A Firehouse Christmas Baby

by Teri Wilson

  Wade scrubbed his face with one of his hands, mildly surprised when his fingertips came in contact with two days’ worth of scruff. He’d forgotten to shave this morning. Yesterday, too. Was it possible that a tiny, seven-pound baby could completely disrupt a person’s life in a mere thirty-six hours?

  Yes, apparently. It was indeed possible. Wade was living, walking proof.

  “Does the sleep deprivation show?” he asked, dropping down onto a bar stool to watch Jack flip pancakes.

  Jack loved kitchen duty. He probably should have been a chef instead of a firefighter, but no one at Engine Co. 24 wanted to tell him that, lest he pursue a new occupation and leave the others to fend for themselves.

  Actually, now that Wade thought about it, Jack’s kitchen prowess was probably the result of being a single dad to twin girls. Before Madison had come along, Jack had been a bit of a mess, but his culinary dad-skills had always been on point. Case in point—Engine Co. 24 had a regularly scheduled fish sticks night.

  Jack’s smirk grew smirkier, if such a thing was possible. “Oh, how the tables have turned. I remember when you were the one lecturing me about getting sleep. It’s been a single day and look at you.”

  Yeah, look at me. Wade eyed his distorted reflection in the nearby toaster. He had a serious case of bedhead and something that looked suspiciously like spit-up on the shoulder of his navy LFD shirt. But he also had a glorious, goofy smile on his face. He couldn’t seem to rid himself of it, no matter how hard he tried.

  “Here.” Jack slid a plate in front of him. “Applejack pancakes.”

  Wade took a bite. His breakfast both sounded and tasted like something a four-year-old might eat, but he was too tired to care. Plus it was delicious.

  I could get used to this. He shoveled another forkful into his mouth, and when the voice in his head piped up again, it sounded an awful lot like Felicity. It’s only temporary, Smokey.

  “These are great. Thanks, man,” Wade said. He felt his goofy grin fade ever so slightly.

  “Seriously, though. How did the first night go? Are you and Felicity taking turns getting up with the baby?”

  “Nick.” Wade gestured with his fork. “That’s what we’re calling him.”

  Jack nodded. “Nick—I like it. Who came up with it?”

  “Felicity did.” Wade dropped his gaze to his pancakes. “She thought it might be cute to call him something Christmassy.”

  And Wade had been all too happy to agree. He would have probably voted for Ebenezer or Clark Griswold if it had meant getting off the topic of his father. Wade didn’t like to talk about his dad. He didn’t much like to think about him, either, and he most certainly didn’t want to name an innocent baby after him.

  “To answer your question, yes. We agreed to take turns for the late-night feedings. We’re supposed to be on an every-other-night schedule,” Wade said.

  Jack arched a brow. “But you’re not?”

  “Last night was Felicity’s turn, and she did her part. But I’d hear her tiptoeing past my room, and then I’d hear her getting the bottle ready...singing a lullaby.” A surge of warmth filled Wade’s chest just thinking about it. “I couldn’t just lie there and let her do everything by herself. You know how it is.”

  Jack squinted at him. “Not really. Have you lost your mind? When someone volunteers to take the late-night shift, you let them.”

  “Right.” Wade rolled his eyes. “Because that’s what you did when Madison was working as your night nanny? You shut yourself in your room, conked out and didn’t interact with her at all.”

  “That was different,” Jack said flatly.

  “How so?”

  Jack smirked the smirkiest smirk of all. “Because I was falling in love.”

  Wade cleared his throat. “That’s not what’s happening here.”

  Obviously not. Wade’s life had taken a bizarre tailspin on the night Nick was born, and he was still trying to make sense of things. Felicity was like the calm in the middle of a storm, but that didn’t mean he was developing feelings for her.

  He wasn’t allowed to do that, anyway—which was probably why he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her tumbling blond hair or her perfect pink lips. So lush, so kissable.

  “I believe you,” Jack said, but they’d been friends and coworkers long enough for Wade to know when he was lying.

  “Stop it,” Wade said through gritted teeth.

  Jack poured another ladle full of batter into his frying pan. “I will not stop it. First you drag me out of bed and force me to sign up for six weeks of sunrise yoga classes, and now you two are living together and raising a baby. What exactly is going on between you and Felicity?”

  Wade took a deep inhale. He had no idea how to answer that question with any sort of honesty. Nor did he know how to put a label on feelings he’d never experienced before. Until now.

  When Felicity had reached for his hand under the table as they’d been discussing baby names, he’d felt centered in a way he didn’t know was possible. Like they were a unit. A team.

  A family.

  I don’t have the first clue what’s happening between us, but it feels important. It feels like everything.

  He swallowed hard. The applejack pancakes felt like rocks in the pit of his stomach all of a sudden. “Nothing is going on. She stepped up to give Nick a home until Christmas. It really doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  “Except that the home she’s giving him is yours.” Jack pointed a spatula at him. “Your house. And your baby. Sort of.”

  Wade pushed his plate away. “No, definitely not my baby. I was just doing my job the day he was born, that’s all. It could have been any one of us.”

  Jack shrugged one shoulder. “But it wasn’t any one of us. It was you.”

  Wade glared at him. He much preferred the heart-to-hearts they’d had back when Jack was the one in the hot seat.

  “I’m just saying I can understand why you’d feel a certain connection with Nick. I get it. I’m a dad...” Jack let his voice drift off, but Wade heard the unspoken word at the end of his sentence—too.

  I’m a dad, too.

  Except Wade wasn’t a father, and he never would be. He wasn’t like Jack. Jack was born to be a dad. It came as naturally to him as breathing. Not so for Wade. Until he’d met Cap and Jack, he didn’t even know what a good father looked like.

  “I’m not adopting him, if that’s what you’re getting at. Neither is Felicity. We’re just giving Nick a home for the holidays,” Wade said, pretending that it didn’t sound like he was speaking for the both of them, as if they were a real couple. “Besides, Felicity and I barely know each other. You’re making it sound like we’re playing house or something, and that’s just not the case.”

  “I believe you,” Jack said again.

  Wade wanted to shove his dumb spatula down his know-it-all throat. “I mean, you should see our bathroom. The countertop is barely visible anymore. I’ve never seen so many lotions, potions and powders in my life.”

  Wade was beginning to think that buying a home with three bedrooms and only one bathroom had been a mistake. How was that even possible? He was a bachelor.

  “She used to be a beauty editor. Potions and powders are sort of her thing.” Jack shrugged. He would know, since Felicity and Madison had worked for the same Manhattan magazine before Jack’s grand gesture brought Madison back to Lovestruck.

  And Wade supposed he had a valid point. Still, the potions were only the tip of the iceberg. “Are shoes her thing, too? And purses? Because she’s got them lined up in rows along the wall of the spare bedroom, like a fancy designer army.”

  It was astonishing, really. When he’d driven his truck over to her yoga studio so she could gather her things together, she’d just kept bringing one handbag after another out of her tiny attic apartment. That place was
like a clown car full of Chanel.

  “Sounds like a complete and total nightmare. No wonder you’re not interested in her,” Jack said.

  Wade knew good and well what Jack was doing, but he wasn’t going to fall for it. He wasn’t about to sit there and admit how much he liked watching Felicity with the baby—the tender way she touched him and the ache he got deep in his chest when she sang to Nick in soft, dulcet tones. She liked to entertain him with Christmas carols, especially The Beach Boys’ “Little Saint Nick.” Just thinking about it made Wade feel warm all over.

  Jack scooped up the last batch of pancakes from the skillet and added them to the pile he’d created during their conversation. Knowing the rest of the guys in the station, it would be gone in five minutes flat.

  Wade snagged another one with his fork before word got out. “I can see that smug look on your face, dude. You’re not hiding it very well.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide it.” Jack shrugged. “I was just thinking.”

  Wade stopped chewing. “About?”

  Did he really want to know? Probably not, but he had to ask.

  “For someone who insists he’s not in a relationship, you sound...”

  Wade glared at his friend again. “I sound what, exactly?”

  Baffled? Intrigued? More fascinated by Felicity that he wanted to admit?

  “Married.” Jack snorted. “You sound married, my friend.”

  * * *

  Madison greeted Felicity at the studio first thing in the morning with a yoga mat tucked under one arm and a baby bouncy seat tucked under the other. She then tried to tell Felicity that she could skip teaching class and they could simply ooh and aah over the baby instead. Felicity wasn’t having it, though. She felt guilty enough about taking her friend’s money for studio membership, not to mention the hand-me-down baby items that she and Jack kept tossing their way. Felicity wasn’t about to shortchange her on downward dogs.

  Baby Nick bounced gently in the seat while they went through a few flows. Felicity kept sneaking glances at him as she moved through her poses, telling herself she was simply being a conscientious caregiver as opposed to being completely besotted by the child.

  Boundaries, she repeated over and over in her head as she wobbled in tree pose. Then Nick made a snuffling sound, and Felicity all but fell over as she scrambled to check and make sure he didn’t need something, like a bottle or a cuddle. Or a caregiver who isn’t trying her best not to get attached.

  “Look at him,” Madison said, running a thumb in tiny circles over Nick’s adorable little fist. “He’s fine. Nothing to worry about. I think he’s as blissed-out and relaxed by the bouncy seat as I am by all the sun salutations we just did.”

  Felicity arched a brow. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve had enough? Because we technically have ten more minutes until class is over.”

  Madison glanced around the empty studio. “I don’t think the rest of the class would mind if we cut out and went to the Bean for coffee instead. What do you think?”

  What did Felicity think? Just the idea of a hot maple latte nearly made her weep, that’s what she thought. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, so that actually sounds amazing.”

  Madison rolled up her yoga mat. “Super. Let’s get Nick bundled up and head over there.”

  Felicity checked, double-checked and triple-checked the diaper bag to make sure she had everything, which seemed silly since the Bean was just at the end of the block. But she didn’t want to mess anything up. Poor Nick had been through enough already. Just the fact that she’d been the one to choose his name broke her heart. For now, he didn’t even have a last name. The social worker had left that spot blank on his paperwork until someone applied to adopt him.

  She didn’t like to think about that empty line on the forms any more than she liked to think about the panicked look in Wade’s eyes when Patti had suggested naming Nick after his father. It had been so contrary to his typical devil-may-care grin. Then again, she’d gotten a glimpse of Wade’s more serious side back when they’d been on their way to the living nativity and he’d thanked her for not asking about his infamous baby rescue.

  What was it she’d said in response?

  No baby talk tonight, I promise.

  My, how things had changed.

  “Do you know anything about Wade’s father?” Felicity blew gently at her steaming cup of coffee as the scents of nutmeg and warm maple rose up from her mug. She never drank flavored coffee back in New York—just plain black. Who was she anymore?

  She glanced at Nick, nestled snugly in his bouncy seat in their booth in the far corner of the Bean. Best not to ask that question, she supposed.

  “Hmm.” Madison glanced up from her own steaming mug. “I don’t think so. His mom passed away last year. They were pretty close, apparently. As far as I know, his dad hasn’t in the picture for years. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” Felicity nibbled on her bottom lip. She shouldn’t be asking questions about Wade and his family. She shouldn’t be thinking about him at all, actually.

  Still, there were a few things that were far too surprising—and hilarious—not to share.

  “He wears the most hideous socks around the house. You would die if you could see them.” She smiled into her coffee cup, remembering how adorably rumpled he’d looked when he’d staggered out of his bedroom at three in the morning to keep her company while she’d fed Nick a bottle. She’d never seen anything quite like the socks—saggy, multicolored, misshapen and somehow not quite mismatched but not identical, either.

  This morning, after he’d left for the fire station, Felicity had done a load of baby laundry and when she’d opened the dryer, she’d found four more pairs of the silly things.

  If news of Wade’s ugly socks could make an impression on anyone in Lovestruck, it was Madison. She was, after all, the resident fashion columnist at the Bee. She leaned closer, eyes wide. “How hideous are we talking about?”

  “Awful beyond all description,” Felicity said flatly, and both women collapsed into giggles. “Honestly, the casserole queens have no idea.”

  Madison cocked her head. “The casserole queens?”

  “You don’t know about Wade’s fan club? Apparently, he’s quite the ladies’ man. And he’s got a freezer full of casseroles to prove it. Last night, we had chicken and wild rice, courtesy of Barbara of the swirly handwriting and pink Post-it Notes.” To Felicity’s great dismay, it had been delicious.

  Madison’s eyes danced as she sipped her latte.

  “What’s that look?” Felicity plunked her mug down on the table.

  Madison shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess the thought of you snuggling up to Wade in his ugly socks and sharing a casserole seems really sweet.”

  Felicity snorted. “Hardly.”

  It hadn’t been altogether terrible, though, hideous socks notwithstanding. Felicity was doing her best to chalk it up to three-in-the-morning grogginess.

  She narrowed her gaze at her friend. “Why are you so intent on trying to throw us together, anyway?”

  “You two seriously flirted with each other at the wedding. Don’t try to deny it.” Madison arched a brow.

  “That wasn’t Wade flirting. That’s apparently his default personality,” Felicity said, not liking the sudden crispness that crept into her tone. If she kept this up, Madison was going to think she was jealous.

  Oh, no. Felicity swallowed hard. Was she jealous?

  “Come on,” she said, trying her best to sound breezy and light. Wade Ericson and his terrible socks were none of her concern. They just happened to be sharing a roof. And a casserole. And a baby. And a life. “Wade is Jack’s best friend. Surely you’re aware of his reputation as a ladies’ man.”

  Madison nodded. “Oh, I’ve heard the rumors. But I’ve lived in Lovestruck for a while now, and I’ve never actu
ally known him to wine and dine anyone. I think it’s just a matter of the entire town having a crush on him, including a good portion of the married women.”

  Interesting. “In any case, there’s nothing going on between us. Wade and I have both agreed that it would be a bad idea. I also think we should probably keep the fact that we’re living together under wraps.”

  “Does Wade agree to that, too?” Madison’s eyes bored into her. It was quite unnerving.

  Felicity squirmed in her seat. “Not yet, but I’m sure he will. You know how this town is. If anyone found out that I was living with Wade and we were taking care of Nick together, we’d never hear the end of it. People would have us married off within minutes. It would be a disaster.”

  A complete and total disaster—far worse that Wade’s socks or his trio of video game consoles. Three? Really? Wasn’t one enough?

  “There’s no way you’re going to be able to keep it secret.” Madison shook her head. “Trust me, secrets don’t last long in this town.”

  “I’m not talking about a lifetime. Christmas is in less than two weeks. Surely we can keep things under wraps until then,” Felicity said.

  But no sooner had the words left her mouth than a nearby squeal pierced the air, just as a cluster of women descended on Felicity and Madison’s booth.

  “Oh. My. Goodness,” one of them said, hand fluttering to her throat as her gaze homed in on Nick, still sleeping peacefully in his bouncy chair. “Is that Wade Ericson’s baby?”

  Felicity’s heart nearly thudded to a stop. “Um.”

  Who were these women? There had to be at least three or four of them. Maybe more. It was hard to tell because all of them either had babies strapped to their fronts in brightly colored sling-type contraptions or their mittened hands were attached to fancy ergonomic strollers.

  “Hi, Diane.” Madison waved, but no one seemed to be paying attention to her. Every single one of the moms clustered around the table was too busy fawning over Nick to give her the time of day.

  “It’s not Wade’s. Remember, he said he was babysitting for a friend,” one of the moms said.