized, and the thought unnerved him. Could there be more between them than friendship? The kiss had certainly held passion...but love? He wasn’t sure if he could or would take a chance on that again...at least not for a very long time.

  Jim turned to Jill. “Why can’t you change a tire that quick?”

  Jill glanced up from her iPhone, where she was reading a fitness article, obviously unimpressed with the races. “I think the correct wording is at all. I don’t need to know how. That’s what I have you for.” She raised an eyebrow. “I could learn, but that would make you obsolete.”

  Jim wrapped an arm around her. “Oh, come on. I must be good for a few other things....”

  Jill pretended to think. “Well, I guess you are handy when it comes to opening jars or reaching things on high shelves.”


  “So squeeze bottles and a step stool could eliminate the need for you,” Ethan chimed in, happy that the teasing was turned on his brother for a change.

  “Remember you said that,” Jim told Jill grumpily.

  She placed a kiss on his unshaven cheek, snuggling closer to him as the race started again.

  Ethan watched the playful interaction. He wanted that. The bond his brother shared with his girlfriend, the understanding they had with one another and the commitment they shared. At one time, he’d had that with Emily. Would he ever find it again? His gaze locked on Bailey, and unable to resist, he reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone. Impressive, baby girl, he texted.

  He watched as Bailey retrieved her phone from her tight jean shorts’ pocket and read. Turning in the pit, she met his eyes, her face lighting up in a wide smile as she shrugged and waved.

  Oh, man, she’s perfect, Ethan realized. Things just got more complicated.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE you actually agreed to participate in this event,” Bailey’s aunt Jeanette said as she scanned the list of challenges in the local Fire Fit Challenge competition on Sunday afternoon.

  Brookhollow was home to one of the best fire training academies in the U.S., with an emergency training center for hands-on practical instruction as well as teambuilding skills. The focal point of the center was the seven-story fire tower, a big reinforced concrete structure with mock windows and doors, an elevator prop on a fixed platform and a six-story rescue wall with multiple anchor points.

  This year the fire department had decided to hold their annual fund-raiser at the training center, giving the community members a more intimate look at the challenges firefighters faced on a daily basis by holding a competition for civilians. Each firefighter had teamed up with a willing community member to compete the timed obstacle course. Earlier that summer, Bailey had agreed to compete with Ethan, and despite the game of cat and mouse they appeared to be playing lately, she was determined to see the challenge through.

  She stretched her legs on the red-and-white checked blanket in the shade of an oak tree and pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, checking her arms and legs for any sign of a sunburn. She reached for the sunblock in her backpack. The blazing August rays shining through the thin cloud cover couldn’t be trusted.

  “Yeah, well, the money it raises each year for the fire hall is certainly needed. Besides, I think it will be a lot of fun.”

  “I heard the guys had a hard time recruiting civilian volunteers,” her uncle Doug said, opening one eye. He’d fallen asleep the moment they’d arrived and his forehead showed a distinct white band where his arm had rested over his now-red face. “Bailey’s braver than most, especially after witnessing that fire at the garage last week.”

  “Actually, Uncle Doug, after seeing the guys in action that night and the potential danger they faced, I’m even more determined to get through this course. They were amazing.” She glanced across the field to where Ethan stood near a parked fire truck, lifting young children inside to take a closer look. Among so many other qualities, she admired his love of children. She knew he enjoyed spending time with his nephews and coaching the local sports teams. He’d make a wonderful father someday.

  “Any word from the insurance adjuster?” Doug asked.

  “No.” It had been less than a week since she’d submitted the claim, and the insurance adjuster had said it could take a while. She tried not to worry about it, but she was desperate to receive an answer soon.

  “Well, I admire you for going ahead with the rebuild,” her aunt said. “We drove past the shop on the way here today and it looks so much better already.”

  Bailey nodded. The cleanup crew had done an amazing job in no time at all, and Luke’s construction crews had been working nonstop, rebuilding the external structure of the garage. The main exterior walls were up, and two of the three bay doors had been operable when she’d checked on the progress herself that morning. The sprinkler installer was scheduled for the following day, though she still worried about that additional cost. “It’s going to look great. Luke’s crews are fantastic.”

  “Do you want to tell her or will I?” Jeanette nudged Doug.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “Tell me what?”

  “We’re paying for the sprinkler installation.”

  “What? No, I can’t let you two do that.” It was a nice gesture, but her uncle had sold her the garage last month. He was free and clear of any responsibility. This was her concern now.

  “It’s not open for debate,” her uncle said. “In fact, it’s already paid for. We spoke to Automatic Sprinklers this morning.”

  “But...”

  “Bailey, I should never have sold you that place not up to code. Consider it part of the purchase price.”

  There was no point arguing, so she accepted the gift of peace of mind with a hug. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  ETHAN STOOD IN the center of the kiddie water park they’d set up on the training grounds for the family events, enjoying the cool, refreshing spray in the humid heat. His firefighter gear lay on the ground a few feet away and he cringed at the idea of putting it on. In the distance he saw Bailey sitting with her family under the shade of a big oak tree.

  He was going out of his mind thinking about her. And it made no sense at all. They’d been friends since grade school, growing up in Brookhollow together. They’d always been close, but could there be more to their relationship than friendship? With Emily, his attraction had been immediate, strong...maybe immature and undeveloped? After all, he hadn’t really known her well when they’d gotten together before prom. Bailey, on the other hand... He knew her stubborn, independent nature, her love of sports, her connection to her hometown and her desire for a family one day. And he loved everything about her.

  The kiss had shown him yet another side of Bailey. Her passion and attraction to him had caught him completely off guard. How could he not have seen it coming? How could she never have said anything? Well, the message in that kiss was perfectly clear. Maybe it was time to take a closer look at his best friend.

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, Bailey struggled to run under the weight of the firefighter gear as she dashed around the plastic hydrants, placed two feet apart on the course. Ethan was ahead of her by several feet and she was desperate not to slow him down. Being the only female competitor made her even more determined to get through the training course with a good time.

  At the end of the hydrants, a one-hundred-and-fifteen-pound “Rescue Randy” dummy, plus coveralls and boots, lay waiting to be dragged backward a distance of a hundred feet. She glanced at the large clock on the tower. They were making good time, both having cleared the hydrants in less than forty-five seconds. She grabbed the dummy under the arms and lifted. Groaned aloud. This thing weighed almost as much as she did. She marveled how in the event of a real emergency, the guys were expected to carry someone twice this size to safety. She struggled to drag the limp, lifeless dummy, her legs heavy, her pace slow. This for sure would cost them a bit of time on the scoreboard.

  “Come on, Bailey, you’ve got this,” Ethan called from the end of that challenge. He waited until she’d dropped “Randy” on the other side of the one-hundred-foot line and smiled. “Great job,” he said, leading the way to the water hose event.

  Unable to catch her breath to speak, she just nodded. Panting, she joined him at the hoses and the two set off, dragging the long, heavy equipment toward the target seventy-five feet away. The training bull’s-eye was ablaze with a small, contained fire, and despite the distance, the heat made her cheeks flush. It was so intense, and this display was on a much smaller scale compared to what the fire crews faced in a real emergency. She couldn’t imagine how hot it would be in a building filled with flames and smoke.r />
  Naturally, Ethan got there first and sprayed his hose, hitting the bull’s-eye with expertise.

  Only seconds behind, she fumbled with the angle of the water spray, finally landing it in the center of the target, eliminating the flames and raising the flag. All clear. Following Ethan across the field, Bailey stopped just short of the open hole in the grassy field. She watched Ethan climb down the hole, then turn around and start his descent on the metal rungs attached to the concrete walls of the vertical tunnel.

  “Where are we going?”

  He paused and looked up at her. “To the underground tunnel. This is the confined-space part of the challenge.”

  “Confined space?” She hadn’t signed on for that. A wave of terror rose up in her and she turned toward the crowd of spectators behind the safety fence watching and cheering them on. Fire she could handle, feeling safe in the flame-retardant suit and helmet, but enclosed dark spaces were a different story.

  “Yes. It’s nothing. Ten feet at most, then up the other side,” Ethan said. “Come on. You go first.” He climbed back up the ladder.

  Bailey shook her head quickly. “No freaking way. I’ll follow you,” she said with a sigh, forcing her heart rate to slow. Ten feet underground, in a dark tunnel—no problem. She could do this. Think of it as being under a car in the bay at the shop.

  Hardly the same thing.

  “Ready?” Ethan asked, halfway down the ladder again.

  “Not really,” Bailey mumbled, but she turned backward and descended the eight or so metal rungs into the hole.

  The space grew darker the lower she went, but as she reached the bottom, a bright beam of light lit up the passageway in front of her.

  “Click the button on your helmet,” Ethan said.

  Turning on the flashlight, she was relieved to see that the corridor wasn’t as small as she’d expected. Bending low, she followed Ethan through the concrete structure, stepping over the dummy props they used in their regular rescue training. Thankfully she didn’t have to get one of them out of this trench. Again, she marveled at the courage and strength of the local firefighters. She could never perform these challenges for real. This training course taught them the skills they needed in an emergency situation, but it took a special person to be able to risk their own life for others. Reaching the other end, she climbed the ladder through the exit hole after Ethan.