by Teri Wilson
What Wade had done for her had cracked her heart open—not all the way wide, just the smallest possible bit. But it was still enough to let the light in, and now there was no turning back. Joy filled her like sunshine.
“I’ll do it,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “If the social worker says we can move in to your house temporarily and if you agree to help, I’ll take care of the baby.”
Wade’s mouth curved into a tentative smile that seemed to build by the second, as did the sudden swirl of panic in Felicity’s chest. “Seriously?”
Her heart felt like it had lodged at the base of her throat. Everything was going to be fine, though. This was only temporary. He realized that, right?
She held up her hands. “Just until the holidays have passed, or until someone steps up and applies for adoption. Can you live with that, Smokey?”
Wade’s grin widened until it seemed to take up his entire handsome face. Good gravy, what was she getting herself into?
“I can live with that,” he said.
But could she?
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Lovestruck, Vermont! A Firehouse Christmas Baby is the second book in the Lovestruck, Vermont series, which is four interconnected books about newcomers to a charming small town where love comes in packages. I hope Wade and Felicity’s Christmas love story gives you a heaping dose of holiday feels!
Like the last book in this series, the hero of A Firehouse Christmas Baby is a firefighter. Shortly before I began working on this book, I took a tour of a local fire station here in my hometown for research purposes. What a fun day that was! The firefighters of San Antonio Fire Station 34 spent half a day answering questions and showing me around. They even posed for selfies with me. We also talked for quite a while about the Safe Haven law, which provides safe places for parents of newborn infants to take their children if they feel unable to care for them. Firehouses are designated Safe Haven locations, and to date, more than four thousand infants in the United States have been surrendered under this law.
I was immediately drawn to the idea of writing about a Safe Haven baby during the holidays, because the concept seemed like a wonderful way to explore the spirit of Christmas. When I mentioned this to the firefighters at SAFD Station 34, one of them—Captain Jeremy Huntsman—suggested a special twist to the story. It was a brilliant idea, and I’ve indeed used it in this book.
I hope you enjoy this poignant trip to Christmas in Vermont. As always, thank you so much for reading. And please look for the next book in the Lovestruck series, coming April 2021.
Happy reading!
Teri Wilson
A FIREHOUSE CHRISTMAS BABY
Teri Wilson
www.millsandboon.com.au
TERI WILSON is a Publishers Weekly bestselling author of romance and romantic comedy. Several of Teri’s books have been adapted into Hallmark Channel Original Movies, most notably Unleashing Mr. Darcy. She is also a recipient of the prestigious RITA® Award for excellence in romance fiction for her novel The Bachelor’s Baby Surprise. Teri has a major weakness for cute animals and pretty dresses, and she loves following the British royal family. Visit her at www.teriwilson.net.
For anyone who has ever needed a safe haven.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from A Soldier Under Her Tree by Kathy Douglass
Chapter One
Here’s the juicy secret no one tells you about firemen: pretty much of all them, Wade Ericson included, are deathly afraid of one thing. And it’s probably the thing you’d least expect.
Scratch that. It’s definitely the thing you’d least expect. Burning buildings? No problem. Smoke inhalation? Not a picnic, but firefighters have equipment to deal with that sort of danger. Fires that burn hotter than the surface of the sun? Again, just an ordinary day at the office.
A tiny, newborn baby, on the other hand, will leave most firefighters quaking in their flame-resistant boots. That’s right—a baby.
Technically, it’s the imminent arrival of said baby that’s terrifying. If a woman in labor is relying on a firefighter to deliver her child, something unexpected has likely already happened. The number of things that can go wrong seems endless. Firefighters are in the business of saving lives, and no life seems quite as pure or precious as an innocent newborn. No one wants to screw that up.
No one, including Wade Ericson.
Wade would’ve quite literally rather walked through fire than respond to the call a few weeks ago for an expectant mom in distress in a stalled car on the state highway on the outskirts of Lovestruck, Vermont. Lovestruck was a quiet, sleepy little town—the sort of place where firefighters actually rescued kittens in trees. Just a month ago, Wade had shown up at a call for a house fire that turned out to be a doghouse. Muffin, the resident of the doghouse, was tucked safely inside her owner’s arms and watched as Wade valiantly sprayed the animal’s tiny three-foot-by-three-foot structure with his fire extinguisher. Mission accomplished, day saved.
Which is all to say that no one in the history of the LFD had ever been called upon to deliver a baby before—not even Cap, Wade’s long-time supervisor and overall father figure of the guys at Engine Co. 24, Lovestruck’s lone fire station. There’s a first time for everything, though, and in the wee hours of the morning on Thanksgiving Day, Wade delivered his very first baby. With any luck, he thought hours later as he stood at the window of the labor and delivery unit at the big hospital in Burlington and watched the newborn sleep, it will also be my last. One and done.
He returned to a hero’s welcome at the firehouse. The guys all clapped him on the back, and Cap hugged him so hard that he thought his bones might break. Jack Cole, LFD’s lieutenant and Wade’s closest friend, even baked him a cake—devil’s food with rich chocolate icing and a plastic baby rattle perched jauntily on top. Jack himself was a dad to twin baby girls, which probably explained why he had easy access to a baby rattle, but even his response to the news of Wade’s heroics was “Better you than me.”
Wade ate his cake, and even though he’d been awake for probably thirty-six hours straight at that point, he posed for a picture for the front page of the local paper, the Lovestruck Bee. The mayor called to thank him for his service and then sent half a dozen pizzas to the firehouse. But when the celebration was finally over and, at long last, Wade stretched out on his bunk to close his weary eyes, he cried like a (yep, you guessed it) baby.
He was so damned relieved. The baby was healthy and happy, and the mother—though at fifteen or sixteen, practically a child herself—was resting comfortably up in Burlington. He’d managed to deliver a happy ending, all wrapped up with a neat little bow. It was over.
Except it wasn’t. Not really.
“Are you going to this thing?” Jack asked two weeks later as he and Wade were perched atop the LFD’s ladder truck, stretching a banner across Main Street advertising the upcoming Lovestruck Christmas festival.
Two weeks, one day and six hours after the birth of the baby, if Wade was keeping track. Which he wasn’t—not intentionally, anyway. He ju
st couldn’t seem to shake the memory of the infant boy’s delicate little fingers and toes. Or the way the newborn child had looked at him when he’d stopped crying and opened his eyes for the very first time, as if he’d been nothing short of awestruck by the circumstances surrounding his birth. Join the club, Wade had thought.
“The Christmas festival? I don’t have much of a choice.” Wade squinted at the banner through a swirl of snowflakes. It looked a little high on the right. “I’m in it.”
“You’re in it?” Jack nudged the banner higher and then frowned as Wade tugged it down a few inches. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m in it. I’m playing the part of one of the Christmas characters,” he said without quite meeting Jack’s gaze.
Wade had been avoiding this conversation for the past few days, for multiple reasons. If it had been up to him, he wouldn’t have been forced to have it to begin with. But when the mayor of Lovestruck specifically asks a firefighter to do something, the firefighter does it, even if that something involves dressing in a ridiculous costume for the entire town to gaze upon. Wade didn’t make the rules. The mayor didn’t just send congratulatory pizzas—she signed his paycheck, as well. He had no choice in the matter.
Jack let out a bark of laughter. “You’re going to be Santa Claus?”
“What? No.” Wade started making his way down the ladder so he could check the banner from the street. Santa? How old did Jack think he looked? Normally that role went to one of the retirees from the library’s rocking chair crowd. Delivering the baby might have aged him a bit, but he was pretty sure he had a few decades to go before climbing into a plush red Santa suit.
“An elf? Please tell me it’s an elf. You’d look great in green hosiery.” Jack snorted. “Eat your heart out, Will Ferrell.”
He was practically yelling from the top of the ladder. Wade glared at him from the cobblestone street. Now he’d get to share his news with Jack at full volume in front of the greater population of Lovestruck, most of whom were lingering outside the entrance to the Bean with peppermint mochas in hand as they watched the banner go up. Super.
“I’m going to be Joseph, you idiot,” he said tersely.
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Seriously?”
Was it really that hard to believe? Granted, Wade didn’t exactly have a reputation as a Biblical-type figure, but Jack had apparently forgotten that Wade had recently become the town poster boy for anything and everything baby-related. If anyone in Lovestruck was suited to play Joseph in the living nativity display, it was Wade. The mayor and the entire town council thought so, anyway.
“Yes. You know the drill—the living nativity runs every night leading up to Christmas, so laugh it up. Starting tonight, I’ll be freezing my butt off in a pile of brown robes next to a live donkey and some cantankerous sheep from Old Bob’s farm.”
And a plastic baby. Can’t forget the baby.
An ache burned deep in Wade’s chest, which he pretended to believe was a product of the frigid December air.
Banner securely in place, Jack climbed down the ladder to stand next to him. They both gave it another once-over, making sure it looked decent before lowering the ladder.
“I’m not laughing,” Jack finally said, crossing his arms. “I think it’s nice, actually. In a way it will make the Christmas festival’s living nativity scene a little more meaningful this year.”
Wade took a deep inhale of frosty air. Instinct told him to argue. He’d only been doing his job—he’d delivered a baby, which in no way compared to being the father figure to the infant Jesus. And the experience had left him more rattled than he cared to admit.
But he understood Jack’s point. He also understood his hometown, and there was no doubt at all in Wade’s mind—Lovestruck was going to eat it up.
From the looks of things, they already were. The crowd outside the Bean was beaming at him from a distance. Clearly the moms pushing strollers and holding the hands of their bundled-up, mittened preschoolers had overheard. Word would surely spread far and wide by the end of his shift.
He averted his gaze. Weeks ago, if anyone had told him that he’d suddenly become Lovestruck’s unofficial bachelor of the year, he would have been thrilled. It was weird, though. Mothers stopped him in the Village Market and wanted to snap photos of him kissing their babies’ foreheads. Someone had started an online crowdfunding site for an LFD beefcake calendar, starring Wade as the cover boy. Women were dropping by the station, bringing him casseroles.
Be careful what you wish for. “It’s Christmas, and we’re talking about the birth of Jesus. Expecting me to improve upon it might be asking a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Point taken.” Jack shrugged one shoulder. “I just have one question—if you’re playing Joseph, who’s Mary?”
* * *
“Good gravy, Felicity. You look downright angelic.”
Felicity Hart glanced down at the huge swathe of silky blue fabric that her friend Madison Jules had just artistically draped over her body. Instinct told her to check her reflection in the huge mirrored wall of her brand-new yoga studio, but she knew it wasn’t necessary. Like Felicity, Madison had once worked on New York’s Fifth Avenue, at one of the most respected fashion magazines in the country. She could probably drape a Virgin Mary costume better than Coco Chanel, may she rest in fashionable peace.
Coco, not Madison, obviously. Madison was perfectly fine, living her best life with her new firefighter husband and his precious twin babies in Lovestruck, Vermont, the most adorable Vermont town that Felicity had ever seen. In fact, Lovestruck was so adorable that, after she’d served as Madison’s maid of honor, Felicity had impulsively quit her job, packed up every last Louis Vuitton handbag she owned and opened a yoga studio smack in the middle of Main Street.
Felicity and her Vuittons lived above the studio in a tiny attic apartment with a pitched ceiling, knotty pine walls and a pile of handmade quilts that she’d found in an old trunk in the studio’s storage room. It was all very sweet, very wholesome. Very Hallmark movie–esque. And honestly, that’s what she needed now, more than anything. Because the move from New York to Vermont hadn’t quite been as impulsive and whimsical as she’d let everyone believe.
But Felicity was trying her best not to think about that right now. There were more pressing matters to contend with, like the fact that her yoga studio hadn’t exactly gotten off to a rip-roaring start. Perhaps she’d overestimated the appeal of bendy fitness practices in a place where people used idioms like “good gravy” on a regular basis.
She arched a brow at Madison. “You’re really leaning into the whole small-town thing, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Madison blinked back at her, seemingly bewildered.
“Never mind.” Felicity made a mental note to start using similar, cutesy expressions. Maybe if she did, she’d finally start fitting in, and Madison would no longer be her sole yoga student. “Are you sure I look Christmassy enough? You know, in a nativity-scene-appropriate sort of way?”
“Absolutely.” Madison looked her up and down again before adjusting a fold in the white gown Felicity wore beneath the silky blue cape. “You make a gorgeous Mary. Joseph won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”
Felicity’s face went warm. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
She wanted to look Christmassy, not gorgeous. If she’d learned one thing about Lovestruck so far, it was that people really got into Christmas around here. It was one of the main reasons she’d let Madison talk her into playing Mary in the living nativity scene to begin with.
The fact that local firefighter Wade Ericson—Lovestruck’s honorary patron saint of newborns—would be stepping into the part of Joseph was nowhere on her list of reasons to say yes. If anything, it was a deterrent.
Madison sighed. “You know every woman in a fifty-mile radius without a ring
on her finger would kill to play Mary to Wade’s Joseph this year, don’t you?”
“With one notable exception,” Felicity said.
She loved her best friend. She really did, but this wasn’t the first time Madison had ventured dangerously close to matchmaking territory. Plus, she knew good and well that dozens of women, if not hundreds, would probably kill for the chance to dress up like Mary and spend a silent night, holy night with Wade Ericson and a handful of live farm animals in the town square. It reminded Felicity of that line from her favorite movie, The Devil Wears Prada—“A million girls would kill for this job.”
Well, guess what. Anne Hathaway wasn’t one of those girls, and neither was Felicity.
“Fine, I know you have a lot on your plate right now.” Madison held up her hands. “I just don’t get it. Jack and I were both sure we noticed serious sparks between the two of you at the wedding.”
“That was then.” Felicity swallowed around the lump in her throat that sprang out of nowhere every time the topic of conversation veered anywhere close to the vicinity of babies. Ugh, when was that going to stop? It had been six months already. Madison didn’t even know—no one in Lovestruck did. “And this is now.”
“I’m just going to nod like that makes sense,” Madison said.
“And that’s precisely what makes you a good friend.” Felicity spun around in her Mary robes and struck a ridiculous catwalk pose. Anything to change the subject. “Plus the fact that you’re a fashion genius.”
Madison laughed, and then her gaze snagged on something outside the front window of the empty yoga studio. “Speaking of Joseph-slash-Wade, he just pulled up to the curb. Are you two riding together?”
“Yes. The mayor didn’t want us walking the full length of Main Street in our costumes because she thought it would spoil the surprise of who got the Joseph and Mary roles, so she asked us to drive. But the parking lot is sure to be packed, so we’re carpooling.”
