Love Inspired June 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Patricia Johns

  “You’re very pretty for a food snob.”

  Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she blushed. He thinks I’m pretty? Maddox slurped his shake from his booster seat. Soufflé meowed from the back.

  One-handing the wheel, Will bit into a french fry. “You can rain check me on the home-cooked dinner.”

  “The rain checks are starting to pile up.”

  He flicked his eyes at her. “No worries. I aim to collect on each and every one.”

  She felt hot, then cold. And finally, just right.

  He carried the crate with Soufflé into her house. The tabby had taken the truck ride and shopping expedition in stride. She took Dr. Abernathy’s suggestion regarding a bath to heart. With Maddox and Will’s help, it went better than she’d expected.

  Back inside the crate with his fur returned to its original cream luster, Soufflé calmly contemplated his new domain.

  Will gathered his son into his arms. “Let me check with Pops first, but we’ll work out a time for Maddox to look in on Soufflé tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.”

  With his child visibly wilting from fatigue, Will bid her good-night.

  She watched out the window until his red taillights disappeared out of sight around the corner. It had been a very good day. Sunday service with Glorieta. And time spent with a certain handsome fire chief and his adorable son.

  After his surprising disclosure about Maddox’s mother, somehow she felt they’d moved from acquaintances to something more.

  “We’re just friends,” she told Soufflé as she got into bed that night.

  Inside the crate on the floor, the tabby’s green eyes did a slow blink.

  “Which is entirely as it should be.” She flopped against the pillow. “Because I have a restaurant to run, and he needs to save his job.”

  Soufflé yawned, his jaws stretching wide.

  “No, seriously.” She switched off the bedside lamp. “We’re nothing more than friends.”

  It was only just before she drifted to sleep, she remembered Will had called her darlin’.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Will lay awake half the night sifting through Kara’s reaction to his revelation about his ex-wife.

  Sometimes he felt like such a failure in the relationship department. Yet, there’d been no condemnation in her eyes, only empathy. And something else he wasn’t ready to put a name to, but which teased at the fringes of his mind all night.

  Over the next several days Maddox and Pops worked out a system with Kara to check on Soufflé during the day while she was at the diner. Will got into the habit of taking a coffee break midafternoon just before she closed the restaurant each day.

  Glorieta introduced herself to him. It was only later, after a word with ErmaJean, that he realized Kara’s foster mom was also the Glorieta Ferguson of Mama G restaurant fame.

  The barbecue queen watched as Kara presented a slice of birthday cake topped with a lit candle to Mrs. Desmond, who lived near Miss IdaLee. “That girl of mine gives her love by feeding people.”

  He pretended not to notice the lonely widow had her Chihuahua tucked into her leather tote.

  “Kara’s waving me over. I’d best go say hello.” Glorieta climbed off the adjacent stool. “We may not look a lot alike on the outside, but inside, our hearts look the same.”

  He enjoyed watching the dynamic between Kara and her foster mom. Glorieta could be a real firecracker at times. He could readily see where the petite chef got her sass and her spark.

  Most of all, he enjoyed getting to know Kara better. They were opposites in many areas, but not so much in the things that really mattered like their commitment to family.

  Of course, Maddox had been head over heels smitten since the beginning. And Pops wasn’t far behind in his praise of Kara. Will noticed his father was spending a lot of time at the diner these days.

  He wasn’t sure if the draw was Kara, the food or perhaps her foster mom. More afternoons than not, he’d arrive to find his dad and the inimitable barbecue queen in the corner booth swapping I-remember-when stories and chuckling.

  Will spent the majority of his week prepping for the all-important council meeting, whose main agenda item was the proposed closure of the Truelove firehouse. His crew was anxious about the outcome. So was he.

  Thursday morning outside the town hall, he waited for Truelove’s chief of police, Bridger Hollingsworth, to join him before heading inside to face the council.

  Ambling over from the police station, Bridger threw up his hand when he spotted Will on the sidewalk. They were about the same age, and since they’d both taken their current positions about the same time a year ago, had become friends.

  Their jobs made them both serious by nature. They were both dedicated to public service. And they both had sons.

  Bridger’s three-year-old twins, Austin and Logan, were Maddox’s best friends. But there the similarities ended. The police chief was happily married to Maggie, a fitness instructor at the rec center. Whereas Will was not-so-happily single.

  Whoa. Since when had he become unhappy about his singleness? He had a sneaking suspicion it was about the time he met Kara.

  He extended his hand to Bridger. “Thanks for coming today. Your support could convince some of the council members to reconsider closing the station.”

  An imposing man with dark hair and intense blue eyes, Bridger shook his hand. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be. In the current economic climate, I understand the need for budget cuts, but I can’t believe the council is proposing to entirely dismantle the TFD.”

  Will held the door as they entered the lobby. “With the larger county fire station, many of the council members see it as a way to reduce what they perceive as a redundancy of services.”

  Bridger removed his head cover. “They don’t realize that the loss of the station will make for longer response times. And put lives at risk.”

  Skipping the elevator, they took the winding marble steps to the second floor council chamber.

  Will paused at the top of the stairs. “How’s the class going? Maggie okay?”

  Currently, Bridger and Maggie were co-teaching a self-defense class, a subject near and dear to their hearts, to the women of Truelove. Years earlier Maggie had survived a traumatic assault. But it had left emotional scars.

  At the mention of his wife, Bridger’s face lit up. “The class is going well. An important part of the healing process for her. And thanks for asking. She’s good. We’re good.” The police chief grinned. “Better than good. We’re great.”

  For the first time since Liz walked away, Will wanted that, too, for himself. However, until just this moment, he hadn’t believed it possible that he could move past the bitterness. Until he met Kara?

  The meeting lasted over two hours. With the members unable to reach a consensus and with the session becoming increasingly heated, Mayor Watson called for an adjournment. He proposed to table the discussion until the next meeting in one week’s time.

  Outside again, Will and Bridger parted company.

  “Don’t give up yet. We’ve plenty more fight left in us.” Bridger touched his shoulder. “I hear Maddox is spending the morning with Austin and Logan.”

  “He loves the three-year-old ninja warrior class that Maggie teaches. He’s also looking forward to their lunch playdate afterward.” Will sighed. “I never wanted him to grow up an only child like me. Just one more thing to feel guilty about.”

  “Maddox is a great kid.” Bridger rested his hands on his gun belt. “And who’s to say he’ll always be an only child?” The lawman’s mouth curved. “Maddox has been telling my boys how much he and Daddy love cooking something up with a certain blonde chef.”

  “I...” Will sputtered. “She’s been kind to my son. And Maddox has developed a sudden interest in this stray cat Kara is foster
ing.”

  Bridger laughed. “And what has Maddox’s father developed a sudden interest in?”

  Will toed the sidewalk with his shoe. “There’s absolutely nothing going on between Kara Lockwood and me. Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—I have no time.” He scrubbed his mouth with his hand. “Especially not now with everything up in the air about the department.”

  Bridger raised his hands, palms up. “If that’s your story, stick with it by all means.” His chest rumbled. “But it’s like my mom always says, ‘the bit dog always barks the loudest.’” He grinned. “And since sooner or later the matchmakers are sure to home in on this very interesting nonrelationship you have with Kara, assuming they haven’t already...”

  Will scoured his hand over his face.

  “You might want to consult with me for tips on body language before they get around to asking you about your feelings for the aforementioned chef.”

  Will grimaced. “Glad to know you find my private life so entertaining.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” The lawman stuck his tongue in his cheek. “I’ve lost count of how many successful marriages those three women have wrangled at this point. The matchmakers know a thing or two about the romance department.”

  Will rolled his eyes. “The matchmakers are a public menace. And right now I’m more concerned about another department. The Truelove Fire Department.”

  “I have a feeling the Double Name Club might be coming for you, buddy. Been there. Done that. And I’ve never been happier.” Chuckling, the police chief headed back to his office.

  Kara and the matchmakers were a distraction he didn’t need in his life. What was he going to do if he lost his job?

  Struggling to get his fears and emotions under control before he faced his crew at the station, he took the long way around the square and sank down on the steps of the gazebo to reflect on what he could have said differently at the meeting. On what his next move should be to protect firefighter jobs. His own, included.

  The fire department had a strong ally in the mayor, but his was only one vote. GeorgeAnne wasn’t wrong about flatlander newcomers and the changes they’d wrought on Truelove.

  In his experience, change rarely brought anything good.

  Gazing beyond the river toward the distant Blue Ridge vista surrounding the small Appalachian community, he felt his jagged, raw emotions begin to soothe. The mountains defined the citizens of Truelove. Defined him, too. Tough. Resilient.

  He’d take country over city, mountain over flatland, any day of the week. Of course, he’d had to learn that lesson the hard way. But he’d had his fill of the noise, the anonymity of city living and the traffic.

  Returning to Truelove had been about choosing a slower pace. Rediscovering neighborliness. Embracing the simplicity and goodness of small-town life.

  Like him, the vast majority of sky-country natives, no matter how far or how long they roamed, eventually found their way back to the land of their birth. Somehow, it felt easier to breathe here.

  And if it took a fight to preserve the TFD, then a fight was what the town council would get. He wasn’t ready to give up on this town or the future he hoped to build with his son here. A future that might include a certain gorgeous Francophile chef?

  To be determined. But he was smiling as he got off the steps and wended his way to the firehouse.

  He should’ve known the quiet wouldn’t last. The call came just after eleven thirty. One of those calls firefighters never forgot, but wished they could.

  Several hours later he drove the SUV back to the station and got out. The big truck rolled up to the firehouse, stopping outside the apparatus bay.

  After removing his helmet, he swiped his brow, face, jaw and neck with a hand wipe. Grim and disheartened, faces blackened with smoke, the men climbed down from the rig and removed their turnout gear.

  His lieutenant, Bradley, wiped the inside of his helmet. “That was a bad one, Chief.”

  Most of Will’s duties involved administration and training. It was mainly a nine-to-five weekday job. But even if he was off duty, he was called out to bigger fires.

  Sometimes he missed being on the front lines. The action, the adrenaline, the camaraderie of teamwork. And the satisfaction of making a difference.

  Today there’d been action, adrenaline and teamwork, but no satisfaction. Despite responding within minutes of getting the call, they’d not been able to get to the elderly couple in time.

  Fire engine driver, Luke Morgan, stuffed his gear inside a plastic storage bag for washing. “I hate space heaters.”

  “We did everything we could to save them.”

  Luke, a young Christmas tree farmer, toed out of his boots. “It wasn’t enough, though, was it?”

  It was the early spring or fall when Will saw the most fallout from improper use of space heaters. The device had overheated. And less than a foot away, the curtain got too hot, catching fire. In mere minutes, the flames had jumped to the mattress, sending out choking black smoke. The couple hadn’t stood a chance.

  He removed his turnout coat. The next shift was due to arrive soon. As the crew cleaned the equipment, he went from firefighter to firefighter, offering encouragement. It was important to him that the guys were emotionally okay before they headed home.

  The truck also had to be made ready for the next incident. And since his father’s job-related cancer, he wanted to make sure the guys followed decontamination protocols on their PPE to remove any potential carcinogens. The silent killer of firefighters.

  Like many rural fire companies, the Truelove Fire Department was a combination department that served both commercial and residential properties. There were three full-time employees. Will and his two lieutenants worked forty hours a week. In addition, there were thirteen part-time firefighters like Luke, an administrative assistant and eighteen volunteer firefighters, who were available at a moment’s notice.

  But whether paid or volunteer, he made sure his crew was trained in a wide variety of fire and rescue specialties, including vehicle extrication and hazardous materials response.

  He stuck around to lend a hand, rinsing the hose with dish detergent and water.

  “Thanks, Chief.” Bradley stowed the last self-contained breathing apparatus on the truck. “We can take it from here.”

  Will peeled off the latex gloves they used during decontamination and tossed them into the bin.

  Nadine waited for him in the doorway of his office. “GeorgeAnne Allen’s left half a dozen messages for you, Chief.”

  He’d been dodging GeorgeAnne’s phone calls all week. Relying on ErmaJean to defuse the situation with her fellow matchmaker. Belatedly, he realized he’d never told Kara about the petition. Time to rectify that oversight.

  Nadine tilted her head. “Since you missed lunch, maybe you ought to head over to the café and grab a bite to eat.”

  It was scary sometimes how well Nadine read his mind.

  “Good idea.” He studied her. “Did you do something different to your hair?” She’d rolled up the back of her hair into some wire device.

  “Do you like it?” She touched her updo. “I got to thinking about my mother’s French twist roller she wore when I was a little girl. Kara Lockwood’s croissant sort of inspired me.”

  Nadine’s new do did kind of remind Will of how the blonde chef wore her hair when she was working. And he totally got how that flaky, delectable pastry could inspire. Kara’s croissants were amazing, especially the chocolate ones.

  Thoughts of Kara inspired him, too. She was fun. Easy to be with. Gave as good as she got, keeping him on his proverbial toes. And yes, man oh man, could she cook.

  Growing up around the firehouse with Pops and a bunch of guys, he’d never really had a female friend before. For a split second, it was like he could hear Bridger’s mocking voice in hi
s ear.

  Friend? Keep telling yourself that, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

  “Shut up, Bridger Hollingsworth,” he muttered and headed toward the open bay. Couldn’t a guy just crave a little coffee and dessert?

  * * *

  When Will walked into the café just after two thirty that afternoon, Kara’s heart did a happy dance. And it was all she could do to keep the delight off her face.

  Especially when, after catching sight of her, his brown eyes gleamed. “Hey, stranger.” He sat down on his favorite counter stool.

  Yes, he appeared to have claimed a stool for his own.

  She bit back a smile. “Hey, yourself.” She upturned a porcelain mug. “Chocolate croissant and a boring cup of American joe?”

  The corners of his lips ticked upward. “You know me well.”

  Ducking her head, she busied herself behind the counter, filling his mug with coffee. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I see Pops is making a nuisance of himself again.”

  “Your father is a treasure.” She flicked her eyes at Will. “And something tells me Mama G doesn’t find him a nuisance one bit.” Kara slid the plate with the croissant across to him. “I haven’t seen her this happy outside her kitchen in years.”

  The entrance bell jangled. In lavender hospital scrubs, Amber came in with several other women. The pregnant pediatric nurse and her companions waved. Kara waved back. The women settled into one of the booths. Shayla scurried over to take their orders.

  He took a sip of coffee. “Making friends, I see.”

  She smiled. “The moms are on their way to car pool to pick up their children from school. But thanks to Amber, they head over here first to grab a cappuccino and chat.”

  “I’m glad to hear they’re giving you the biz.”

  “The Mason Jar needs all the happy, loyal patrons it can get.” She smoothed her skirt. “I’ll just go over and say hello.”

  She made sure the four women were pleased with their orders and lingered a few moments enjoying feeling part of their friendly group. Amber had been as good as her word introducing her to everyone. The culinary world tended to be dominated by men.