Hometown Fireman

by Lissa Manley

  She sighed and dropped her hand. “What’s the problem?”

  He stood, his hands on his hips. “I’m not going to act as your intermediary with Dad. If you need to give him something, you’ll have to give it to him yourself.”

  Pursing her lips, she stared at him. “Is this really the way you want to play this?”

  “Excuse me, but you and Dad are the ones playing things this way. Phoebe and I are just stuck in the middle.” Drew ground his molars together. “You two are adults. You need to find a way to deal with your differences without expecting Phoebe and me to tiptoe around, delivering messages.” He nodded toward the envelope in her hand. “Or whatever.”

  Her eyes drifted sideways.

  “And don’t even think about asking Jan to give that to Dad.”

  Mom frowned. “Well, aren’t you full of vinegar today.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.” For some reason, every time he’d closed his eyes to go to sleep, a vision of Ally standing there, watching her home burn, rose in his mind. He’d tossed and turned all night, haunted by the desolate expression on her face, by the thought of her all alone, with nowhere to go. Essentially homeless. And he couldn’t deny that he was still intrigued by her and her story.

  Mom sat in the chair across from his desk. “No doubt you were awake all night dreaming up ways to get your dad and me to talk.”

  “No, actually, I was thinking about Ally’s situation.”

  Mom’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “Really?”

  He held up his hands. “I feel bad for her. She suffered a terrible blow yesterday, and I’m concerned, that’s all.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Mom said.

  “Why?”

  “Because Ally is meeting Chief McCoy at her house in fifteen minutes, and I think you should go with her.”

  “I’m buried here,” he said quickly, gesturing to the piles of paperwork on his desk and then at his computer. “Maybe you could go.” Someone should. But preferably not him. Getting any more involved with the lovely and intriguing Miss York would be a mistake.

  “Oh, no, I can’t,” Mom said, standing as she looked at her watch. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment I can’t miss.”

  He studied her, his matchmaking radar going haywire. “Mom, what are you doing?”

  She straightened the collar of her coat and gave him a curious look. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you trying to get Ally and me…together?” Mom had made no secret of her desire to see him married with children. He wouldn’t put matchmaking beyond her.

  “Should I be?” she asked, her voice echoing with a speculative tone that put his teeth on edge.

  He sighed. “No, Mom. But you do seem to be trying to get us to spend time together this morning.” After an under-the-breath snort, he added, “Before long you’ll be talking engagement party.”

  She blinked. “Where did that come from?”

  “C’mon. You’re a romantic. You’ve said so yourself.” Although lately it seemed as if every shred of that romantic had gone poof. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about me getting married.”

  A hopeful light grew in her eyes. “Would that be so bad? Don’t you want to fall in love?”

  “No way.” He’d done the love thing, and it had ended horribly. For him at least. “Love turning out well is nothing but a myth.”

  Mom pursed her lips and shook her head. “Honestly, Drew, sometimes I don’t know where this cynical side of you comes from.”

  “I can’t believe you have to ask that.”

  “Well, I know Natalie hurt you, but that was back in college.”

  “Yeah, it was a long time ago.” But he had loved her with everything in him. And he’d thought she’d loved him back since she’d been wearing his engagement ring for a month and they’d been close to setting a date.

  Until she’d left him for an Italian exchange student and moved to Rome the very day she’d unceremoniously dumped Drew and given his ring back. She’d broken his heart, and it had never healed. At least not fully. His whole being had seemed to freeze that snowy day in January, and it was still numb. Oh, sure, he dated some. But he kept it casual. Getting his heart involved was out of the question.

  “So you’re not over her?” Mom asked, her brow crinkling.

  “I’m not still in love with her,” he replied carefully, truthfully. “But what she did changed me inside.” He expelled a sharp breath, then segued into another subject by saying, “What about you and Dad?”

  Mom froze. “What about us?”

  Maybe she didn’t know how much their rift had affected Drew. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt and set her straight at the same time. “I thought you and Dad had the perfect relationship, and look how that worked out. You two are living under separate roofs and you’re not even speaking.” It was the awful truth and had him twisted in so many knots he had to say something. “It just confirms that even the strongest love has problems.”

  Her eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth to respond. But then she just as quickly clamped it shut. “I’m not discussing that.”

  Of course not. No wonder she was clueless about his feelings. Everything was off-limits these days.

  She belatedly lifted her chin, undoubtedly to strengthen her stance, and then went on. “Ally needs help, that’s all.” Mom fiddled with the buttons on her coat. “Do I really have to make that clear? Honestly, where’s your compassion?”

  Chastised, he could only give her a blank look. There was the guilt thing she wielded so well, cutting him down to size with one swipe. Maybe he deserved it. Honestly, right now, he didn’t know which way was up with his parents.

  Tut-tutting, Mom moved toward his office door, looking over her shoulder. “Try to stop reading so much into everything, all right?” She stopped and turned around, then nailed him with a pointed look. “Just do the Christian thing and help Ally face her burned-down house, knowing she has someone on her side.”

  His face heating, he watched Mom disappear, feeling as if she’d given him what for. Could anyone lay guilt on like an opinionated mother?

  The problem was, his mom’s guilt trips were usually right on target. And this one was no exception. He was being uncharacteristically uncharitable. Guess the stress of his life, what with his parents’ problems and the upcoming changes looming in his own future, really had him in a funk.

  Adjusting his attitude, he closed down his computer with a few keystrokes, grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and headed out his office door. Seemed he was going to be spending the morning being Ally’s much-needed support system. Whether he was comfortable with the idea or not.

  *

  As she waited for Chief McCoy to arrive for their meeting, Ally stared at the blackened shell of what used to be her home. Rising from the far edge of the house, the brick fireplace was all that was still intact. Worse yet, a huge pile of charred furniture was piled in the middle of the yard, a stark, undeniable testament to the devastating effect of the fire.

  Though she was standing twenty yards away from the pile of burned rubble, the scent of fire-scorched debris drifted to her on the persistent breeze.

  The smell of broken dreams.

  She pressed a hand to her mouth, realizing that she’d somehow hoped that maybe the fire hadn’t done as much damage as she’d imagined. But, no. Everything was gone.

  She had nowhere to live, with two sweet dogs depending on her. Guess she’d be staying with Drew’s parents for the foreseeable future. And while Grace was one of the nicest women Ally had ever met, she was still a stranger. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. But her options were nonexistent, so she’d do what was necessary, as she always had.

  Pressure built in her chest. God, I could really use Your help now. Please help me to deal with this crisis in my life with faith and grace….

  The sound of tires on gravel crunched behind her. With a fortifyin
g breath, she turned and saw Drew’s bright red pickup truck moving slowly up the driveway.

  Great. Just great. Grace must have sent him. Honestly, he was the last person she wanted to see right now. Oh, he was pleasant enough—very pleasant, in fact. But she always felt so off-kilter when he was around.

  Maybe she was being paranoid, but it seemed as if he was always watching, weighing and assessing. And he brought up the tough topics, too. Such as when he told her it seemed as if she spoke from experience about covering up versus opening up. She’d shut the conversation down—no way was she talking about her reasons; that was too painful a subject to share. With anyone. But he’d seemed interested, and that made her uncomfortable.

  Not to mention that he was flat-out gorgeous. Those brown eyes and his dark blond hair…

  She surreptitiously made an effort to look as if her chest weren’t caving in as he pulled the truck to a halt about twenty feet away. After a moment, he climbed out. He was dressed in black dress pants, a white dress shirt and a black-and-blue-striped tie; apparently he’d come from work. What was it about a man in a white shirt and tie, anyway? Just kill her now.

  He headed toward her, all confident and strong-looking, and she couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders under his thin dress shirt, shoulders that seemed as if they could carry any load, anytime.

  But not her load. She drew herself up, both literally and figuratively. She knew better than to count on anyone; an endless stream of temporary homes and parents had taught her that lesson early on. Oh, sure, he’d more than likely feel obligated to help her. But she’d seen enough “obligation” in her life to know it didn’t mean much in the long run.

  The wind gusted, and she shivered as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. But she held her shoulders straight and tried to look strong. Unbreakable.

  He drew near, his eyes scanning the burned-out wreckage that was once the place she wanted to call home. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his chocolate-tinged gaze full of genuine empathy that made her throat thick. Surprisingly, he reached out and squeezed her arm above her elbow. “I know how hard this must be.”

  His touch decimated her backbone. She blinked rapidly several times. Crying never helped, and it always made her feel so weak, so vulnerable. She wished he’d skip the empathy; life was less messy that way.

  He leaned in close enough so she could smell the faint spice of his aftershave. “You okay?”

  No, she wasn’t. But she knew the part too well not to carry on as if she were holding things together. “I’ll be fine,” she said, figuring that if she acted fine, she’d be fine. Eventually. Maybe. But then again, she’d been holding onto that hope forever, and her grip was slipping.

  “You look pale.” He put his hands in his pockets as his gaze drifted back to the burned shell of her home. After a significant pause, he rubbed his brow, looked right at her and said, “Listen. I’m…um, worried about you.”

  His words swiped an even broader slash at her carefully constructed yet tenuous control. No one had been worried about her for a very long time. “I’m…fine,” she managed, barely, not meeting his gaze for fear of losing it. “This is just a bump in the road.” More like a giant sinkhole, but whatever.

  He said nothing right away.

  She looked at the scraggly grass at her feet, wanting with everything in her to run away from his concern. From those eyes. From him. He made her feel exposed. Spineless. As if she needed him. Needing him, needing anyone, wasn’t something she could allow. Too much heartache lay down that path.

  “Ally, look at me,” he finally said.

  Swallowing, she turned to him, drawn to his whisper-soft voice.

  “Why are you putting on an act?” he asked.

  Guess she wasn’t as good at pretending to be fine as she thought she was. She’d have to work on that. “I’m not—”

  He took her hand and squeezed it, cutting off her words with his strong, warm grip. “Yes, you are. You’re pretending to be okay.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because my mom does the same thing.”

  Oh, yeah. He was familiar with the move. Just Ally’s luck.

  When she stayed quiet, he said, “Hey, it’s okay to let us—um, me, help you.”

  “Yeah, right.” She let out a heavy breath. “I’ve heard that before,” she said before she could reel the words back.

  He canted his head to the side, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  She wished she’d kept her big mouth shut. She couldn’t talk to him about how she’d trusted others to help her in the past and how those choices had been the biggest mistakes of her life. No way. Those memories were too painful—

  Gravel crunched again, cutting off her thoughts, and a black SUV pulled into the driveway. The chief.

  “Good timing for you,” Drew muttered under his breath.

  She pretended not to hear him.

  The wind kicked up again, and a light mist started falling. Figured.

  He stood there, silent for a moment, then jerked his chin toward his truck. “I’m going to go get my coat. We’ll talk later.”

  She watched him walk to his truck, mentally slapping her head, wishing she’d kept the “Yeah, I’ve heard that before” comment to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was arouse his curiosity about her past any more than she already had.

  She’d come to Moonlight Cove to make a fresh start in her dream town and put her past behind her. She wasn’t going to trade sob stories with anyone, certainly not with Drew with his soft eyes and broad shoulders and…everything. Just the thought made her stomach pitch.

  As she waited for the chief to come over, she told herself that somehow she was going to have to deflect Drew’s interest in picking her apart.

  But since she was going to be staying with his parents for a while, keeping his probing questions at bay was going to be tricky.

  Even for a seasoned veteran like herself.

  Chapter Four

  A few days after the fire, Drew stayed at the office late to catch up on some paperwork. The Sullivans’ offer had been accepted, and they were on a tight deadline. The sellers had already bought a house in Seattle and were anxious to get things rolling and through closing as fast as possible.

  Well, yeah, that was one reason he was behind, he thought as he waited for the offer paperwork to print out. Frankly, his mind hadn’t seemed to be in the game since Ally had come into his life. His focus was shot; at the oddest times, he found himself thinking about the heartbreaking expression he’d seen on her face when he’d found her standing there, looking at the mound of charred debris piled in the front yard of what had been her home.

  And when they’d walked through the wreckage of the house with the chief? From the desolate look on her face, Drew wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d buckled on the spot.

  But she hadn’t. Not Ally. Instead, she’d put her spine of steel into action and had simply lifted her chin and carried on.

  Even when it had become evident that none of her belongings were salvageable and that she had nothing left.

  He admired her grit, her obvious determination to forge onward without betraying her despair. Even as he wondered about its source. There always seemed to be a sadness hovering in the depths of her eyes, just under the surface. Though it was foolish to get caught up in Ally’s life, he was curious about her.

  Was her time in foster care at the root of her sorrow? What had happened? How had she ended up in the system?

  Those questions nagged at him as he gathered the thick sheaf of papers and headed back to his office.

  Suddenly, a key rattled in the lock of the front door. He looked up and saw Dad coming in with a wet umbrella in his hand.

  For an instant, Drew considered trying to avoid him; it had been a long, busy day, and he wasn’t exactly up for a confrontation. That was how most conversations between him and Dad turned out these days. But scurrying to his own office to hide seemed sil
ly, and childish at that. Not to mention that he was tired of walking on thin ice around his father. He’d been doing that for most of his adult life and he was beyond weary with the situation.

  Guess that would end as soon as he moved to Atherton. Surprisingly, that thought filled him with disquietingly equal measures of regret and anticipation.

  Dad shook off the umbrella and closed it with a snap. Then he looked up and saw Drew standing there. Dad paused, his brown eyes unblinking, and swiped a hand through the graying hair at his temples. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I’m finishing up the Sullivans’ paperwork for our meeting tomorrow.”

  Dad set the umbrella on the reception counter. “Ah. Yes.” He picked up the messages Jan had left for him. “Heard that deal went through.”

  For a heartbeat, Drew waited for a pat on the back; he’d done an exemplary job on the Sullivan deal, given how far apart the seller’s asking price and the Sullivans’ initial offer had been.

  However, he was greeted with nothing but silence as his dad read the small pink slips of paper in his hands.

  “You know, Dad, the deal almost didn’t happen.”

  “Really?”

  Drew ground his molars together until his jaw ached. “Don’t play games.”

  He gave Drew a blank look.

  “I heard you talking to Jan about the offer history, so I know you’re aware of how the whole thing went down.”

  Dad’s face remained completely impassive.

  Drew’s neck heated. “Why can’t you just give me some credit here?”

  “I give you plenty of credit,” Dad replied.

  Drew stared at him. “Ever since you got wind of my plans to move to Atherton, you haven’t been able to even be civil to me, let alone praise me for a job well done around here.”

  “I gave you credit for years, and look where that got me,” Dad snapped.

  “This isn’t about you,” Drew whipped back.

  Dad slapped the messages on the counter. “But it is all about you, right?”

  “I didn’t say that—”

  “You didn’t have to. Your actions lately tell that story.”