What a Girl Wants

by Jennifer Snow

  At the top, he turned and reached for her hand, helping her up the last rung. The large crowd cheered as they resurfaced. “That was great. You’re amazing.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing about you,” Bailey said.

  * * *

  TAKING BAILEY’S HAND, Ethan led the way to their final challenge. He was impressed. Actually, impressed was an understatement. While she’d been hesitant at first, Bailey had conquered that confined-space area like a pro. In his training, he’d seen many firefighters freeze in fear in the four-foot-high and three-foot-wide tunnel. It was one of the primary reasons for the training—anxiety in an emergency situation could only lead to disaster.

  Bailey had sailed through it effortlessly. But as they approached the fire tower, he glanced back at her, unsure how she would react to the seven-story concrete building. He’d never known her to be afraid of heights, but there was always the possibility once she looked down with only a harness and rappel cable. Pausing at the base of the ladder, he was relieved to see her smiling as she approached.

  “What are you waiting for? Let’s go. We’re making great time.” She moved ahead of him to climb the ladder first.

  Shaking his head, he followed. How could he not be attracted to her? Courage was definitely an appealing feature in a woman and Bailey had plenty of it. At the top of the wall, he reached for their harnesses. Tugging on them to make sure they were secured, he motioned her closer.

  “Step through the holes,” he said.

  She did and he fastened the waist belt tightly. “How does that feel? Any pain or discomfort in your legs or groin?”

  “No, I’m fine. Hurry,” she urged.

  Ethan slipped into his own harness and turned to her. “Ready?”

  “Yes, let’s go,” she said, stepping back onto the edge of the wall and lowering her body over the side.

  The woman was amazing. Approaching the edge himself, Ethan felt his head swim, and his vision blurred. He was thrown slightly off-balance as he peered down. His chest tightened and his palms sweat. Moving away from the ledge, he forced a breath. What was that?

  “What are you doing?” Bailey called up. “Let’s go. I can’t cross the finish line without you.” She lowered herself another few inches. All that remained visible over the wall was her head and shoulders.

  “I don’t know. I don’t feel great,” Ethan said, approaching the edge again. His knees buckled as he drew closer to the drop off and his stomach lurched. Fear kept his feet frozen to the spot. How was this possible? He’d done this course before. Once at nineteen.... Though he’d never been this high since.

  “Are you okay? You look really pale.” A frown formed on Bailey’s forehead beneath her helmet as she studied him with concern.

  “I’m not sure I can do this,” he admitted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Every time I get close to the edge, I feel like I’m going to pass out.” This was embarrassing. A firefighter afraid of heights? Come on.

  “You’re afraid of heights?” Bailey asked in disbelief. “But you’ve done this before in training.”

  “Only once, and a long time ago.” The size of their fire hall and the types of calls they answered really didn’t require an annual refresher on the course. While he often trained new recruits, he hadn’t been up here himself for quite a long time. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Close your eyes and I’ll guide you to the edge.”

  Closing his eyes and approaching a drop-off didn’t sound like the best idea he’d ever heard. “Are you crazy?”

  “Trust me, if you can’t see the height, you can’t be afraid of it. I’ll wait here for you and we’ll go together.”

  “Okay.” Ethan closed his eyes, terror making his arms numb as he tightened his fingers on the rope.

  “Great, now sit back slowly,” Bailey said.

  Sitting back, he immediately shuffled his feet to secure them to the side of the wall.

  “That’s great,” she encouraged. “The hardest part is over. Open your eyes and let go of the rope little by little.”

  Relieved to see she hadn’t moved even an inch lower, keeping her promise to wait for him. Ethan let out a little of the rope. The sudden jolt and speed of the short descent made his pulse race. There was no way he could do this. Gripping the rope, terrified, he moved his body closer to the wall, looking for security. Instead, his feet lost contact and he was dangling by the harness.

  “Oh, no.”

  “Don’t panic. The harness has you secured,” Bailey said, swinging closer to him.

  “I’m terrified.” Frozen in fear, he couldn’t move. How was this happening? He couldn’t be afraid of heights. His job depended on him being able to do this.

  “Ooh,” Bailey said, a note of anxiety in her own voice.

  Ethan opened his eyes and turned to look down at her. “What? Are you okay?”

  “Not really. I’m starting to lose circulation in my legs.... I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

  Ethan swallowed hard. Great, she couldn’t hang there long without circulation in her legs. He had to pull it together and reach the bottom of the wall. “It’s getting worse,” she said, a note of desperation in her voice. “Ethan, I need your help.”

  Releasing the rope quickly, he fell a full story, springing back toward the wall next to her. Swinging his body as close to her as he could, he reached for the harness, but her rope let out and she dropped several feet. He dropped lower...so did she.

  “Bailey, quit moving so I can check your harness,” he said. What was she doing?

  Looking up toward him, she released the rope once more, dangling just inches from the ground. Shooting downward to meet her, he cocked his head to the side. “You think that was funny.” She’d tricked him.

  “It worked,” she said. “I knew once you thought someone else was in danger, you’d forget your own fear.” Her voice softened. “That’s what makes you so good at what you do.”

  Reaching across to touch her cheek beneath her helmet, he said, “What if it was just because it was you?” He moved closer and unlatched her helmet, dropping it to the ground, then raised his hand to brush the windblown, messy strands of dark hair from her flushed cheeks.

  “What are you doing?” She backed away a step, but grabbing her harness belt, he pulled her to him, closer this time until their bodies met. “Ethan, seriously, everyone in town’s staring at us.” Nervously, she glanced toward the crowd of people lining the field.

  “Good. Maybe this way you’ll have to kiss me. You don’t want people thinking you’re an arsonist and a heartbreaker, do you?”

  “Ethan...”

  His lips landed on hers, muffling her protests, and he wrapped his arms around her as he deepened the kiss, just barely aware of the applause and cheers from the spectators.

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, after waiting to hear the final announcement that Mark and his cousin Ed had won the challenge and were awarded the Fire Fit trophy, Ethan pulled into Luke’s driveway. The old home had belonged to the Kingston family until Mrs. Kingston sold the house to Luke a couple of years before when she decided to move into the senior’s complex in town.

  Grabbing the new building-code paperwork from the passenger seat, Ethan jumped down from the Jeep and jogged through the unexpected sun shower toward the front door. Knocking, he heard Madi, Luke’s husky, barking on the other side.

  Finally, as he was about to turn away, the door swung open.

  “Ethan, hi,” Victoria said.

  Ethan took in the disheveled bride-to-be, her blond, wavy hair coming free from her ponytail. White flour dusted her cheeks and forehead and she was wearing an apron. “What are you doing, Vic?”

  “Honestly, I wish I knew.... Come on inside.” She moved aside to let him
in.

  The smell of burning baked goods and the haze of a light smoke drifted into the large, open foyer of the magnificent old home. He coughed. “Do you have something in the oven?”

  Her eyes widened. “Shoot, I did it again.” She took off in a rush toward the kitchen.

  He followed, scanning the house for a fire extinguisher just in case. He spotted one in the kitchen as she opened the oven door and a blast of smoke poured out. Within seconds the smoke detector sounded and he rushed to it, standing on the edge of a chair in the hallway to hit the reset button. Then, rushing back into the kitchen, he opened the kitchen door and window.

  “Thanks,” Victoria said grimly as she tossed the tray of charcoal cookies onto the stove. “I don’t know what I keep doing wrong. I’m not leaving them in any longer than the recipe calls for.” She glanced at the premade cookie-dough wrapper and frowned.

  “Um, that’s not a recipe, that’s baking directions.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Not a thing.” Homemade was overrated anyway. He glanced at the oven. “Do you have it turned to the convection setting?” he asked.

  Victoria looked confused. “English, please.”

  He approached the oven and studied the dials. “See here—regular oven and convection. You have it set to convection.”

  “Yeah, but I still have no idea what that means.” Victoria placed her hands on her hips and studied the oven dials.

  “Convection distributes the heat evenly, so you can usually reduce your baking time by twenty-five percent,” Ethan explained.

  “How is it that you know that and I don’t?” Victoria sounded annoyed as she scraped the round chunks of hardened dough into the trash can under the sink.

  “My mom had two boys and Melody, who was always too busy with her music to bake. Between Jim and me, I drew the shorter straw I guess and got stuck baking with her on Sundays.” He shrugged. He’d actually liked learning to bake as a kid, not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

  “Oh,” she said, taking another tray from the oven drawer and placing lumps of the cookie dough on the sheet.

  “Um, Vic. Shouldn’t you grease the pan first?”

  She looked confused. “Huh?”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” He opened the fridge door and took out a container of margarine. “Plastic baggies?”

  She pointed to the second drawer near the fridge and folded her arms, watching him.

  He slid his hand into the baggie and scooped out a lump of margarine, smearing it across the pan and into the four corners. “Like this. It keeps the cookies from sticking.”

  “Oh,” she said, handing him the cookie dough and allowing him to spoon it onto the pan and slide it into the oven. He set the timer for eight minutes. “I didn’t even know that feature existed.”

  “Can I ask why you’re baking?” Victoria Mason was about as far from being “domestic” as one could get. A career-minded businesswoman, she’d busied herself with turning the Brookhollow Inn into a place tourists would be happy to stay, but he knew the food preparation for the Inn was taken care of by Ginger Snaps on Main Street, with fresh baked goods delivered daily at 6:00 a.m.

  “Luke loves his cookies, muffins and cakes.” Victoria looked really distraught.

  “Victoria, you and Luke have known each other for years. He knows you can’t bake. He doesn’t expect you to. He loves you despite your inability to boil water,” Ethan teased.

  “I’m not that bad....”

  Ethan struggled to look serious. “He told me about the hot dogs.”

  “He did what?” she asked, mortified.

  “He thought it was the cutest thing ever,” Ethan reassured her. “And trust me, he doesn’t expect you to change just because you’re getting married.”

  Victoria slumped into a kitchen chair. “I hope not....” she said as her cell phone rang on the table next to her. She silenced the call.

  “If you have to answer that...”

  She shook her head. “No way. It’s Mrs. Dawson. She’s making the wedding cake this weekend and she’s calling to see if I’ve decided on a topper yet.”

  “Have you?” It seemed like a reasonable question to ask, but Victoria narrowed her eyes.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Ethan cringed, taking a step back. “Sorry, none of my business.”

  Victoria’s shoulders relaxed and she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. You know, before, in New York, my friend Heather and I would watch those crazy wedding reality shows and make fun of the stressed-out brides and their lavish wedding plans, but I’m telling you, karma is kicking my butt right now. I’d totally forgotten since the last time we did this how stressful planning a wedding can be. I’m seriously turning into one of those bridezillas.” She rubbed her forehead as the home phone rang.

  “Should you get that?” Ethan asked.

  “Probably,” Victoria answered, letting it ring.

  “Are you going to?”

  “Nope. Anyway, you must have stopped by for something other than putting my fire out...unless your training gives you a sixth sense about when a house is about to burn down?”

  “There was something, actually.” He handed her the fire safety codes for the new garage. “I stopped by to give these to Luke for Bailey’s garage.”

  Victoria scanned the paperwork. “A new sprinkler system, ventilation system.... Not taking any chances, huh?”

  Actually, he was about to take the biggest chance of all where Bailey was concerned. “Nope,” he said instead, answering her question.

  The oven chimed and she scanned the kitchen. “What was that?”

  “The timer. The cookies are done,” Ethan said, grabbing the oven mitts. “I may as well just finish the job, huh?” he teased, taking out the perfectly golden chocolate-chip cookies.

  “They...they actually look edible.” Victoria eyed the cookies in shock. “I did it....”

  “Well...”

  “Shh, I’m totally taking credit for these,” Victoria said with a laugh.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BAILEY RUSHED INTO Klip and Dye, the hair salon on Main Street, several hours after the competition. She’d been neglecting her highlights and if she was posing for wedding photos in a few weeks, they needed to be done. Admittedly, she had been tempted to skip the appointment or reschedule, reluctant to leave Ethan after their passionate, public display on the field. A wide smile crept across her face. He hadn’t wanted to rush off either, but he’d been satisfied with her promise to go out with him that evening. Where he was taking her, he was keeping to himself. A surprise date...with Ethan. If she was dreaming, she’d kill the person who woke her.

  “Hi, Alice, I’m here for my appointment with Amanda.”

  Alice had owned the salon for as long as Bailey could remember, but she’d retired from doing hair the year before, claiming the arthritis in her hands couldn’t be trusted not to give someone a mullet. She nodded as she consulted the computer screen and glanced at the clock. “Sure. She’s just running a few minutes late with Lindsay, but have a seat. I’ll let her know you are here.”

  She hobbled into the back cutting area, divided by sliding doors to keep the salon private from the main retail and waiting area. With a big window looking out on one of the busiest streets in Brookhollow, Alice claimed her clients didn’t want the town to see them with silver foils in their hair.

  Bailey sat and sighed. Lindsay Harper was here. She’d noticed her on the field earlier that day and she suspected the other woman wouldn’t be leaving the salon without gathering more information to spread throughout town. Lindsay was one of the best nurses on staff at the medical center, but she was also the town expert at making sure gossip spread as quickly as possible, and she prided herself on being the source.

&nb
sp; Bailey’s cell phone chimed with Ethan’s familiar tone and all thoughts of Lindsay vanished. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Hugging the phone to her chest, she enjoyed the wave of euphoria. Finally, after all this time loving him and wanting to be with him, did she dare hope it was finally happening?

  “Bailey!” Lindsay’s high-pitched squeal shattered her fantastic thoughts.

  “Hi, Lindsay,” Bailey said, tucking her phone into her denim purse. “Your hair looks great.”

  Lindsay wouldn’t be put off course. “So what does it mean?”

  “What does what mean?” Stalling for time was probably a futile effort, but she did it anyway.

  “That kiss with Ethan!”

  Bailey cringed as Lindsay’s voice rang through the shop, capturing the attention of several women Bailey recognized from the bank on the corner. Intrigue flashed in their eyes before they turned their attention back to their product selection. Bailey suspected they were keeping an ear tuned to the conversation, so she said, “Oh, you know Ethan, always goofing around.” She hoped the lie sounded nonchalant.

  Lindsay raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Goofing around? Bailey, I dream of a kiss like that. If that was goofing around... Hmm.” Her face took on a look of contemplation and she was silent—a true rarity—for a long moment.

  “Lindsay? You still with me?”

  “Yeah, I was just thinking maybe I should make a play for him.”

  “No!”

  Lindsay grinned and Bailey realized she’d been set up.

  “Just goofing around, huh?”

  Her heart bursting at the seams with happiness, Bailey didn’t care if Lindsay told everyone in Brookhollow about them. After all, Ethan hadn’t been concerned when he’d kissed her.