The Firefighter's Christmas Reunion

by Christy Jeffries

  “Looks like Elaine still can’t hold her wine,” Hannah said, nodding toward the dance floor where the woman was doing a very bad impression of a trout trying to swim upstream. “Not that I should talk, but I’m pretty sure everyone’s going to need some food soon to absorb all the booze.”

  “Keep in mind that Cessy and Freckles organized this event,” Isaac offered, actually pleased that Hannah was finally starting to relax and make cordial conversation with him. “They’re probably going to try to sell as many raffle tickets as they can before they serve dinner. The more people have to drink, the freer they are with their wallets.”

  “Was my brother drinking when he bid on you?” Her tone was playful, but her direct gaze put Isaac on edge.

  “Not as far as I could tell. But then again, I didn’t even know he was there, let alone what he was doing until Freckles yelled sold.”

  “Don’t worry,” Hannah said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m not going to hold you responsible for what he did.”

  Isaac wanted to ask her why she was holding him responsible for everything else. However, in the interest of not steering them down the path of painful memories, he bit his tongue.

  “But I am curious to know how much he paid for you to sit here with me.”

  “Nobody had to pay me to sit here with you,” Isaac said, surprising himself with the honest admission.

  “Obviously the money wasn’t for you. It went to charity and all that.” And a new brush truck for his department since they’d beat out the police officers for total amount of bids.

  “No, Hannah. I mean, nobody had to pay any money to anyone. I would’ve gladly sat here with you if you would’ve just asked.”

  “Yeah, right.” She made a sputter that could’ve been a hiccup, then lowered her eyes as she played with the stem of her empty glass. “Except I would’ve had too much pride to ever ask.”

  “I know,” he agreed. Her pride and her determination were the things that had first attracted Isaac to her. And her refusal to come clean with him after the night of the bonfire had been their downfall. “That’s why your brother paid all that money. In the hopes that we’d get on speaking terms again.”

  “Which brings me back to my original question.” Hannah looked up and her clear blue gaze sent a ripple down his spine. “How much?”

  Isaac finished off the rest of his beer and jiggled the empty bottle. “If we’re going to talk about this, I’m going to need a little more liquid courage. Want one?”

  “Fine.” Her metal folding chair screeched against the hardwood floor as she scooted back. It didn’t help that the song had just ended so everyone within a hundred-foot radius heard the sound and turned in their direction as they made their way to the bar.

  Thankfully there was no line and he was able to order their drinks instead of gawking like a schoolboy at her long, bare legs.

  “I really wish people would stop staring at us,” Hannah yelled into his ear when the music resumed. “It’s as if they think we’re about to go into a UFC cage fight at any second and spar to the death.”

  “It’d help if you weren’t shooting daggers at me every time we see each other around town,” Isaac replied.

  “I’m not shooting daggers!” Hannah huffed, drawing his attention to the V-neck of her dress. “I’m indifferent. Besides, what about the way you’re always staring at me?”

  Isaac smiled. “If you were really indifferent, you wouldn’t notice me staring at you at all.”

  She returned his smile and a throb of awareness raced through him. “So, you admit that you’ve been staring at me?”

  “I’ll freely admit that I stare at you, Hannah Gregson. You’re still the prettiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  For the first time he could remember, he’d shocked Hannah into silence. Her glass of wine was halfway to her parted pink lips and her head was tilted to one side. The confusion marring her normally smooth brow would’ve been comical if he hadn’t been so aware of how close she was or how her perfume smelled like the wild jasmine growing on the side of Jonesy’s log house.

  Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t have admitted that he was still attracted to her if he’d been in his right mind. But the band was playing that slow song from Top Gun and Isaac had always been a sucker for military movies. He reached out and drew her hand toward him. “Come on and dance with me.”

  Both of her perfectly arched brows lifted. “Since when do you like dancing, Isaac Jones?”

  “Since twenty seconds ago when you finally smiled at me.”

  “Fine,” Hannah said for the second time, her face flushing slightly, and he didn’t waste a minute leading her toward the crowded dance floor. On the way, he paused only long enough to take her glass and set it down on an empty table next to his full bottle of beer. The second his boots hit the parquet floor, he turned to pull her into his arms.

  It was like coming home, the way her body pressed up against his. Her hands were stiff on his shoulders for the first few beats, then gently eased behind his neck. She didn’t pull back when he allowed his own palms to slide to the spot just below her waist. He used his thumb to stroke her lower spine. Isaac dipped his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I remember when your hair was so long, it reached all the way down to here.”

  Because their faces were so close, he couldn’t see her response. But if she recalled that the only time she’d let her hair loose in front of him was the night they’d made love, then he could well imagine the blush that was likely staining her cheeks right that second.

  Unfortunately, that was also the exact second that Uncle Jonesy danced Mae Johnston, the mayor’s wife, near them and the older woman patted Hannah’s shoulder and said, “Now that the two of you are finally getting along, can I count on you both to head up the Thanksgiving canned food drive this year?”

  Hannah’s head only moved an inch or two away from Isaac, but fortunately her body didn’t stop swaying when she replied. “Well, you know that you can always count on me, Mrs. Johnston.”

  “That’s what I figured. How about you, Chief? Three years ago when Hannah led the charge, we brought in enough groceries to feed fifty local families. I’m sure if you co-chair the event with her, we could raise almost double that amount.”

  Isaac didn’t take his eyes off Hannah’s face when he replied, “I’m game if she is.”

  Her chin dipped down as she shyly grinned and his heart lifted. He couldn’t believe it. Not only were they getting along, they’d also just agreed to work together.

  “Good for you two.” Mrs. Johnston’s tight gray curls didn’t so much as wobble as she nodded her head vigorously. The woman was obviously so pleased with herself for recruiting them, she didn’t even bother to lower her voice when she added, “If you ask me, getting you guys back together was probably the best eight hundred dollars Luke Gregson ever spent.”

  And just like that, alarms went off in Isaac’s brain, but it was too late. Hannah’s body went completely still and all the warmth left her eyes. Her hands dropped from his neck to her hips and her voice was no longer playful.

  “Eight hundred dollars?”

  Hannah was still reeling from the shock of how much money Luke had bid in order to make Isaac act civilly to her. She was also still reeling from how close she’d let the man get to her at the VFW dance. One minute, they couldn’t even look at each other. The next, they were slow dancing and she’d practically plastered her body against his.

  She groaned as she sank into one of the blue plastic chairs at the U-shaped table in the back of her empty classroom the following Monday morning. It had been two days and Hannah could still feel the hard ridges of his chest muscles against her breasts.

  Stop, she commanded herself. You’re letting yourself get all goo-goo over Isaac Jones again.

  It wasn’t like it was Isaac’s fault that Luke had spent a fort
une to try and make them get along. But the whole thing had left her feeling as if the joke was on her and all she’d wanted was to get the hell out of there. Luckily, dinner had been served directly after the song—as well as the short-lived truce—ended, and Hannah was able to make her goodbyes and get home to Sammy before the dancing resumed. Too bad she hadn’t left before Mae Johnston had suckered her into heading up this canned food drive with Isaac.

  In fact, Mrs. Johnston hadn’t even waited twenty-four hours before sending both Hannah and Isaac a text reminding them of their commitment and suggesting they meet that week to strategize. Hannah had ignored the message, but now it was Monday morning and her class was out to recess. She needed to get this over with.

  Forcing herself to her feet, she walked over to her desk. When she pulled her phone out of the center drawer, Hannah frowned at the notification of a new text message in a separate thread.

  There was no name, because it wasn’t from someone in her contacts. But she was pretty sure she recognized the number from the text Mrs. Johnston had sent the previous night. She opened up the message and saw the smiling face of her son sitting in the fire engine. Underneath the picture was the typed message, Looks like I got your phone number after all.

  Yep, it was Isaac. Hannah’s tummy did a little flip and her fingers twitched over the electronic keyboard as she pondered how she should reply. She couldn’t very well ignore him. But she also didn’t think it was a good idea for them to become texting buddies. She couldn’t trust herself on a very public dance floor with the man when there was an audience watching them. How was she going to trust herself in a private conversation where she could hide her physical response behind a screen?

  No. Letting her guard down around him was way too dangerous for her own peace of mind. Two nights ago, all it had taken was a couple of glasses of wine and a compliment and she was practically putty in his hands again.

  Resolved to put some distance between them without sounding like she was avoiding him, she opted for a polite reply.

  Thank you for the picture. Sammy will love it. She pushed Send, then tried to be as businesslike as possible with a follow-up message to let him know where they stood.

  Thank you for volunteering to help with the food drive. I’m sure you’re busy and I’m more than happy to handle it on my own so you can feel free to bow out gracefully.

  She was about to switch her phone off when she saw a bubble appear on the screen, indicating that he was typing a response. Hannah glanced at the clock on the wall above her whiteboard. She still had ten minutes until the bell rang, so she tried to grade Elsa Folsom’s makeup book report instead of staring anxiously at her phone. But she couldn’t get past the title, How to Train Your Dragon.

  When her phone finally vibrated, so did her heart.

  Until she saw what he’d written.

  Afraid that it’s too late, no matter how graceful I am. Mrs. Johnston was in the fire station first thing this morning to make sure I hadn’t forgotten. But if you aren’t comfortable with us being on the same committee, I totally understand if you want to back out.

  Was he issuing some sort of challenge? Like he didn’t think she would be willing to work with him? This time, her fingers flew over the keypad.

  Seriously, I could organize a canned food drive in my sleep. I really don’t need your help. I’m sure your volunteer efforts would be better served on a different project. I hear the library is trying to raise funds for a new teen room...

  Nice try, Gregson. But I already made a commitment. Besides, I don’t mind doing both the food drive and the library thing if it’s too much for you.

  A blast of air rushed out of Hannah’s nostrils, causing them to flare. Why was she suddenly feeling like the fire-breathing dragon in the picture on the cover of Elsa’s book report? Because she was not going to work with Isaac Jones, no matter how good the cause.

  But instead of telling him as much, she typed, It’s not too much for me.

  Good. We should probably meet soon to go over strategies and job assignments.

  Hannah set the phone down and stepped away from her desk to force herself to think. Needing something else to do besides stare at the screen, she rewrapped the bun on top of her head, pulling a little tighter than normal and jabbing a dull pencil into her hair to secure it in place. She was the one who should be suggesting the meeting. His saying it first made it seem like he was taking command. And there was no way she was taking a back seat to him.

  Her fingers tapped on the letters furiously. We can meet later today.

  There. Now she was calling the shots.

  Where? he asked.

  As she looked around her classroom, she thought why not? It was her turf and it was a semipublic place, which meant that everyone from town wouldn’t be watching them, but there would still be the potential for other teachers to stop by, so they weren’t completely alone, either. At the school. 3:00.

  School was over at 2:30, so that would give her a thirty-minute window to run to the restroom, fix her hair and maybe find an old tube of lip gloss somewhere in her purse. If not, Nurse Dunn always had an arsenal of lipstick colors she wore and probably wouldn’t mind loaning...

  No! She was not going to primp or otherwise get ready to see Isaac. Or any man, for that matter.

  The bell rang right as her phone buzzed with his response.

  I’ll still be on duty then and our monthly training class for volunteers won’t wrap up until 3. Bring Sammy over to the station after school and we can talk here.

  There? To the fire station? Not that she could blame the guy for not wanting to come to the school again. Last time he was there, she’d dumped an entire cup of red Gatorade down the front of his shirt, which would’ve been funny if she hadn’t been so mad at Elaine and Marcia at the time.

  But then he’d pulled her into that tight hug and made that comment about her owing him ice cream still.

  Her smirk faded as a spiral of unease wound its way through her belly. It was pretty ballsy of him to tell her to come to his place of employment. And then order her to bring her son with her? The guy had a lot of nerve.

  Her students trickled into the classroom and Hannah was prevented from writing back an excuse. But oh, man, were there plenty of things she would’ve liked to say to him about his high-handed ways. As soon as she had more time, she knew exactly what she would reply.

  Unfortunately, there was a surprise visit from the district superintendent at lunch to give the annoying PTA secretary—the woman who’d warned Elaine to stop talking when Hannah approached them at the jog-a-thon—an award for best kiss-up or number one henchman or some such nonsense.

  Then Hannah’s class had to go to the computer lab and learn about a new math program online, but none of the kids could figure out how to log on because their passwords and usernames had gotten transposed. Later, Elsa Folsom had to give a presentation on her book report and, because the other kids had already done theirs when she was absent, the girl was way too nervous to speak in front of the class.

  Hannah spent at least fifteen minutes trying to coax Elsa out from where she’d hidden in the coatroom. Hannah was already way off her schedule the last hour of the day when the art teacher showed up unannounced with a slew of messy colored chalk that got all over the desks and carpets.

  She’d ended up being far too busy to reply to Isaac, which was probably for the best, because by the time all her students were out the door, Hannah had convinced herself that Sammy would love going to the fire station. Plus, her son would be the perfect buffer to keep her from getting too irrational in front of Isaac.

  After all, if she was going to have to be on his turf, she might as well take reinforcements.

  Chapter Eight

  As it turned out, Hannah took four reinforcements to the fire station that afternoon. Luke had called her to say he was running late and asked
if she could bring Aiden and Caden home from school that day. She had just agreed when Carmen had called and said that Luke had forgotten Choogie Nguyen, the twins’ best friend, was supposed to be coming to their house, as well.

  She’d never had Choogie in one of her classes, but she knew the boy was in the gifted program. To say that he was a talkative kid was an extreme understatement. The current noise level in her car was deafening, as all of the children talked about their favorite Pokemon characters and gave a detailed, catalogued inventory of every single YouTube video they’d ever seen.

  Well, all of the children except Sammy. Her son sat in the middle of the back seat, eyes wide open and lips firmly shut as he absorbed everything his cousins and their friend were saying. Sammy was younger and still somewhat shy in group situations and, in his typical fashion, he stayed quiet and observed everything he could about the children around him. Hannah hoped that pretty soon he would feel comfortable enough to participate.

  “Did they have Pokemon where you came from?” Choogie was fully turned around in the front seat, his seat belt stretched out as he spoke to Sammy.

  Hannah held her breath, trying to catch her son’s gaze in the rearview mirror. She remembered another teacher complaining that Choogie was a handful in class, one of those children who was way smarter than everyone else and got bored easily. But she couldn’t recall hearing anything about whether or not he was a mean-spirited kid. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the steering wheel and waited to intervene if the conversation took an insulting turn.