Table of Contents
Title Page
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
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a sweet romantic comedy
Sign up for the Brenna Jacobs Newsletter
for release info on her new series,
The ABCs of Love
Released titles include:
Falling for her Foe: A is for Author
Besting the Undercover Boss: B is for Billionaire
Catching her Cowboy Crush: C is for Cowboy
Dreaming of the Next Door Doc: D is for Doctor
Embracing her Ever After: E is for Engineer
Falling for a Former Flame: F is for Firefighter
Gambling on a Modern-Day Gentleman: G is for Gentleman
Chapter 1
Fletcher Gates left the fire chief’s office and pulled the door closed behind him. He tried not to notice the sigh of relief that escaped him, but to tell the truth, this had been the most intimidating job interview of his career. Not because he was afraid that he wouldn’t be offered the job; on the contrary, he was more afraid he’d get it and not live up to his reputation, or his father’s reputation. He looked around the empty hallway, grateful to see that no one had heard him. He knew that in an alpha-male place like a fire station, even a sigh could be seen as a sign of weakness.
But Fletcher was not weak, and he was no rookie just out of fire school. He’d been a successful Bureau of Land Management firefighter for five years, working as a smokejumper on some of the most devastating wildfires in the country. And now he’d earned a place on Greensburg’s crew—by his own merit and through his own good work. Even so, coming back to his hometown to join the city station left him feeling more anxious than any burning mountainside.
He didn’t like to think too deeply about the sources of that anxiety. He was sure he wouldn’t like to confront certain aspects of his past life here, that was all.
He stood in the hallway for a moment, settling into his new reality. He had been offered a new job. A great job. Possibly his dream job. More quickly than he could have imagined, everything had clicked together and now this was his life.
Confident that it was precisely what he both wanted and needed, Fletcher wondered at the prickle of unease.
Maybe it was as simple as coming back home.
Or as complicated as finding a place in an established brotherhood like this fire station.
It didn’t help that the chief had been his father’s coworker for many years, and almost certainly looked at Fletcher as a kid.
Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? Fletcher had spent so many hours on the station lawn and in the rec room throwing baseballs and footballs with his dad, he’d practically grown up as the station mascot.
Right. That was it. It must be. He wanted to be seen as a man, not as a kid. And now he would be. His concern had nothing to do with anything else—or anyone else he might encounter now that he was back in town.
Fletcher wandered down the short hallway and back to the small reception desk, a new installment since the days his dad had worked at the station. A pretty, dark-haired woman held a phone to her ear with her shoulder while typing rapidly and, somehow, simultaneously flipping through a stack of papers. She caught his eye and gestured toward a chair.
Before he could sit, though, he saw a giant pile of bags and boxes moving toward the glass front door, completely obscuring all but the legs of the person carrying them. He reached the door and pushed it open at the exact second that the woman holding the huge pile leaned it all against the door to reach for the handle. At his push, the door knocked into the parcels, and everything, including the woman, sailed in a comical arc before it all went crashing to the ground.
Blankets, books, and stuffed animals tumbled out of the tops of bags, covering the now-sitting woman right up to her unmistakable crazy, red curls.
Without thinking, Fletcher said, “Hadley?”
He felt every thump of his pulse, the nerves prickling at the back of his hands and neck, the unique rush of breath in his lungs and blood to his brain that he had always felt in her presence, that always left him deliciously off balance.
The woman on the floor pushed the top of the pile away from her so she could look up.
Fletcher’s breath caught at the sight of her face, that moment between surprise at being knocked to the ground and surprise at seeing him.
Thinking she’d burst out laughing any second, he watched and waited for her to go first, because he certainly wasn’t the kind of guy who would knock a person over and then laugh at her. But for years, he’d laughed with her. He had known her long enough and well enough to know that her instinct was to chuckle at a situation like this, but she didn’t. Looked like in seven years her instincts had changed.
Not only did she not laugh, her smile evaporated as soon as she caught his eye. Watching her face grow from merely annoyed to fully disgusted took only seconds, but in those few seconds, Fletcher relived the end of their four-year relationship. He felt again every contributing reason they’d ended.
Hadley scowled at him. “Fletcher Gates. Every time I see you, you’re dumping me.”
Fletcher was sure his mouth hung open. There was literally no way to respond to that, besides the obvious denying it was even true. Because it was certainly not true.
He reached down to help her from the floor. All the packages that had landed on and around her as she fell tumbled across the sidewalk, spilling teddy bears and fuzzy blankets to unlikely distances. This woman did nothing by halves.
She didn’t take his hands. She didn’t reach for his outstretched arms. She shoved the remaining packages off of her lap and tried to push herself up without his help. Typical.
It didn’t take her long to decide that she’d maintain more dignity if she just took his hands and let him help her up. With a sigh of what sounded like resignation, she held her hands out to him.
Grasping both her arms, he pulled her off the ground. His fingers tightened around her arms, muscle memory igniting. Every reflex told him to keep pulling her all the way into an embrace, but her stiffness reminded him that it wasn’t his right anymore. He made do with placing his hand on her back to assure them both that she was stable on her feet. Not because he particularly wanted to remember the feeling of his hand on her back. Politeness, that was all; at least that’s what he needed to convince himself to feel now.
Taking a step away from him, she smoothed her sweater and put her fists on her hips. She looked him up and down as though she was inspecting something that didn’t pass muster. “Huh. So it’s true. You’re back.”
It’s true? She’d heard? He wondered who had told her. Preparation did not seem to have made this encounter any more pleasant for her. She could not have sounded less glad to see him. Her glare cut into him. Fletcher had no idea how he was supposed to reply to her comment. How, he wondered, could a woman half his size be so scary?
Years of practice, he reminded himself. Years of practice.
He knew that within a few
hours, he’d be feeling as repelled by the thought of her as she was currently at the sight of him. When he took some time to consider their history, he’d not only remember all the reasons they’d ended, but also feel the leftover anger and resentment and sadness. No matter what the surprise of seeing her did to his pulse, they were simply wrong together, whether “together” meant in a relationship or simply in the same room.
So why couldn’t he take his eyes off her?
Maybe it was her hair. He’d always loved her careless, messy red hair, which was currently pulled up in a pile on top of her head that may have taken hours to curate, or no time at all. She had always been a mystery like that.
Or maybe it was the green sweater she had on. The way it brought out the color of her eyes…
What was he thinking? He shook his head. She started haphazardly repacking things into bags and boxes.
He recognized that although she hadn’t directly asked him a question, she had spoken last, and nobody could accuse him of not being a gentleman. “Yeah. I’m back.” He propped the door open with his foot and gathered spilled picture books into a nearby box.
There was more he should say, he knew. Good to see you? She wouldn’t buy it, and he wasn’t sure even he believed it. She sure looked good, but this moment couldn’t be much more awkward. Have you seen my mom? No. She would have mentioned it. Glad you’re still in town? He wasn’t sure how true that even was. So he left his completely obvious and unnecessary statement hanging there between them.
The dark-haired woman left the reception desk and pushed past Fletcher. She knelt beside Hadley on the sidewalk and helped shove things back into boxes.
The two women shared one of those looks that communicates things men can’t register, and Fletcher picked up some refilled boxes and set them inside the door. Ignoring both the whispers and the sounds of disdain passing between them, he picked up bags and boxes they passed him until everything that had somehow once been in Hadley’s arms was now inside the station.
“Anything else?” Fletcher asked.
Something snapped in Hadley’s eyes, that fire of independence that Fletcher had once loved. “If there was, I could get it,” she said, but then softened her tone. “But this is all of it.”
The dark-haired woman put an arm over Hadley’s shoulders. “This is incredible,” she said. “You gathered all of this in a week?”
Hadley shrugged, her head tilting to the side. That particular expression, he knew, meant that she would like to imply that it was nothing, even though she was really proud of what she’d done.
Hadley added a small, dismissive gesture with her hand. “I put up a sign in the shop, and I offered a trade for kids’ books.”
So, she’d done it, Fletcher thought. She’d always wanted to work in a bookstore, and it sounded like now she did. He wondered which shop in town had hired her. He was hovering on the balance between hoping he might wander into the right one and hoping he never accidentally entered the right one when the dark-haired woman turned to face him.
“Is there something you need?” The words were benign, but the hostility of her tone was unambiguous.
Professional, Fletcher thought to himself. I’m a professional. “Are you Samantha? I’m supposed to fill out some forms with Samantha.”
She shot him a withering look. “Savanna.”
“Right. Sorry.” He was striking out all over the place.
Giving barely a nod, Savanna said, “You’re hired, huh?”
Fletcher wondered if this was the welcome every new employee could expect. He caught the eye roll she sent Hadley’s way.
Savanna picked up an iPad from the reception desk. “There are three tabs open here. Fill out the information correctly and completely. It’s a hassle to fix it later.” Her unfriendly tone suggested it would be a hassle for her, and since she seemed to be some kind of secretary or receptionist or liaison here, he knew it would be a terrible idea to get any further on her bad side.
As she handed him the iPad, she smiled insincerely and said, “Welcome to the team.”
“Right. Thanks.” Hoping to repair a bit of the damage his first impression had caused, he smiled, but both the women already had their backs to him. As he sat on the chair answering security questions and filling out his contact information, Hadley and Savanna knelt a few feet away sorting the items she’d carried in and ignoring him.
Every time Hadley laughed, he fought the urge to cross the room and hug her. After all this time, he still loved her laugh, how it rumbled up from her throat, much lower and deeper than her speaking voice, and the way it combined with that maddening, gorgeous sparkle in her eyes. It had been years since he’d been responsible for making her laugh like that.
Enough, he thought. Employment history. Not romantic history.
Every time she turned to face Savanna, he had a perfect view of Hadley’s profile, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose, that dimple, her perfect teeth.
Stop it, he told himself again. Focus on insurance forms.
When the forms asked for family medical history, he could finally give his full attention to the task at hand. He had little choice.
Has any member of your immediate family been diagnosed with or treated for any of the following? There were too many checked boxes for Fletcher’s comfort, when he factored in his father’s cancer, heart disease, and far-too-early death. And then there was his mom’s kidney disease. Just clicking the boxes made him feel tired.
But this was the reason he was here. His mom had handled her widowhood with grace, continuing her work as an assistant in the same orthodontist’s office where Fletcher had gotten braces. But in the past few months, her health had begun to decline. She was far too young to retire from work, but she confessed to Fletcher that the job was simply too hard on her body.
There had been no wrestling with options. He was needed, so he came home. Hadley, who had always adored his mom, could not possibly have heard that she was ill, or she would have defrosted enough to ask him about her.
It didn’t surprise Fletcher that his mom had kept her failing health a secret. Greensburg was small enough, insular enough that people watched out for each other, and Rose Gates had spent all her life delivering meals, offering service, and organizing assistance for other people. She was unlikely to welcome any such help for herself.
Fletcher clicked the last “accept” button on the last form and got up from his chair. At the same time, both Hadley and Savanna stood and brushed off the dust and lint from their pants.
“I’m through with this,” he said, handing the iPad back to Savanna. “Anything I can help you with?” He gestured to the piles of toys, refolded blankets, and stacks of books. Hadley didn’t even glance his way.
“Soon enough, eager fireman.” Savanna smirked at him. “For now, you can get yourself acquainted with the station.” She didn’t offer anything further, so Fletcher nodded and walked through the door to the apparatus bay.
As much as the updates and renovations had created more space and new amenities, it still felt like the same fire station he’d known all his life.
The soaring ceilings of the engine bays may have seemed taller when he was a kid, but the majesty and power of the trucks capable of carrying a dozen men to an emergency and restoring order and safety? That was exactly as he remembered it.
His experiences with BLM, though fascinating and significant, had lacked some of the magic of his childhood adoration and admiration for the machinery, the systems, and the trappings of the city fire station. Walking through the door, he saw that one of the engines was pulled out and the men were washing it, squirting each other with jets of water, shouting and laughing. It made him remember some of what he’d witnessed as his dad had taken part in days like this.
Now the job, the experience, the opportunity, were his.
Fletcher walked onto the blacktop, and someone saw him and hollered. “Gates? That you?”
Fletcher raised his arm in a wave and Wayn
e Redman, who had worked at the station for years, jogged over. “Red” had been a trainee of his dad’s, and something of an uncle figure to Fletcher.
Red wrapped him in a hug and slapped his back so hard he practically winded him. Fletcher laughed.
“Chief told us that unless you walked in and spit on his desk, he’d be offering you a place on the crew today. Man, it’s good to have you here.”
Red, unusually tender for a seasoned firefighter, placed both hands on Fletcher’s shoulders and gazed at him, possibly looking for a reminder of Paul Gates’s face in his son. Whether he found it or not, he pulled Fletcher to him in another crushing hug and called over the other men.
“Guys, some of you knew Paul Gates. This is his boy, Fletcher.” Heads nodded, and a few of the men came over to shake his hand.
A firefighter probably Fletcher’s age smiled and held out his hand. “Nick Baxter,” he said by way of introduction. He looked like a solid guy, confident and capable.
“Hi,” Fletcher said, grateful that there were guys on the team his age. He wouldn’t be required to prove that he was an adult every minute of every day if they were already used to younger crew members.
“I hear you’ve been…” Nick began, but the opening of a door distracted him, and he dropped Fletcher’s hand. In a matter of seconds, his confident and capable look fled, and his eyes seemed to go unfocused. What Fletcher could only describe as a dorky grin spread over Nick’s face, and Fletcher looked to see what had sidetracked Nick.
Hadley, followed by the angry Savanna woman, came through the door, waved to the crew, and told them she’d brought her first box of donations for something called “Greensburg Cares for Kids.”
“I’m sure there’s lots more coming,” Hadley said. “Get ready.”
Nick murmured under his breath, “Ready and waiting.” He turned to Fletcher and continued to whisper. “That’s Savanna Deveraux. And that’s Hadley Booth.” Looking from one of them to the other, Nick said, “I swear, that woman could ask me for anything, and I’d make it happen.”
If it was odd to have a stranger telling him who Hadley was, that was nothing to the weirdness of instantly knowing, without a doubt, that Nick was crazy about her. Not that he could blame him.
Falling for a Former Flame: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love) Page 1
