“Uncle Max!” Ava leaped from her seat, wrapped her arms around Max’s middle, squeezing tight, and buried her face in his striped work shirt.
“Hey, kiddo.” Max ruffled Ava’s hair. “What are y’all up to in here?”
“Drawing.” Ava darted to the table and proudly held up her sketch. “What do you think? It’s for Caley’s grandmother in the nursing home.”
Max shot Caley a wink, then turned an approving smile at Ava. “I think she’ll have the best-decorated room in the entire joint.”
Ava grinned, cheeks flushed happily, and went back to finishing the sky and clouds.
Max held out his hand to Caley. “I’m Max Ringgold. I don’t think Brady let me officially introduce myself yet.”
What did he mean, let him? “Caley Foster.” She shook his hand, his grip similar to Brady’s and lined with calluses. But while Max oozed charm from every dirt-covered pore, he didn’t have Brady’s sincere eyes—or his smile, for that matter. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but Max didn’t seem to notice as he strode to the refrigerator.
“We needed some water. The dorm fridge in the barn is empty.” Max snagged several bottles from inside and shut the door with his heel. “And I thought any excuse to meet the Caley Foster was a great one.”
Caley fought the urge to roll her eyes. He’d won points with her when he’d exclaimed over Ava’s hard work. It was obvious the girl drank in praise like rain seeped into the desert sands. But he was losing those points quick. “I’m not that spectacular, don’t worry.”
Max leaned against the fridge, appearing to be in no hurry to get back to the barn with the water. “That’s not what I hear.”
Had Brady been discussing her with Max? And if so, in what way? Surely just in regard to Ava and the way she’d connected with the girl during her week of babysitting. Surely not anything more.
She decided to keep it light, just in case. Crossing her arms, she mimicked his overly casual pose. “Then did you hear about the inedible cookies and the burned casserole?” Definitely not spectacular. In fact, she was a little surprised after the incident with Spitfire and lack of ability in the kitchen that Brady hadn’t let her go. He must be more desperate with Mary gone than she’d realized.
Max snorted back a laugh, his eyes lighting. But they still didn’t do to her stomach what Brady’s intense gaze did. “I did, actually. But don’t worry. Ava isn’t the only one who thinks you’re awesome.”
She definitely didn’t miss that insinuation.
Max continued before she could figure out how to respond. “So what’s next for you? After this gig is up, I mean.” He gestured with a bottle to Ava, who had finished her picture and started a new one with the red-colored pencil.
“I’m hoping to get hired at district one.” She sat down across from Ava, putting even more distance between her and Max. She knew he was harmless, but the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was flirting back.
“The fire station?” Genuine surprise filled Max’s voice, followed by a slow grin that slid up his cheeks. “You’re a firefighter?”
“Yep!” Ava piped up as she scribbled on her new drawing. “She’s got a T-shirt and a real pager and everything.”
She held a hand over her mouth to hide her smile at the pride highlighting Ava’s voice. It was as if the younger girl had taken ownership in Caley’s interests. Fine by her—maybe she’d be a better example to Ava than she’d originally hoped. If the only female role model in Ava’s life was an elderly lady, Caley would gladly display the role of a strong, independent young woman. As strict as Brady was, Ava needed to find that balance. Quickly.
Before she ended up running from the past her entire life, like Caley.
“Is that so?” Max ambled toward them from the fridge, juggling several bottles of water. The look on his face changed from surprise to amusement. “A firewoman.”
“It’s firefighter, like anyone else. And if you’re thinking of a cracking a sexist joke, I’ve heard them all.” Caley twirled a colored pencil between her fingers, trying to downplay her irritation.
Max’s cheeky smile widened as the back door opened. “Does Brady know?”
“Know what?” Brady stepped inside with an easy smile, his eyes darting from her to Ava to Max. “And where’s that water, man?”
“We were just discussing Caley’s career.” Max slapped a water bottle against Brady’s chest as he joined him at the back door. Then he looped his arm around Brady’s shoulders, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think you’ll be especially interested in this one. Turns out your temporary nanny is even more of an—” he let out a dramatic cough “—influence than you thought.”
“What career?” Confusion dotted Brady’s expression as he shoved Max’s arm off his back. “Caley doesn’t have a job. That’s why she was able to babysit Ava. At least, for now anyway.” He turned to Caley with a frown. “Right?”
Her heart stammered in her chest as she glanced from Max to Brady. He definitely didn’t know about the fire department, but just because it had never come up. She had the sudden feeling it was going to matter. A lot. A storm cloud brewed overhead in the kitchen, tension in the air as static as electricity. She opened her mouth to answer, but Ava beat her to it.
“Dad, don’t be silly. Caley has an awesome job. Or she will, at least.” Ava hopped up from her chair and carried her new drawing to her dad. “See?”
She could barely make out Ava’s picture from her angle at the table, but the outline of the fire truck and water hose through the thin paper was clear enough.
And by the way Brady’s face paled, it was plenty clear to him, too.
Chapter Nine
So much for timing.
Brady hammered a wooden post, freshly strung with barbed wire, into the ground with a sharp bang of his hammer. Bam. The echoing thud numbed his ears and sent a tingle down the hand he’d used to brace against the post, but unfortunately the physical labor did nothing to erase what had just happened.
Caley. A firefighter.
The woman he hired to be a good influence on his daughter.
The woman he’d almost asked to become an even closer part of his life.
Bam.
Talk about being a bad judge of character. Suddenly, her sitting on her roof to stargaze or wanting to help him round up Spitfire wasn’t an issue. Those actions he could justify, could rationalize away with her having a romantic or protective streak.
Firefighting wasn’t a streak. It was a choice—a daily choice to put one’s life on the line for others. A premade decision to run into the flames when others ran out. It put risk taking on the map in a way a roof and a bull never could.
Bam.
He didn’t know if the relief or disappointment was greater: relief that he’d dodged that bullet before he’d actually asked her out on a date or disappointment that now he never could.
Bam.
On second thought, the disappointment was definitely greater. He’d already pictured them at dinner, enjoying a medium-rare steak and him teasing her about her cooking abilities. Laughing at something she said Ava had done the night before. Sharing more of his past with her.
Kissing her good-night at her doorstep.
Bam. The hammer almost hit his thumb that time, so Brady dropped the tool in the grass.
And Ava—he wrenched his work gloves from his hands, pausing to wipe his forehead with the back of one before tossing it on the ground, too. She was already impressed with Caley—thought she hung the moon along with those little glow-in-the-dark stars they’d finally stuck to her bedroom ceiling. Just one more way Caley had stepped in and kept a promise he’d broken. No wonder Ava preferred her—they could talk. They had things in common. Caley was there for her when he couldn’t be. He’d be sucked in, too. In fact, he had been. Eve
rything about Caley was contagious.
But how far would her influence spread? Would Ava get so caught up in the adventure of Caley’s career choice that she’d want to pursue it, too? Or something else equally dangerous? He couldn’t lose his daughter. He realized he couldn’t put her in a protective bubble all her life, either, but some things were in his control.
And he wasn’t about to let go of them now.
He slowly picked up the hammer, turning it over in his hands and running his finger over the smooth metal head. The answer was clear, but knowing that truth didn’t make it any easier to admit.
Caley had to go.
For all their sakes.
He stared out over his fields, serene and golden in the setting sun.
But maybe mostly for his.
* * *
Autumn leaves crunched under her feet as Caley walked through the pasture toward Brady. She flinched at his sharp, jerky movements as he tossed first his hammer and then his gloves onto the ground. Good thing she’d left Ava in the house to finish one last picture for Nonie tomorrow. The last thing Ava needed was to see her dad up in arms—over Caley, no less. She had the feeling Ava’s loyalty wasn’t exactly in the right place at the moment, and the younger girl would side with her instead.
But with the way Brady buried himself in his work, how could anyone blame her?
Several yards away, Brady tugged his gloves back on and resumed his work. Muscles bunched under the sweat-stained back of his white undershirt as he tugged more fencing into place. His tan work shirt lay rumpled in the grass, as if it, too, were a casualty of whatever war he fought inside his head.
Caley slowed as she neared, partially because she was unsure what to say and partially because she couldn’t help but enjoy the view of his labor. She rolled in her lower lip, berating herself. How could she possibly be concerned about an attraction right now, when the man had all but run out of the house at the news of her career?
Maybe she should go back to the house. Give him space to think. Apparently her being a firefighter was a big deal—but why couldn’t he just talk to her? Surely he wasn’t one of those old-fashioned, sexist types who thought women belonged in the kitchen. Then again, wasn’t that how he treated Ava?
No, she wasn’t ready for this conversation after all. Not when her pulse leaped just from watching the man work. She needed to get her reactions under control before she let herself get hurt. Before she let herself feel something that would get them all in trouble. She needed time to put her armor in place—the armor that had somehow slipped when she crossed the county line into Broken Bend, and had yet to right itself.
A thin branch snapped under her feet, and Brady threw a look over his shoulder as he straightened.
So much for going back to the house. His intense gaze drew her in, raking down the length of her before meeting her eyes.
And blinking her away.
Just like that, he went back to the fence in his hands. Was that an invitation to stay, or a demand to leave? Indignation began a steady burn in her stomach. This might be his land and his house, but if he wouldn’t even dignify her with words, then she’d make her own decisions.
“Who do you think you are?” The words flew from her lips before she could censor them as she closed the distance toward him.
He dropped the fencing again, his gloved hands landing on his jeans-clad hips as he turned to face her. He didn’t look surprised, as if he knew even before she did that she’d come for a fight. “It’s not who I am. It’s who you are.”
“Let me guess. A female firefighter.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her heartbeat accosting her ears.
“No. A firefighter.”
“Don’t pretend like the adjective doesn’t matter.”
Brady tugged off his gloves again but didn’t throw them this time, despite the frustration seeping from his expression. “It’s not about being a woman.”
She hitched her eyebrows at him, and his concentrated stare broke away. “Right. Just like I thought. It’s always about being a woman.” She’d heard it all before, men backpedaling when she confronted them about their old-fashioned, misguided beliefs. She hadn’t made it this far to be called naive now. She knew how the world worked.
“I don’t care in general. I care—” He let out a sigh, before crossing his arms to match her own defensive posture. “I care about my family. I care about the effect it has on Ava.”
“You think because her temporary nanny is trying to get on the local fire department that she’ll be ruined for life?” She let out a huff of disbelief. “If anything is going to ruin her it’s—” She bit her own lip to stop the word you from escaping.
But from the shock wave of hurt radiating from Brady’s face, he heard it anyway.
The wind kicked up, stirring the dry leaves at their feet and illuminating the silence pulsing between them. One oak leaf, stained crimson and gold, fluttered in a slow circle before settling on Brady’s boot. He slowly reached down to pick it up, twirling the short stem between his fingers and avoiding her eyes. Good. Maybe he wouldn’t see the shame creeping up her neck, the same color as the leaf. She’d gone too far. He’d apologized in the past to her. Now it was her turn.
She licked her dry lips. “Brady, I’m sorry, I—”
“No. You’re right.” The resignation in his voice cut deeper than any preconceived notions he might have about women. “I’m doing my best with Ava. But it’s not enough.”
“You’re doing fine.” The protest sounded pitiful and weak even to her own ears, and she suddenly wished she could fly away on the wind like the leaves around them. She shouldn’t have come out here.
Maybe shouldn’t have moved here.
“Look. We both know the truth.” Brady dropped the leaf he held and it fell to the ground, missing the previous current of air. Caley stared at it, mixed among the dry grass and skeletal remains of other leaves, much less glorious in color. “Ava might respect me, might love me out of obligation for the time being. But she doesn’t need me.”
She snapped her head up to meet Brady’s pain-stricken eyes. “That’s not true.”
“She needs you.” The words grunted from his throat, rough and gravelly. “She needs a woman.” He coughed, and when he spoke again, his tone relaxed as if with resignation. “Five minutes ago, I was ready to fire you. But if you leave, she has no babysitter. And I have no cook or housekeeper.”
This was it. Her ticket out. She could walk right now. Leave Brady and the annoying chemistry between them and his drama far behind. Leave his old-fashioned tendencies and overprotective streak that brought back memories she desperately wanted to keep buried. But she had to have a paycheck until the fire department came around.
And she had to show Brady that he was wrong. Ava did need him—just not the way he was providing. Caley had gone overseas with the Peace Corps and helped poverty-stricken nations, but what good was that if she couldn’t help her own neighbors? If she didn’t mend that fence and show Brady and Ava the way back to each other, she would have failed at the same mission in her life.
Twice.
She clenched her fists at her side and took a deep breath. Hopefully she—and Brady—wouldn’t regret this. She swallowed hard before speaking. “I’d like to keep the job.”
“Then we need a truce.” He held out his hand to shake hers. “No playing up the fire department in Ava’s eyes. No crazy stuff—like roof climbing or bull chasing.”
Caley rolled her eyes. “Do you really think I’d put Ava on the roof?”
“I don’t know what you’d do.” His eyes searched hers, hand outstretched in an offering. “I don’t know you.”
That burned more than it should have.
“Miss Caley!”
Ava’s excited shout made them both turn toward the house. She stood
framed in the open back door, waving something wildly over her head. “Your pager just went off!”
Of all the timing. Caley turned back to Brady just in time to see him withdraw his hand.
“Duty calls.” His lips thinned into a tight line and he swiveled toward his fence.
“My duty is with your daughter when I’m here.” Caley grabbed at his arm, his sun-warmed skin heating her palm like a branding iron. She dropped her hand to her side, noting the way Brady’s eyes darted to his arm as if he’d been burned. Chemistry or not, she had something to say. And he needed to hear it. “My volunteer work is strictly after babysitting hours. You need to know that.” She kept her promises. She would do right by Ava—that was her first priority. Didn’t he see that? I don’t know you. The pain shook her deeper than she’d expected. They’d had a connection. On the roof of her house. In the bed of his truck. In the kitchen, surrounded by broken glass. How could he say that?
“But what about when the job is over?” Brady removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair, sweeping the dark strands over his head before securing the brim back in place. “What then?”
“What’s it matter to you?” She swallowed the hurt she couldn’t tame. “Then I’ll just be a female firefighter.” She strode away before he could answer.
And more importantly, before she could figure out why tears burned the backs of her eyes.
Chapter Ten
Of all the places a child could be on a Saturday morning, Ava seemed perfectly content to relax by Nonie’s bedside, playing Go Fish with a crinkled deck of cards and arguing over which game-show rerun to watch on TV.
Caley was jealous of a ten-year-old.
She shifted in her hard chair, the vinyl seat chilly through her capri pants, and shivered. The nursing home must keep the thermostat on fifty degrees, but Nonie didn’t seem to notice, even wearing a thin flowered housedress. The flow from the air vents rustled the pictures Ava had colored on the bulletin board by Nonie’s bed. She and Ava had been there for almost an hour already, and neither her grandmother nor the younger girl cared about the cold. They were having too much fun.
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