Rescued by the Firefighter. Gail Martin Gaymer
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Название: Rescued by the Firefighter
Автор: Gail Martin Gaymer
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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“Don’t be. It’s a job someone has to do, but I love it. Saving lives and helping people in trouble gives me an opportunity to do what I believe is important. You know the old saying, ‘What would Jesus do?’”
Her head inched upward. “Should I be honest?”
His eyebrows raised, and he forced them down. “Please.”
“I don’t know what Jesus would do. That’s another part of life I missed out on.”
“Religious training?”
“My mother wasn’t a believer, I suspect. No Sunday school or church. Nothing.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be a believer. That’s something in the heart, not always in the home.”
Her expression darkened.
Concerned, he leaned forward. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I just meant that my faith deepened as life went on. I was born into a faith-filled family so I saw it in action, but it didn’t deepen until I experienced life and saw faith acted out each day.”
“I suppose.” She stared into the distance for a moment, then continued. “I’m surprised Neely and Ashley have a religious foundation. Their mother and mine were sisters. Maybe if I’d had that kind of upbringing, my life would have been different.”
“Hard to say why siblings aren’t always the same.” The urge to encourage her to study and grow in faith stirred through him, but he feared the results. “Maybe their dad was the influence.”
A faint grin etched her mouth. “Probably was. Uncle Fred’s down-to-earth, funny and very thoughtful. He’s quite a character.”
“He is. I get a kick out of—”
“Pizza.” The word rang out as Devon came through the back door, holding a number of Jet’s Pizza boxes, while Ashley made room on the picnic table. “Time to eat.”
Eating was the last thing Clint wanted to do. Paula had opened up, spilling out some of the hurts and situations that had molded her into the person he wanted to know better. But as others headed toward the table, Paula rose, and he followed, letting the subject drop. He sensed there was much more to tell, but today he’d made a little progress in getting to know the woman who’d become the center of his thoughts. Thoughts he couldn’t control. Ones that demanded attention.
Pizza restricted their conversation, leaving him with the undaunted urge to rescue Paula from the hurts and damage from the past. He sat unmoving, the desire growing in his mind. He’d rescued many from flames and other tragic situations.
But this was different. Was rescuing Paula even possible?
Chapter Three
Paula hesitated before pulling into the driveway when she spotted Devon and Clint near the garage with her uncle. If Clint hadn’t noticed her and waved, she would have backed out and driven away. Today wasn’t a day she wanted to talk with anyone. On top of that, when she thought of him, and it was more often than she wanted, she pictured him with Kaylee and Joey, and it charmed her. He was wonderful with them. Natural, outgoing, relaxed. He looked like a guy who knew how to be a dad. She had no idea how to be a mother and, if she tried, would she be a good one?
She’d been fighting tears for the past hour, tears she resented, and her weakened ability to control her emotions was almost too much. Everything had gone wrong, even the memory of Clint with the kids. That should have lifted her spirit. What had happened to her new lease on life?
She sat a moment, willing her pitiful tears to dry up. Self-pity wasn’t an appealing trait. No one wanted to deal with that, and she didn’t want to, either. She pulled her shoulder bag from the floor where it had slipped and hoped she could sneak into the house.
As she rounded the car, her uncle Fred beckoned to her. Her heart fell as she managed a pleasant expression and headed his way, wondering what he wanted. Devon and Clint watched her traipse along the driveway though forcing each step. “What’s up?”
Her uncle swung his arm toward a large pile of fireplace logs piled into a bin at the side of the garage. “We’re ready for winter. Free firewood. How often does a person have that happen?”
She shrugged, having no experience with fireplaces or logs. “That must have been a good deal.”
“Yep, but we had to move it today. Devon called and said a tree had fallen a few streets over, and they wanted to get rid of the wood.” He clasped his son-in-law’s shoulder and then flopped the other arm around Clint’s. “These two men came to my rescue. I had no way to load this myself.”
She managed a smile at the men. “That was really nice.” She choked on the word. Nothing had seemed nice since she’d awakened, but she wanted to be happy for her uncle and his woodpile. The image caused a true grin to tug her mouth.
“We were glad to help.” Devon patted her uncle’s shoulder.
Clint sidled closer to her and tucked his hands into his pockets, a knowing expression on his face. “How was your day?”
The gentle tone of his voice touched her like a breeze, and words failed her. She swallowed her rising emotion and shrugged. She wanted to run rather than stand beside him whimpering, but she noticed Devon had followed Fred around the corner of the garage, and she and Clint faced each other alone.
“Something’s wrong?” He shifted closer. “I see it in your eyes.”
Having someone read her thoughts triggered her emotion to break free. She looked away, fighting back the lump in her throat and the pressure behind her eyes. “A little.”
His arm slipped behind her and drew her closer. “No luck looking for a job?”
She tilted her head, willing her mouth to form words. “That’s one of the problems, and I’m beginning to sense it’s not going to happen.”
Clint grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. His midnight-blue eyes searched hers, and the dam broke. Tears slipped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. He glanced behind him and drew her to his chest.
That was all she needed. Sobs broke loose as her tears wet his polo shirt. She sniffed, trying to force back the ache rending her body. Foolish. That’s how she felt. She’d lost control, and her disappointment had knotted into a wad of sickening self-pity. “I’m sorry, Clint. I’m being ridiculous.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“But I’m not a crier. Tears and I are strangers—were strangers—and I want it like that again.”
“Really.” He looked at her with question. “Why?”
“Tears are weak, and that’s something I’m not.” Though she said it, the words felt like a lie. Somehow she’d weakened and had turned into a pile of mush. No one liked mush, especially her.
“Even men cry, Paula.”
The sincere look in his eyes gave her a start. She studied him, confused. СКАЧАТЬ