A Firehouse Christmas Baby

by Teri Wilson

  His gaze flitted back and forth between Wade and Jack. “You two are suspiciously quiet. What’s going on? Anything I should know about?”

  Jack glanced at Wade, and he confined the rest of his laughter to a single snort.

  “Nothing,” Jack said. “Nothing at all.”

  Cap clamped his hands on his hips. “I don’t believe you for a minute, but I’ve got something to keep you both out of trouble for the next hour or so.”

  Wade pushed his chair away from the table and stood, as eager to get his mind off Duchess’s expensive taste in snacks as he was to stop thinking about Felicity. His life had been ten thousand times easier when he’d lived alone. No dogs, no babies, no women.

  No meaning.

  He crossed his arms. “What’s up, Cap?”

  “One of the fireplugs on Main Street is broken. Either a kid decided to pull a prank or someone bumped into it in a car and bolted, but we’ve got water spewing all over the place.” Cap sighed. “The intersection in front of the Bean is practically turning into an ice-skating rink.”

  “We’re on it,” Jack said. He nodded at Wade. “We’re going to need salt—probably more than we’ve got on board the rig.”

  “Got it.” Wade headed toward the locker room to climb into his turnout gear.

  He was grateful for his job, and especially grateful for this non-life-threatening emergency that wasn’t in any way baby-related. A little good old-fashioned manual labor was just what he needed to get his head screwed back on again. He’d been spending so much time doing yoga, washing his hair with “premium” shampoo and folding teeny-tiny baby clothes that he’d forgotten how much he used to enjoy his regular life.

  Everything was going to be just fine when Christmas was over. He’d been a-okay before Nick and Felicity had moved in, and he’d be fine again once they left. Just peachy, thank you very much.

  Within minutes, he and Jack were pulling up alongside the curb on Main Street. Wade snuck a quick glance at Nama-Stay Awhile, but it didn’t look like Felicity had a class going on. He told himself that was for the best. If she’d been there, he would have no doubt been tempted to drop by and say hi after they dealt with the fire hydrant—which was exactly the sort of thing he needed to stop doing. Just like he needed to stop thinking of Nick’s middle-of-the-night feedings as some sort of cozy date-night experience. What the heck was wrong with him, anyway?

  “You okay?” Jack shot him a concerned glance as they walked around to the back of the engine and lifted the hatch that contained gallons of rock salt.

  “Fine,” Wade said through gritted teeth.

  Jack hauled a bucket out of the hatch and used his utility knife to slice open one of the bags of salt. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you go take a look at the fireplug and see if you can get the valve shut off?”

  “Can do.”

  Wade grabbed a wrench and stalked toward the hydrant, situated right in front of the Bean’s big picture windows. Relax, man. Snow flurries swirled all around him, and the lush swags of evergreen hanging from the coffee shop’s white gingerbread trim smelled almost as good as the Christmas candles Felicity liked so much. He basically lived in a freaking snow globe. There was no reason whatsoever to feel so out of sorts.

  Water gushed out of the plug—by all appearances at the standard rate of one thousand gallons per minute. It sloshed over Wade’s boots and drenched the ankles of his bunker pants. He stepped out of the way of the deluge as best he could, attached the wrench to the top of the hydrant and pulled hard to the right. The water slowed to a trickle and then a full stop. Onlookers gathered outside the Bean applauded as if he’d just done something miraculous.

  Wade smiled to himself as he fished around, searching for the steamer cap in the frigid water. Thankfully, it seemed to be intact. In a few swift moves, he replaced it and sealed it shut.

  Disaster averted. He’d help Jack with the rock salt, and in no time, the intersection would look exactly at it had before the flood. The afternoon coffee crowd would never even know what happened.

  Life goes on, Wade thought. His hometown was as predictable as the setting sun. That should be a comfort, shouldn’t it? Come January, he’d still be here, wearing the same uniform, riding in the back of the same shiny red firetruck. The only thing that would be different would be the gaping hole in his heart.

  Not necessarily, though. There was still time. He could stop the damage before it happened. It’s what he did—he fixed things. He saved the day for Lovestruck. Surely he could save his own.

  Someone in the small crowd outside the Bean yelled a thank-you, and Wade glanced up. He smiled and lifted a gloved hand to wave, but his arm froze midair as his gaze snagged on one of Bean’s windows.

  Frost clung to the edges of the windowpane, making the quaint small-town coffee shop look like something out of a porcelain Christmas village. But he wasn’t standing in the middle of a fairy tale, no matter how perfect his make-believe homelife sometimes felt. This wasn’t pretend—this was reality, and in the imperfect present, Felicity was sitting at a cozy table inside the Bean, smiling and sipping coffee with another man.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wade reminded himself to breathe. He reminded himself that he was currently ankle-deep in a slushy deluge on Lovestruck’s most public corner. He reminded himself that Felicity wasn’t his girlfriend, his wife or the mother of his child. She wasn’t his, and neither was Nick.

  None of those very significant details seemed to matter, though. His stomach hardened, and his ears roared. Every cell in his body tensed as if prepared for battle.

  “Wade,” Jack called from the middle of the intersection, no doubt wondering why he’d suddenly turned to stone instead of heading back to the rig to grab another bucket of rock salt now that he’d gotten the fire hydrant taken care of.

  Wade didn’t much care, though. He’d been taken over by some sort of bizarre, propriety need to see what exactly was going on at Felicity’s booth inside the Bean.

  “I’ll be right back.” His grip tightened around his wrench as he stepped out of the muck and onto the sidewalk.

  The onlookers exchanged puzzled glances, giddy smiles fading.

  “Excuse me,” Wade said, touching the brim of his helmet and nodding while he made his way to the Bean’s double doors.

  He stomped his messy boots on the welcome mat and then pushed his way inside. A rush of warm, coffee-scented air greeted him, which seemed to make the terrible churning in his gut ten times worse.

  Was Felicity on a date? Granted, they hadn’t actually promised not to date other people. But Wade hadn’t even considered spending time with another woman. He’d assumed Felicity felt the same way. Big mistake, apparently.

  The crush of people crowded around the register parted for him, and Wade tried his best not to make eye contact with anyone. In his turnout gear and helmet, he felt immediately, woefully out of place—a bulky, awkward mess in a sea of reindeer sweaters.

  Except for Felicity’s date, of course. The first thing to come into focus as Wade drew near the cozy corner booth was the sleek business suit that the man was wearing. And a tie? No one in Lovestruck dressed like that. Except...

  “Brad?” Wade said, glaring down at the man—Brad Walker, Lovestruck’s resident real estate mogul. His family owned half of Main Street.

  “Wade?” Felicity’s gaze traveled slowly from his helmet to the tips of his grimy boots, lingering briefly on the wrench in his hand as it dripped water onto the Bean’s polished walnut floor.

  “Hey, Wade,” Brad said, smile freezing into place. He glanced back and forth between Wade and Felicity, then stood and smoothed down his tie.

  Wade glared at the pristine strip of silk and thought about his favorite socks, heaped at the bottom of the dryer in a pathetic, gaudy lump. He had no one to blame for this situation but himself.

  Brad cleared
his throat. “I should probably get going. It was lovely chatting with you, Felicity. I’ll be in touch.”

  I’ll be in touch?

  Wade had the sudden urge to conk Brad over the head with his wrench.

  “Thanks so much, Brad,” Felicity said, beaming as if Brad knew exactly what a Birkin bag was without having to Google it.

  “Bye, Wade. Good to see you.” Brad lingered just long enough to realize Wade wasn’t going to respond, and then he walked away in his immaculate wing tip shoes.

  Wade felt like a hulking idiot as he slid into Brad’s vacated seat. The fact that Felicity was staring daggers at him didn’t help.

  He glanced at Nick, tucked beneath a flannel blanket decorated with tiny fire trucks in his bouncy seat, and his heart gave a bittersweet tug. Wade had never seen the blanket before. It could have been a hand-me-down from Jack’s twins, but somehow he doubted it. Just last night Felicity had come home with a gingham-checked shopping bag from the children’s boutique across the street from her yoga studio.

  Wade swallowed hard.

  “Do you mind telling me what just happened?” Felicity said, her tone razor sharp.

  Wade nodded his head in the direction of Main Street. “A fire hydrant burst outside.”

  “I wasn’t talking about a fire hydrant, and you know it.” She lifted a single eyebrow. “Duchess would have been less subtle about marking her territory than you were just now.”

  Wade wasn’t entirely sure girl dogs did that sort of thing. It seemed more like male dog behavior, but now didn’t seem like the time to drive that point home. Nor did he want to inject Duchess the Destroyer into this particular conversation.

  “I didn’t realize you were dating,” he said, trying his best not to sound jealous even though he could practically feel himself turning green.

  “I’m not,” Felicity said flatly.

  Wade felt himself frown. “I don’t understand.”

  There were two coffee cups sitting on the table, and only one of them was marked with Felicity’s pretty pink lipstick.

  “I’d never even met Brad Walker until ten minutes ago. We were not on a date. He wanted to talk to me about a hardware store moving into the yoga studio.” She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. It was his move, apparently.

  “I see,” he said. Actually, he didn’t see. What was she talking about? “Wait, why would a hardware store move into the yoga studio? Don’t you have a lease?”

  Felicity shifted on the leather bench seat of the booth, not quite meeting his gaze all of a sudden. “Yes, but Brad’s client really likes the space, apparently. They’ve offered to buy out the rest of my lease if I’m interested.”

  “Are you?” Wade growled. “Interested, I mean?”

  Felicity’s yoga studio wasn’t his business any more than her dating life was, but he hated the thought of her closing up shop. She loved that place. Come to think of it, so did he. He was starting to enjoy her early-morning yoga class. The knitters and firefighters had even begun talking about having a joint Christmas party.

  “Maybe.” She shrugged a single, elegant shoulder, and the wide collar of the fuzzy Angora sweater she was wearing slid out of place just enough to afford Wade a glimpse of her delicate collar bone and the warm curve of her neck.

  His chest tightened into a bruised and battered knot. This was bad—really bad. Worse than if she’d actually been on a date. If she gave up her yoga studio, there would be nothing in Lovestruck keeping her here after she moved out of his house. Not Nick. Not her crowded little attic apartment. Certainly not the gossamer thread of connection holding them together. Wade wasn’t even sure if it was real. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he said.

  Felicity nodded, but her eyes grew wary. He was losing her already. He could feel it.

  Not yet, damn it.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to have more time—more days with Felicity and Nick to make sense of what he wanted. They were supposed to be his until Christmas.

  “Does this have anything to do with the Birkin?” he asked.

  It was a cop-out and he knew it. There were a million agonizing questions swirling in his head, and none of them had anything to do with handbags.

  “That’s what you want to ask me about? My purse?” She let out a soft snicker, but the laughter didn’t quite reach her eyes. They’d turned into bottomless pools of blue, as sad as he’d ever seen them before. “No, Wade. It has nothing to do with that. The studio is struggling. I’m not sure how much longer it can hang on. You’ve been such a huge help, and I appreciate it more than I can say, but my business can’t survive on just the firemen and Alice’s knitting club. I keep thinking I’ll get really serious about trying to fill the classes after Christmas, but now Brad’s offer just kind of fell in my lap. I think I should probably think about it.”

  “Right.” No. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

  He should say something, offer to help somehow. He’d stand in tree pose on every street corner if necessary, twirling a sign for Nama-Stay Awhile. Anything to get her to commit to staying in Lovestruck.

  She leaned forward, narrowing her gaze before he could get the words out. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

  Wade nodded as his pulse kicked up a notch. “Fair enough.”

  “Would it have bothered you if coffee with Brad just now had been a date?” Felicity arched an eyebrow, and one corner of her perfect mouth quirked into the subtlest of smiles.

  It was the same sort of smile she gave him sometimes in the middle of the night when they were both too sleep-deprived and too vulnerable to keep their guards up. The same smile that sent warmth coursing through every inch of his body, slow and sweet.

  She had his number. How could she not? He’d just come marching in here and made a fool of himself in front of Brad Walker and his perfectly fashioned Windsor knot. All he had to do was say it out loud.

  Let’s throw the rules out the window...starting right now.

  The air between them felt electric, alive with all the things they’d never said. Wade wanted to kiss her right there in the middle of the Bean, in front of the whole damn town. Let them talk. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t want privacy. He wanted her. He wanted them—Felicity and Nick, both. For real, not just for pretend.

  You don’t know the first thing about being a family man.

  The voice in the back of his head sounded just like his father’s, same as it always did. But it was growing quieter by the day, and right now, with Felicity’s lips only a breath away, it was little more than a whisper.

  They could do this, couldn’t they? They could make it work.

  He reached to cup her face in one hand, drawing the pad of his thumb along the beautiful swell of her lower lip. How long had he dreamed about touching her like this? It felt like too many days and nights to count.

  “Just the thought of it made me crazy,” he whispered and then he leaned forward ever so slightly, closing the space between them.

  Felicity let out a whimper of surrender, as soft as a kitten, when his lips nearly brushed against hers. It took every ounce of self-control Wade possessed not to rush. It was bad enough that their first real kiss was about to take place in public—he wanted it to be good. Memorable. Like a perfect mistletoe moment.

  But the very real lack of actual mistletoe must have thrown a wrench in things, because the kiss ended before it began when Jack suddenly appeared at their table.

  “You’ll be right back, huh?” he said tersely.

  Wade and Felicity sprang apart as if they were two teenagers who’d just been interrupted by an angry parent.

  “Um.” Felicity’s face went pink. “Hi, Jack.”

  “Yeah, hello.” Wade glared at his friend. Seriously? Now?

  Okay, sure. He’d left
Jack in the middle of the street with a bucket of rock salt and a fire truck blocking the intersection, which—now that he thought about it—was really bad. By far the most unprofessional thing he’d ever done. But it would have been great if Jack could have waited just one more minute to come inside and drag him away. So, so great.

  “Look, I hope I’m not interrupting anything—” Jack glanced back and forth between them “—significant.”

  Neither of them said a word.

  Jack winced. “Oh, man. I am, aren’t I?”

  “You’re fine. I was just leaving, actually,” Felicity said, gathering Nick and his baby seat into her arms in record speed. “Bye, Jack.”

  She slid out of the booth and murmured a goodbye to Wade without meeting his gaze, and then she was gone...just like the moment of intimacy they’d come so close to sharing.

  At long last.

  Almost.

  * * *

  “That can’t be the end of the story,” Madison said later that night as she swirled her glass of red wine.

  “Oh, but it is.” Felicity sighed, then reached for her own glass of garnet-hued Frontenac.

  After almost being kissed by Wade, Felicity had gone home and replayed the events of the afternoon over and over in her mind. He’d been jealous when he’d spotted her having coffee in the Bean with Brad Walker—that much was obvious. She still hadn’t gotten over the shock of seeing him stalk toward their booth dressed in full firefighter gear. As much as she’d wanted to be furious at him for acting like a complete and total caveman, she couldn’t. The butterflies she always seemed to get when he was around had gone into overdrive.

  But what did it mean?

  Felicity had no idea. Wade had clearly been upset when he’d thought she was on a date, and he didn’t seem to like the idea of closing the yoga studio any better. But was her impromptu coffee date with Brad the only reason he’d almost kissed her?

  Eight hours later, she still didn’t have an answer to that question. Hence, an impromptu girls’ night at Lovestruck’s one and only wine bar.