Hometown Fireman

by Lissa Manley

  “My actions?” Drew snorted. “I’m just following my dream, Dad. Doing what I want. And you always reduce that to mere actions rather than anything important.”

  “And what about my dream to have you take over the business I built from the ground up?” Dad gestured around. “I went from working on the kitchen table to this, and you’re just going to walk away from all of it.”

  Drew felt his pulse in his forehead. “That’s just the thing. This place is your dream, not mine.”

  “Yeah, you’ve made it abundantly clear this all means nothing to you.”

  “Here we go with that again,” Drew replied. They’d had this conversation up, down, diagonal and sideways, and they never seemed to find any common ground.

  “Yeah, here we go,” Dad shot back. “I trained you for years, ever since you started working here after school when you were sixteen.”

  “You can replace me,” Drew said with a great amount of control, which belied the rancid churning in his gut.

  “Moonlight Cove isn’t exactly a hotbed of real estate sales talent. Replacing you is going to be a big problem.”

  Drew had heard this all before. The story never changed, which only made him want to run away faster. It was a bad dynamic, but he didn’t know how to change it. His dad was the most stubborn person on the planet. Mom ran a close second. “I told you I’d help you with that.”

  “Now that you’ve had an interview, it’s too late.”

  “So why didn’t you agree to have me look for a replacement earlier?” Drew had offered to start a search several months ago when he’d applied to Atherton Fire and Rescue, but Dad would have none of it. He’d actually forbidden Drew to place an ad or interview anyone.

  Dad looked at the floor, then simply shrugged.

  Understanding dawned. “You were hoping the interview wouldn’t work out and that I’d be forced to stay.”

  “I’m only thinking of the business,” Dad said. “A business that has provided very well for our family, by the way.”

  But not for the past few years. The tanking economy had put Sellers Real Estate through the wringer lately. “I get that, Dad.” It probably didn’t help that Drew had chosen to leave Moonlight Cove right now, in the midst of the economic downturn. “But as a prospective firefighter with lots of competition, I’m not getting any younger.”

  He left out that he could only pretend to be happy hawking designer kitchens and updated bathrooms for so long. No sense in twisting the knife that much. Besides, his dad knew that working as a real estate agent had never been Drew’s first choice. Even if he acted as if Drew had decided to become a firefighter on a whim.

  “I’m not, either.” With sagging shoulders, Dad cast his gaze around. “Who’s going to take over my legacy when I want to retire?”

  Guilt prodded hard and sharp, and Drew winced inwardly. For just a moment, seeing the slump in his father’s broad shoulders did a number on Drew’s resolve to pursue his dream, no matter what the cost.

  Dad spoke again. “Why don’t you let me put out some feelers. Maybe you could find a job closer to Moonlight Cove and still work for me part-time.”

  Impatience tugged at Drew, hard. “Dad, none of the departments around here have any paid positions—”

  Drew’s cell phone rang, cutting him off. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the caller ID. Stacy Sullivan, calling with the last bit of information for their offer. “Dad, just a sec, I have to take this.” If anyone understood interrupting a conversation for a client, it was Dad. Business had often come at the expense of family when Drew had been growing up.

  He turned and had a brief conversation with Stacy, heading toward his office so he could write down the figure she gave him.

  He finished and pressed End, then went out to resume the conversation with his dad, even though he was tempted to run the other way out the back door down the hall. But what was the sense in running from the inevitable? Drew had been doing that for years, and it had to stop.

  But when he got out front, Dad was gone and the lights were off.

  And nothing but his last words remained, echoing in Drew’s mind in exactly the way he was sure Dad had intended—edged in disappointment and so much bitterness Drew wondered if their relationship would ever recover.

  *

  Ally moped around the Sellerses’ house for a couple of days, occupying herself with taking care of the dogs and not much else. Talk about boring.

  No surprise, then, that the walls of her room started to close in on her, and she decided that she was done with the “poor me” routine. Where would that attitude get her, anyway? It was time to move on. And that meant hauling herself up and figuring out where she would go from here. No one was going to fix her problems for her. Only she could do that.

  Besides, she was spending way too much time wondering if Drew was going to show up to visit his mom. She needed to be busy.

  So one afternoon, she ventured out, lured to the kitchen by the delicious smell of something baking. Rex and Sadie followed at her heels down the hall, their toenails clicking on the hardwood floors.

  Ally entered the updated gray-and-white kitchen and found an apron-clad Grace pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven. There was a myriad of mixing bowls on the counter, two open canisters sitting at the ready and a shiny stand mixer sprawled on the island next to lots of other baking ingredients.

  Ally’s stomach growled; looked as though her appetite had decided to make an appearance for the first time since the fire.

  Grace looked up. “Well, hello there.” She set the cookie sheet on a pot holder next to the sink. “I’m glad to see you up and about.”

  Mild guilt shot through Ally. “Sorry I’ve been so antisocial lately.” It had been all she could do to even show up for the meals Grace had so graciously provided.

  “No worries,” Grace replied with a soft smile. She slid another batch of cookies into the oven. “I know you needed time to regroup.”

  Ally appreciated Grace’s kindness and understanding. Not only had she taken Ally into her home, she’d rounded up some clothes from her and Phoebe’s closets for Ally to wear. Grace had also given Ally a basket of sample-size toiletries she and her husband had collected from hotels during their travels over the years. Grace was truly a blessing Ally would never forget.

  “I did. But I’m going stir-crazy.” Which had to explain why she was spending way too much time thinking about Grace’s handsome son. Yeah, that was it.

  “I knew you’d come out when you were ready.” Grace quirked an eyebrow. “And when you got hungry.”

  “Yeah, my appetite’s back,” Ally said as she moved farther into the kitchen.

  “I have some leftover stew from last night if you’d like me to heat some up in the microwave.”

  “You don’t have to wait on me,” Ally said. Grace had done enough as it was; Ally wasn’t going to impose any more than she already had. “Just point me in the right direction and I’ll fix it.”

  Grace did so, and soon Ally was sitting at the breakfast bar eating a bowl of the most delicious stew she’d ever tasted. Rex and Sadie curled up next to the sliding door, longingly looking out at the rain-soaked yard. Maybe a walk on the beach would be in order this afternoon.

  Grace looked up from the bowl she was stirring. “Listen, I know you’re looking for housecleaning work. My friend Myra Snow had back surgery last week and needs someone to clean her house for the next few months. Would you be interested?”

  Ally almost dropped her spoon. “Yes, I would, definitely.” She needed to be busy and she needed money. A job—even one—would be an answer to her prayers.

  “Good. I’ll give you her number when I’m done here and you can call her and set up a time to meet.”

  “Sounds great.” Honestly, Ally had never encountered such kindness before. She said a silent thank-you to God for bringing the Sellers family into her life.

  “And I’m sure if the job with Myra works out, you’ll get mor
e work,” Grace said as she looked in the oven. “I’ll warn you, she’s very picky, but if you can please Myra, you can please anyone, and her recommendation will be helpful.”

  “Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me. If not for you…well, Rex, Sadie and I would be out on the street.” Homeless again. Ally shuddered.

  “You’re welcome,” Grace replied with a kind smile that made Ally’s insides go mushy. For once, she liked the sensation.

  Feeling as if a bit of her load had been lifted off her shoulders, Ally’s appetite reappeared and she dug into her stew as Grace puttered around the kitchen.

  Ally noticed the cookies stacked high on the baker’s rack by the back door. “Wow. That’s a lot of cookies. Are you expecting an army for dessert?”

  Grace cracked an egg into the mixer bowl. “No. I’m making goodies for the annual church bake sale.” She added something from a little brown bottle to the bowl. “I’m going to freeze most of this, although Drew will complain if I don’t keep some of the chocolate chip cookies out for him.”

  “So he likes sweets?” Ally asked. Although why she was interested in Drew’s food preferences was anybody’s guess.

  “Does a dog like bacon?”

  Ally laughed.

  “Drew has a real sweet tooth. When he was a kid he used to beg me to make cookies.” Grace smiled wistfully. “I’d actually have to hide them in the freezer in the garage to keep them around for more than a few days.”

  “Did that work?”

  “For a long time. But he figured it out when he was in college and often checks the freezer for snacks when he comes over.”

  Ally stirred her stew. “I can’t remember the last time I had a homemade cookie.”

  Grace’s jaw sagged. “No.”

  “Yup.”

  “Didn’t your mom bake?”

  Ally’s back stiffened. “Um…no.” Her mother had been too busy scoring her next drug deal to have time to bake. Not that she’d tell Grace that….

  “Oh. That’s too bad.” Grace pulled a clean spatula from the ceramic holder on the counter. “I take it you don’t bake, either?”

  No one had ever taught her to bake or cook. That had always seemed like a job for a devoted mom rather than her own neglectful mother or the parade of harried foster moms who had floated in and out of Ally’s life.

  “Nope.” Ally took another bite of the savory stew to preclude having to explain the absence of any kind of positive parental influence in her life. That fact had always been hard for her to admit to anyone.

  “You want to learn?” Grace asked with a lift of her well-shaped auburn eyebrows. “I taught Drew to bake, so I’m experienced.”

  Ally quit chewing for a second, then swallowed, almost choking. No one had ever offered to help her in the kitchen before. “You’d teach me?”

  “Well, sure.” Grace moved closer and propped a hip against the counter opposite from where Ally sat. “I love to bake and cook, and teaching you would give me an excuse to whip up endless batches of treats that are bad for us.”

  Ally’s throat clogged up. It was silly, but having Grace offer to teach her to cook meant a lot. Too much, probably, but there it was, a testament to everything Ally had missed growing up. For that reason alone, she was going to take Grace up on her offer.

  She wiped her mouth. “I’d love that,” she said honestly.

  “Well, great,” Grace replied. “My special double-chocolate brownies are up next, so we’ll start with those as soon as you’re finished eating.”

  “Sounds good.” Amazingly so. Funny how such a simple thing could lift Ally’s spirits.

  Grace moved back over to the mixer. “Yes, it does. Especially since if we bake a lot, Drew will be hanging around more.” She popped the bowl into its spot and flipped the mixer down and then fiddled with it for a second and turned it on.

  Ally hadn’t thought of Drew being here more, and she wished she had; she might have given Grace a different answer. But it was too late to back out now without seeming silly.

  And without admitting she liked Drew way more than she should.

  Chapter Five

  Drew stopped at the freezer in Mom and Dad’s garage and dug around until he found a bag of frozen snickerdoodles. After he snagged two, he headed into the house.

  Mom had called yesterday to ask him to come over and take a look at her computer, which, in her words, was acting “ill with one of those virus thingies.” Dad could sell snow to Eskimos, but he didn’t have a technologically savvy bone in his body, so Drew had always worn the technical-support hat in the Sellers household.

  He hated to admit it, but he was glad he had an excuse to come see how Ally was doing. He’d been wondering about her—who wouldn’t be after such a traumatic event?—but he’d felt funny about making a trip over just to check on her. So he’d deliberately kept away. Until now.

  The second he came into the family room from the garage, the scent of fresh-baked cookies tantalized the dessert lover in him. Obviously, Mom had been baking up a storm. Maybe she’d let him lick the bowl, or, better yet, have some cookie dough.

  He stepped into the kitchen, only to stop in his tracks. Ally was in there with his mom, clad in one of her aprons, a denim number with the words Kiss the Cook on the front in bright red letters.

  Ally had flour on her cheek and on the front of the apron. Her brow was furrowed, and she looked cute as she worked on cracking an egg into the bowl of the stand mixer he’d given Mom last Christmas.

  For just a second, he had the crazy urge to follow the instructions on the apron and lay a big one on Ally. Luckily, he caught himself before he did something stupid.

  Mom looked up from where she stood by Ally’s side. “Ah. Drew.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Good to see you.”

  “I had some free time between clients.”

  “Wonderful.”

  He looked at Ally. “I see she’s already got her baker hooks in you.”

  Ally grinned. “Who could resist with all the yummy smells coming from this kitchen?”

  He moved closer, then stopped and glanced around. Sadie lay sleeping by the back door. “Where’s Rex?”

  “Out back chasing squirrels,” Ally said. “You can relax.”

  He continued on until he could see the brown batter in the mixing bowl. “Mom’s famous brownies?”

  “Yep,” Ally said, pursing her lips. “Although I doubt this batch will be famous except for maybe how many eggshells are in them.”

  He fought the urge to stare at her lips and bent down to peer into the bowl. “What happened?”

  His mom piped in. “Ally has never done any baking before, so I’ve been showing her the ropes, including how to crack an egg.”

  Interesting. Not that everybody was a good cook, or even a mediocre cook. But most adults knew how to crack an egg. Again, he found himself wondering about Ally’s background.

  “As you can see, I’m not a good student.” Ally frowned down at the bowl, then looked at Mom. “You think we should start over?”

  “Nah,” Mom replied with a wave of her hand. “We’ve already picked out most of the shells, so they’ll be fine.” She lifted up the bowl of dry ingredients and handed it to Ally. “Go ahead and put this in and mix ’er up. I’m going to get more flour out of the pantry.”

  Gingerly, Ally poured the flour into the bowl of wet ingredients, set the bowl down and then reached up to turn the gigantic stand mixer on.

  Only, she didn’t ease into the speed, and instead flipped the switch right to High. Drew stepped forward to stop her, but it was too late. As the beaters hit the flour, the air around her exploded with flour dust and, seconds later, globs of brown batter, which flew out and splattered her face and the front of her apron.

  Ally squawked and flailed her hands at the mixer, but missed the speed switch. Quickly, Drew rounded the counter and made a grab for the switch on Ally’s far side, trapping her between him and the counter. But the stand mixer was new and di
fferent from the hand mixer he’d grown up using when he baked with his mom, and he fumbled along the side of the machine, looking for the off switch through the dust and brownie goo kicking up from the bowl.

  Ally let out a little shriek and pushed back against him. Being so close to her distracted him for a second and he froze as sparks sizzled. Then, finally his fingers found the lever and he pushed it right, and when nothing happened, shoved it left. The mixer ground to a halt.

  After a moment of silence, Ally sagged back against his chest, shaking, her hands pressed to her face.

  He grabbed her and turned her around. Was she hurt? “What’s wrong?”

  Still shaking, she dropped her hands from her batter-speckled face. And she was laughing, her shoulders shaking with every chuckle.

  He wrapped his hands around her upper arms as relief spread through him. “I thought the mixer had somehow hurt you,” he said.

  She laughed harder, until her eyes watered. “I can see the headline now. Rogue Mixer Explodes, Hurting Two with Airborne Brownie Mix.”

  The picture her words painted hit his funny bone dead-on. He started guffawing right along with her. Somehow his arms went around her, and hers went up to his shoulders as they laughed and laughed and laughed.

  Until his eyes met hers and caught, held…

  And suddenly he wasn’t laughing anymore. Because he was way too close and he was busy falling into her leaf-colored gaze.

  Wondering how he was ever going to find his way out.

  Or if he even wanted to.

  *

  Unable to tear her eyes away, Ally stared at Drew, frozen, her heart running faster than Rex did when he chased a tennis ball. Thank goodness she wasn’t panting.

  Drew’s hands tightened on her upper arms, sending tingles through her, and pulled ever so slightly—

  “Ahem.”

  Her face heating, Ally jumped back, whipping her head right.

  Grace stood in the entryway to the kitchen, smirking. “I hate to break this little party up.” After a significant look that made Ally want to squirm, Grace held up a bag. “But I have the flour.”

  Drew cleared his throat and backed away from Ally. “Great.”