by Erin Wright
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Moose and Georgia move away, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank them for it, or yell at them to come back. He wasn’t supposed to be the one talking to the reporter; they were. They were the ones who saved the dog. They were the ones who lived through a wildfire all by themselves up in the wilds of Idaho. Troy’d had as much to do with all of that as he’d had helping Santa Claus deliver presents this last Christmas. But telling Penny to go talk to someone else, to go pin someone else down with her sparkling eyes, intent on drawing answers out of them…
He gulped.
“Your uncle was the fire chief, but after he retired, they didn’t choose you to be the next one?” she asked, the surprise clear in her voice.
He laughed a little at that. “It isn’t a hereditary position,” he said carefully, choosing each word before speaking it. He shrugged. “Plus, I didn’t apply. I didn’t want the job.”
He heard Moose and Jaxson say something to the guys, and then everyone laughed. He hadn’t heard what they’d said, but he was sure – absolutely sure – that they’d been discussing the two of them. He felt the tips of his ears go red. He wanted to shoot them a glare and tell them to back off, but pretending deafness seemed like a much safer plan.
Less talking was involved, anyway, which always made it a safer plan.
“What job do you have that is better than fire chief?” Penny asked, finally standing and swiping at the hair and dirt all over her clothes. She didn’t seem pissed that she was filthy; she was just straightening herself out. Her curled blonde hair swung as she worked to clean up, and his mind paused on the idea of touching it. Would a curl wrap around his finger?
He forced himself to concentrate on her question.
Huh. What was her question again?
Job. She wants to know where you work, you dumbass.
“The Horvath Mill. The new one outside of town,” he clarified. Sadly, the old one had burned to a crisp this past January after the mayor’s son had thrown a cigarette butt into a pile of old rags and set the place on fire. Damn teenagers. That building was part of his family’s heritage, and his heart still hurt at the idea of it burning like it did, leaving a shell of blackened bricks behind.
“Horvath, eh?” She slid onto the tailgate next to him, seemingly oblivious to the dirt and grime encrusted there. She was settling into place before Troy could stop her, so again, he snapped his mouth shut. The damage was done now, and hell, her elbow was brushing up against his. He could no more warn her to move than he could chop off that elbow. “Is the mill owned by your uncle, the former fire chief? Or by someone else in your family?”
Damn, she was quick on the draw. Family relations and who owned what and who was related to who was a constant struggle to keep straight in a small town, but Miss Penny Roth was apparently up to the task.
“Uncle,” he said simply. It was the Horvath family mill, and as soon as Aunt Horvath could convince her husband to retire fully, it would be Troy’s. None of their three kids wanted it, and since Troy’d been working there for most of his adult life, it just made sense for him to take it over.
And most importantly, it was what he was supposed to do. He always did what he was supposed to do.
“Do your parents live in town, too?” she asked as Sparky laid her head on Penny’s lap and began begging for some attention. Troy sent his not-so-loyal dog a dark look of his own. It was good to see her feel comfortable enough that she would allow other people to touch her, of course, but did she have to go that far? Penny began absentmindedly stroking Sparky’s head, scratching right behind her ears just like the spotted setter loved, and sure enough, Sparky’s tail started flying again, dirt and hair going every which way.
“No, they live in Boise. I’ve lived here with my aunt and uncle since freshman year, though.” He tried to quickly come up with a question to ask her so he could just listen to her talk and he could be free to retreat into blessed, comfortable silence, but she beat him to the punch.
“Have you fought a lot of fires, then, since your uncle was the fire chief? Is it an old hat to you by now?” Her eyes were pinned on him, a mysterious dark blue color that matched her shirt. He’d never seen quite that shade before, and wondered for a moment if she was wearing colored lenses.
He laughed uncomfortably. “Firefighting is never an old hat to anyone. Complacency is a good way to get yourself killed. But I have fought a lot of fires – both house and wildfires.” He was surprised by how many words were rolling off his tongue effortlessly, as if speaking easily to a beautiful woman – or anyone at all – was something that he did all the time. Did she know how strange this was for him?
Looking at her – beautiful, smart, outgoing – he was pretty sure she had absolutely no concept of what it was like to be trapped inside a body that didn’t always cooperate.
“You guys are all volunteers, right?” she asked, bringing him back to the present. He nodded, and she continued, “I’ve always wondered if it was hard to find people to volunteer to risk their lives. Why are you willing to do this if you’re not even going to get paid?”
“Volunteer doesn’t mean unpaid,” he hurried to tell her. “We get paid every time we respond to a fire. We just don’t get paid otherwise. It is hard to find volunteers, though. People are busy with their own lives.” He shrugged. It was understandable, really. He’d been raised to focus on the fire department and making sure that every fire was responded to no matter what, but he wasn’t like everyone else, and that was okay. They didn’t need a hundred guys to respond to every call-out; just enough guys to make sure the people of Long Valley were safe.
Anything beyond that was a bonus.
“Is fire chief also a volunteer position?” she asked.
He flinched. Without meaning to, she’d hit right on that sore spot with a hammer.
Looking at her, really trying to gauge who she was, Troy hesitated. Penny was part of the press. The press could say whatever they wanted; could twist his words and make him out to be a jealous jackass or a real gentleman. It was all in how she wrote it.
Could he trust her enough to talk about how virtually the entire town had been up in arms over Jaxson being made a full-time employee from day one, when Uncle Horvath had been a simple volunteer like everyone else? Last month, after Jaxson had saved Gage and Sugar from the Muffin Man bakery fire, the town had settled down a whole lot, seemingly forgiving Jaxson for being an upstart kid from the big city, there to raise their taxes and tell them how it was done in a real town, but for Troy, it still smarted a little.
Finally, he settled on telling Penny the truth, but nothing more. Personal feelings didn’t matter anyway and certainly weren’t newsworthy.
“He’s a full-time employee,” he said simply.
Penny raised one eyebrow in response to that, silently asking him to tell her the rest of the story, but Troy sidestepped the unspoken request. “Are you from Franklin?” he asked instead. He was damn sure she wasn’t from Sawyer – if he’d ever laid eyes on her before, he would’ve remembered it.
Forgetting Penny Roth just wasn’t something that happened.
“Born and raised,” she said with a disgruntled sigh. Sparky let out a blissful sigh of her own as she snuggled deeper into Penny’s lap, looking like a poster child for relaxation. With her eyes closed, the dog missed the second dark look Troy sent her way. Did she have to appear so at home so quickly? “I graduated in 2006,” Penny continued, oblivious to the looks Troy was sending his traitorous dog. “You?”
“2000. Been here ever since. You?”
“Left town on graduation night.” She shot him a laughing look. “Yup, I was one of those kids – attended graduation with my car packed to the brim with my stuff. I couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Got my bachelor’s in graphic design from a university down in San Diego. I—” She caught the surprised look on his face, and grimaced. “Being a reporter is just a temporary gig.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m goi
ng to be leaving Long Valley soon, thank God, and heading back to civilization. No more living in a town where the most exciting thing that happens all year is the quilt auction, or when Mr. Cowell’s cows get out and block the road into town.”
Troy forced a polite smile onto his face, even as his heart sank. Of course Penny the Reporter wasn’t planning on staying in the area. What part of the elegant, gorgeous woman sitting next to him looked like it belonged in rural, mountainous Idaho? Not those sparkling high heels. Not the frilly blouse. And certainly not her bright red lipstick. There wasn’t a damn inch of her that fit in here, which would probably explain his overwhelming gut reaction to her. Of course he’d react that way. She was like no one else in the whole of Long Valley.
But now he knew she was leaving, and that meant she was untouchable. He’d be better off letting her walk away, no matter what the burning sensation in his palm where they’d touched was urging him to do.
He pushed off the end of the water truck. “Ready to go interview?” he asked, jerking his head towards the group of firefighters who appeared to be training on safety equipment. Georgia was still there, sitting off to the side at a decrepit desk covered with yellowed forms, patiently waiting around for Penny to ask her questions.
Penny pushed herself off the tailgate of the water truck also, a tight smile on her face, both of them ignoring the very humanlike groan from a disappointed Sparky. “Absolutely! I better get my job done, right?”
As they walked towards the knot of firefighters, Troy told himself that she wasn’t the only one there who had a job to do. His whole purpose in life was to take over the Horvath Mill, nothing more, nothing less.
Dating the local reporter who was on her way out the door just wasn’t in the cards, no matter how many 2x4’s were involved.
Chapter 2
Penny
All right, so she knew she was being dumb, but inquiring minds wanted to know: Did knowing that upfront make her more of an idiot or less of one?
She sighed.
Yeah, getting dressed up in her cutest skirt and her tallest heels and her lowest cut blouse to go to a grain mill (of all places!) sure wasn’t a mark in her favor. Especially since the whole point of being there – a certain Troy Horvath – didn’t even like her. There for a minute at the fire station, she’d thought he did, and then…
After practically throwing herself at him at the firefighter meeting, he’d simply walked her over to the rest of the guys – well, and to Georgia – and had said she needed to interview them, then slipped to the back of the group of men, leaving her with the unfortunate task of actually doing her job.
She’d interviewed Moose – who named their child Moose?!?! Seriously, Idaho, this is getting out of control – and Georgia as quickly as possible before making a fast exit, the stares all following her out the door. She’d worked hard on her piece back at the office, writing up an article with more heart and soul than she ever had before. Even Mr. Toewes, her boss and a normally unappeasable man, had told her it “wasn’t bad.”
She’d practically fallen over from such lavish praise.
Clutching a copy of this week’s Sawyer Times in her hand, hot off the press, she made her way over to the front door of the Horvath Mill, ready to deliver a copy directly to Troy. Just as a way of saying thank you for his help. Nothing more than that. She absolutely wasn’t hoping to get him to ask her out on a date.
Absolutely not.
She pulled the glass door open and walked into a wonderfully air conditioned office. She threw her head back and sucked in the cool air for just a moment, trying to bring her core temperature back down to normal levels. It was only May outside, but someone had forgotten to tell the thermometer on the wall. For a normally cool climate like Long Valley, the low-90-degree temps were an absolute killer.
“Can I help you?” asked an older woman sternly over the rim of her glasses, looking Penny up and down, clearly not believing that she belonged inside of a grain mill. She wasn’t too far off with that assessment, of course, but Penny wasn’t about to let that show on her face. Let the old woman think what she wanted.
“Yes, I’m here to talk to Troy Horvath, please,” Penny said in her most polite voice possible.
“Talk to Troy?” the older woman repeated in disbelief. “You better be ready to do all of the talking,” the heavy-set woman muttered under her breath as she pushed away from her desk and headed into the back, leaving Penny alone by herself up front.
Ignoring the dour woman, Penny walked around the clean, if totally plain, office that had all of the charm of a prison cell. Giving the place “that homey feeling” was not high on the list of priorities around here, that was for sure and certain. With nothing else to look at, she drifted over to the one picture someone had bothered to hang on the wall. In the center stood an older man, perhaps Troy’s uncle, holding an oversized pair of scissors, poised to cut a giant red ribbon. He looked painfully out of place in the staged event, grimacing what could…charitably be termed a smile at the camera.
If one was feeling really, really charitable.
Further down the ribbon with his own pair of ridiculous scissors was a younger version of Troy. Unlike his uncle, he didn’t even attempt to smile at the camera but simply stared at it levelly, waiting for the ceremony to be over so he could get back to work.
Looking closer, she was pretty sure they were inside of this office, although in the photo, someone had actually taken the time to decorate it with live plants and even a bouquet of flowers. This had to have been the grand opening of the new mill; nothing else explained an honest-to-God vase of roses on the front counter.
She wondered what made them move out here into the countryside to build a new mill, leaving the old one on Main Street to slowly crumble away under the onslaught of time. She’d seen the old mill on Main Street countless times as she’d driven through Sawyer on the way to Boise – she couldn’t exactly miss one of the largest buildings in town – and had been sad to see it burn back in January. Now it looked even more decrepit, just waiting for a bulldozer to come along and put it out of its misery.
“Penny?”
His deep voice caught her off guard and she spun in a circle on her heel, thanking her lucky stars as she did so that she wasn’t a klutz. Spinning on the spike of a 3-inch high heel wasn’t for the faint of heart.
“Hi, Troy!” she said breathlessly, the surprise of his appearance making her heart race. That, obviously, was the only reason her heart felt like it was going to thump right out of her chest.
Not because of the light blond stubble across his strong jaw.
Not because of the way his dark blond hair fell across his forehead.
Not because she could see the bulge of his biceps through the worn fabric of his dusty, dirty work shirt.
And absolutely not because even in her highest high heels, he was still taller than her.
It was a sad truthitude in Penny’s life that it was difficult to find a guy who wasn’t a midget compared to her – near impossible, really – and the height disparity only got worse when she wore heels. And since she loved wearing heels, she often went around the world feeling a bit like a skinny version of King Kong, towering over everyone around her, in danger of accidentally smashing the tiny people under her shoe without noticing.
Fine, that was a slight exaggeration, but only a very slight one.
And then, here was Troy Horvath. Even in her highest heels, she had to lift her chin just a little to look into his pale green eyes, eyes that were studying her intently, waiting for her to get on with it so he could go back to work.
Did she see a flash of interest in those gorgeous eyes? Or was she just wishing so hard for it that she was imagining things?
She took a deep breath and flashed her prettiest smile at him. It was now or never. “Hey, sorry for interrupting you at work. I didn’t know your home address, so this was the only place I could think of where I could give you your very own copy.” She pulled the new
spaper out from behind her back and thrust it at him.
Slowly, he took it and unfolded it, studying the picture of him and Sparky in full color above the fold, Sparky’s loving nature perfectly captured as she snuggled against his legs, looking up at him adoringly. The Sawyer Times was usually printed in black and white each week, unless an advertiser was willing to pay the upgrade fee to spot for a colored ad. When that happened, the whole newspaper was printed in full color. Penny had been thrilled to see that this week’s newspaper got the color treatment – apparently some Dawson Blackhorse cowboy was wanting to advertise a breeding stallion, so he’d paid the hefty fee to make it happen.
But what Penny cared about was that Troy’s green eyes and dark blond hair and finely sculpted pink lips were going to be immortalized in full color for the rest of eternity, not to mention Sparky’s pink tongue hanging out of her mouth.
It really was an awesome picture, if she did say so herself.
“I even mentioned the fundraiser you guys did last week,” she said into the deafening silence when Troy didn’t say a word, “and included how to donate money to help improve the radio system you guys use. It was Moose who’d told me that the system needed upgrading. Hopefully you’ll get some more donations to help out…”
She trailed off miserably. Troy was still just reading over the article, standing there silently as she babbled on. She caught the smirk on the face of the older woman who’d sat back down at her desk, clearly giving her the “I told you so” look. Penny looked back up at Troy, confused. He had talked the other night. Not tons, but certainly more than just her name, which was all he’d said thus far today.
“It’s even printed in full color this week!” She pointed at the large picture of Troy, front and center, as if he was in danger of missing it. “It’s a lot cheaper to print in black and white, you see, so color is only used when an advertiser wants it for their ad, in which case they have to pay a lot more, and when that happens, then the whole paper gets the color treatment. It only happens maybe once a month, but I guess this week, a local horse breeder wanted to advertise his stallion in full color, so…there you go!”
