by Teri Wilson
She nodded, voice shaking ever so slightly. “Or until someone steps up to adopt him, if that happens sooner. But I know this time of year can be difficult for the foster care system, and Wade and I have discussed things. I think we’ve come up with a good solution.”
Cap headed toward the farm table. “Let’s sit down and talk this out.”
Wade let Felicity explain things to Cap. As the only certified foster parent in the room, she was the one running the show here. He wanted Cap to understand that he knew he was only playing a supporting role. He still didn’t quite understand why it meant so much to him to have the baby stay in Lovestruck until he found a permanent home, but he was willing to roll with it. He had to. Fate had somehow seemed to cast him into the role of the kid’s guardian angel. Apparently, fate had a twisted sense of humor.
Wade was no angel, but he managed to keep his mouth shut long enough for Felicity to convince Cap that moving into Wade’s home temporarily and caring for the child was a good idea. Cap didn’t ask Wade how he felt about the arrangement. He supposed he’d made his feelings clear enough already. So half an hour later, Cap stepped into his office and closed the door behind him to make the call to the social worker.
Felicity fidgeted in her chair beside Wade while they waited.
“Are you as nervous as I am right now?” she whispered.
Wade laughed under his breath. “Here I thought it was just me.”
He glanced at her hands, clasped loosely together and resting on the surface of the table, and his fingertips twitched. Instinct told him to reach for one of her hands and cradle it in his, but something stopped him—something that seemed casserole-related somehow. She hadn’t really looked directly at him since the mention of his fan club.
“There’s something else we should probably talk about while we wait,” she said, focusing intently on the rough-hewn surface of the table.
The spot where they were seated was the heart and soul of Engine Co. 24. It boasted as many scorched marks from family-style meals as it did scuffs and dents from ash-covered fire helmets. This was the place where Wade had interviewed for his spot as a rookie. It’s where he’d spent the past five Christmas Eves and Easter Sundays. It’s where Cap sat him down last and told him his mother had passed away.
Wade had been out on a call—a traffic accident twenty miles outside the Lovestruck town limits. It had been a long, exhausting night, and he’d had nothing left in him when Cap had given him the news. He’d known it was coming. After months of chemo and radiation treatments, he should have been prepared. He’d thought he was, but on that hot summer night when Cap had sat across from him and told him how sorry he was, Wade had broken down.
He wasn’t sure why that particular memory had made its way to forefront of his consciousness, now of all times. But it had, leaving Wade with the uncomfortable realization that the firehouse table was the place where he’d become a man, in so many ways. And now it was the place where Felicity was telling him they shouldn’t become romantically involved.
Wade tensed. Apparently, he’d let his mind wander and missed something terribly important.
He regarded Felicity, studying the graceful curve of her neck and the subtle, downward tilt of her bow-shaped lips until she met his gaze. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
She blinked at him, eyes shining bright. “We should have some ground rules, don’t you think? Just to ensure everything goes as smoothly as possible.”
“And you think these ground rules should include a ban on any sort of...”
“Interpersonal relationship.” She nodded, and a faint blush made its way up her neck and settled in two bright spots of pink on her cheeks.
Wade couldn’t help but grin. Felicity Hart was quite lovely when she was flustered.
“I’m sure you agree,” she said primly.
Wade most decisively did not agree. Not that he planned on wining and dining Felicity in between late-night feedings and diaper changes, but he liked her. A lot. More than all of the casserole queens put together.
Still, she was so far out of his league that he would have been crazy to think about actually pursuing her. She’d undergone foster care training. Wade figured there had to be a story there, but he wasn’t about to push. He knew enough to understand the basics—Felicity was a good person. Too good for the likes of him.
Just smile, say yes and go with it.
“What if I don’t agree?” he heard himself say instead.
Felicity’s gaze drifted toward his mouth until her lips parted ever so slightly. Then she cleared her throat and sat up in her chair, spine going ramrod straight. Picture-perfect yoga posture. “We can’t get involved if we’re taking care of an infant.”
“Obviously. Whoever heard of romantic partners raising a baby together?” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but the temptation was just too great.
Felicity’s eyes narrowed, but the corner of her lips quirked up into a smile. “It’s settled then.” She nodded. “No dating.”
Before Wade could respond, she pointed at him and glared. “And none of that.”
“I’m sorry, none of what?”
She waved a hand in front of him in an all-encompassing gesture. “That. You’re flirting.”
He shook his head. “This is just my face.”
Was he flirting? Not intentionally, but there was an undeniably pleasant zing zipping through him. It happened every time he and Felicity were alone together.
“My point exactly.” She rolled her eyes, but her gaze flitted to his mouth once again.
Then the door to Cap’s office flew open and Felicity jumped, scooting her chair farther away as if they were two teenagers who’d been caught kissing outside the principal’s office at school.
“Congratulations,” Cap said, oblivious for once in his life. “You two are parents.”
* * *
Felicity’s appointment as the child’s foster parent was temporary—just until after the Christmas holidays, when Vermont’s social services offices would be back up and running at full capacity. The social worker saw no problem with Felicity living with Wade, so long as he began the process of getting certified as a foster parent on his own. Cap had obviously pulled some strings in this regard, although the social worker had apparently been more than accommodating since he’d been asking on behalf of the great and mighty baby-saving hero Wade Ericson, famous throughout Vermont and beyond.
I’m in so much trouble, Felicity thought as she held the baby close to her chest and got her first glimpse of Wade’s home.
She’d apparently forgotten where they were, because she’d assumed he lived in a sleek, urban bachelor pad, complete with a giant flat-screen television and a talking, high-tech stainless steel refrigerator bursting at the seams with casseroles. Did such places even exist in Lovestruck? Apparently not, because she was currently standing on the sidewalk in front of a charming little cottage with whimsical gingerbread trim, a shady wraparound porch and, of course, the requisite Lovestruck white picket fence.
The man was too good to be true. Seriously, was he actually real? No wonder women were showering him with homemade dishes.
“Home sweet home.” Wade winked.
She sighed.
“It’s my face again, isn’t it? My bad,” he said. Then he winked again.
Why on earth had she mentioned the no-flirting, no-dating, no-relationship ground rules? Now it was all she could think about. Wade, too, if his secret little smirk was any indication.
Felicity took a deep breath and headed up the walkway toward the front porch. Wade followed, jingling his keys. As he slid one of them inside the lock, Cap pulled up to the curb in an official LFD vehicle with the social worker—Patti Martin—seated beside him. A second SUV with the fire department’s crest emblazoned on the passenger-side door slowed to a stop next in line.
&nbs
p; Great. It’s a party.
The baby squirmed and cooed, and Felicity rocked him gently in her arms. Wade ran his hand over the infant’s soft little head with one hand and waved at Cap and Patti Martin with the other. His LFD shirt rode up ever so slightly, exposing a quick glimpse of the heroic abdominal muscles Felicity had tried oh-so-hard not to notice during yoga class. Her breath clogged in her throat.
Maybe a party was a good thing. She wasn’t sure she was ready to play house with Wade quite yet.
He pushed the door open and held it open wide for her. “Come on in.”
Felicity’s mind immediately conjured up an image of a groom carrying a bride over the threshold. What was wrong with her?
Luckily, her absurd train of thought was quickly interrupted by yapping and the scramble of paws on the cottage’s hardwood flooring.
Her gaze flew toward Wade. “You have a dog?”
“Yes.” His brow furrowed, but of course it didn’t make him look any less handsome whatsoever. He just looked charmingly crinkled all of a sudden, sort of like George Clooney. “Is that a problem?”
“I don’t know. Possibly?”
What if the dog wasn’t gentle with the baby? It was probably some big, boisterous, manly breed like a golden retriever or a Labrador. Maybe even a dalmatian. Wade really should have told her about the dog instead of springing it on her like this.
She braced herself, tightening her hold on the baby, but the dog that came barreling into view didn’t look a thing like she expected. It wasn’t so much a dog as it was a prancing ball of silky copper-and-white fur with the biggest brown eyes Felicity had ever seen on such a tiny animal.
“Oh, my. It’s a lap dog.” Felicity let out a laugh before she could stop herself. Wade Ericson, burly firefighter hero, had a fluffy little lap dog.
“She’s not a lap dog.” Wade grunted as the sweet little dog pawed at his shins. “She’s a Cavalier King Charles spaniel.”
“My mistake. That doesn’t sound lap dog–ish at all,” she said. Seriously? The dog had a fancy royal-sounding breed name, and were those pink bows on her ears?
Wade followed Felicity’s gaze to the satin bows. “She just had her grooming appointment. It’s a regular thing they do there.”
“Naturally.” Felicity nodded. “Somehow I suspect this particular dog won’t be a problem at all.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. She has a naughty streak a mile wide. But don’t worry about the baby. She’s great with kids. All people, really. She’s a love bug.”
Felicity relaxed, ever so slightly. If the dog was great with people, where did the naughty streak come in?
“Hi there, Duchess,” Cap said as he and Patti Martin climbed up the porch steps.
“Her name’s Duchess? That’s adorable.” Felicity glanced up at Wade, and a muscle in his jaw ticked. She was goading him and she knew it—playing with fire.
But he deserved it after the way he’d responded when she brought up the no-dating rules. The teasing glint in his eyes couldn’t have been accidental. Or maybe he was right—maybe he was physically incapable of flirting and he just had a serious case of RBF. Resting bachelor face.
Either way, it was a relief to finally have the shoe on the other foot.
“She’s just precious,” the social worker gushed. From the minute she’d set foot in the firehouse after driving down from Burlington with the necessary paperwork, it had been clear that Patti Martin was ready to sign up for Wade’s fan club.
Felicity kept reminding herself that was a good thing, lest she end up taking care of the infant in her tiny attic apartment. Still, she and Wade hadn’t even survived their first day together and all the female attention aimed his way was already driving her nuts. She wasn’t sure why it rubbed her the wrong way like it did. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought she was jealous. Which she wasn’t. Clearly. She’d been telling the truth when she’d said she thought getting romantically involved in any way would be a terrible idea. Agreeing to be the baby’s foster mom was already making her feel ten times more vulnerable than she’d imagined it would. Falling for Wade was out of the question.
But that didn’t mean she’d enjoy choking down his casseroles.
“I’ll have this set up in no time,” Jack said as he brushed past her, heaving the disassembled crib he and Brody had brought over from the station.
Brody was two steps behind him, hauling an industrial-sized box of Pampers. “We’ve also got your diapers, bottles and formula, and I’ll run out and get anything you might need while you and Wade sit down and sign the papers.”
“Thank you,” Felicity said, swallowing hard.
Wade studied her as Cap and the social worker moved toward a smooth pine dining room table that looked more like something out of House Beautiful than anything she would have ever associated with Lovestruck’s favorite firefighter.
“Hey, are you okay?” he said, just audible enough for Felicity to hear him.
A shiver coursed through her. “Just peachy.”
When she’d agreed to this, she’d known that in many ways, she would be stepping into the great unknown. Babies were anything but predictable. But so far, nothing about today had gone as she’d expected—the charming home, the sweet little dog, the way the other firemen had suddenly started treating her like a kid sister.
Her ridiculous fury over the casserole.
“Okay, then. Let’s do this.” Wade placed his hand on the small of her back and began escorting her and their baby—their temporary baby—toward the pretty dining table.
Felicity didn’t have the heart to tell him that casual touches like this were exactly the sort of thing she wanted—needed—to avoid, probably because she liked it so much. It felt nice...natural.
Which is precisely the problem.
She needn’t have worried, though, because halfway across the room, he seemed to realize what he was doing and snatched his hand away and shoved it in the pocket of his LFD cargo pants. Her rebelliously misguided heart sank all the way down to her faux fur–trimmed Gucci ankle boots.
The next half hour was a blur of paperwork and instructions. Cap bounced the baby in his arms while Felicity and Wade signed one document after another.
Finally, Patti Martin smiled at them from across the table. “One last thing. What’s the baby’s name?”
Felicity and Wade looked at each other.
“Do you know?” he asked.
Felicity shook her head. “No. Everything happened so fast when the mother brought the baby to the firehouse. She never mentioned it.”
“The hospital might have a record of it,” Wade said.
The social worker shook her head. “We’d want to choose something new in order to protect the privacy of both mother and child. The Safe Haven law promises anonymity at every stage of the process. I just thought maybe you’d already begun calling him something?”
“Not yet,” Felicity said. She hadn’t dared.
“The state can assign him a first name, unless there’s something particular you’d prefer to call him?” Patti glanced back and forth between Felicity and Wade, pen poised midair above her stack of documents.
Felicity cast a hopeful glance at Wade. He had the longest history with the child. He should definitely be the one to choose a name. The thought of a baby being named by a governmental entity was too sad to even contemplate, especially at Christmas.
“Don’t look at me.” Wade shook his head. “I have no idea how to name a baby.”
Sure you do, Felicity started to say, but something about Wade’s bottomless blue-green eyes stopped her. There was a hint of sadness in his gaze, so subtle it was barely noticeable, but very much there.
“Don’t overthink it. You can’t really go wrong with a name,” Cap said, shifting the baby so he rested against his shoulder. He moved one of his big pal
ms in soothing circles over the baby’s tiny back.
“Is there a family name you’re fond of?” Patti eyed him over the top of her reading glasses. “Your father’s name, perhaps?”
“Not my father’s.” Wade’s lovely mouth—the very same one that always seemed to be curved into a crooked smile—flattened into a straight line. Beneath the table, out of view from everyone but Felicity, his hands curled into fists.
Felicity swallowed hard.
Do something. Say something. Anything.
“How about Nicholas?” she blurted. “Like Santa? Since it’s Christmas and all? We could call him Nick. Or Nicky.”
Cap pointed a finger-gun at her with his free hand. “I like it.”
“How about you, Wade? Can you live with Nicholas?” the social worker asked.
“It’s perfect.” Wade nodded, and his trademark smile reappeared as quickly as it had gone away.
Felicity was almost convinced she’d only imagined his fleeting moment of angst. Almost, but not quite.
“Nicholas it is, then,” the social worker said.
Duchess slipped under the table, sat down on Felicity’s foot and let out a contented sigh.
Felicity smiled, and then in flagrant violation of her own rule, she reached for Wade’s hand under the table and covered it with hers. She squeezed it hard and didn’t dare look at him, because her eyes were on the verge of filling with tears. But there was gratitude in the way he squeezed her hand back—and something else, too. Something that stole the breath from her lungs and sparkled inside her, like snow on Christmas morning.
She wasn’t even sure why she felt like crying all of sudden. She wasn’t sure of anything at all, except the bone-deep realization that there was far more to Wade Ericson than met the eye.
Chapter Seven
Jack glanced up from the stove when Wade walked into the firehouse kitchen the following morning, looked him up and down and smirked. “So how did the first night go?”
