In Love With The Firefighter. Amie Denman

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       CHAPTER THREE

      A PILE OF Nicole’s luggage took up a corner of the back room at Sea Jane Paint, hastily unloaded from the trunk of her damaged car before it got hauled away a few days earlier. When Nicole left Indianapolis, she had no definite plans, but she didn’t intend to go back anytime soon. Her summer clothes were already unpacked neatly into her closet and dresser drawer at Jane’s house. The winter clothes could stay in the heavy suitcase until at least October. If she was still there.

      “We should be able to fit it all in my car after we close up today and we’ll get you permanently moved into my guest room,” Jane said, smiling at Nicole. “I hope you know I’m happy to have you stay as long as you want to.”

      “Thanks,” Nicole said. She handed her friend a diet soda from the mini-fridge. “I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll meet your Realtor friend to look at a few places. Now that I’m actually here I think I could commit to something. At least a rental.” Nicole cracked open an orange soda. “Not that renting a place is much commitment.”

      “I rent,” Jane said. “It’s nice not having to fix the roof or unclog the kitchen drain.”

      “Did Charlie help you find the place?”

      Nicole watched her friend’s expression when she mentioned him. She’d noticed a hint of something between them at the bar. Was it her imagination? Jane tapped the top of her aluminum can and then exchanged it for a bottle of water from the fridge, avoiding Nicole’s gaze the whole time.

      “He did. He was one of the first people I met when I moved to Cape Pursuit five years ago. I had no idea at that time that I’d be renting a house and a running a gallery now.”

      “To the future,” Nicole said, clinking her aluminum can against Jane’s bottle. “Whatever it may be.”

      The front door opened and set off the chime, a foghorn sound that scared Nicole every time. It fit the nautical theme of the gallery and the tourists loved it, but to Nicole it sounded like a freighter about to run over a tiny boat. After the car door incident, she was jumpy about big loud things wreaking havoc on little ones. Too jumpy. There were a lot of things she was trying to get over. That was why she was here in Cape Pursuit.

      “I’ll get it,” Nicole said. “You finish your lunch.”

      She moved aside the filmy curtain that separated the back room from the gallery and store and stopped in her tracks. It was not a tourist at the door.

      Dressed in a navy blue shirt and pants, a fire department insignia over the left side of his chest, Kevin Ruggles stood inside the door of Sea Jane Paint. He shifted from foot to foot, rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and glanced out the front window. Uncomfortable, she noted. He ought to be.

      Her movement caught his attention and he strode toward her, closing the gap. He was tall, over six feet. Broad chest. A day’s growth of beard darkened his square jaw. His dark hair was tousled as if he’d been up all night. He was far more attractive than she wanted him to be, considering that his occupation put him on her do not touch list.

      He stood in front of her as if he wanted to say something, an expectant look on his face. Maybe the guy was used to a hero’s welcome wherever he showed up, but Nicole wasn’t handing out any accolades. She waited, giving him no encouragement other than one raised eyebrow.

      “I brought you this,” he finally said, holding out a plastic grocery bag. He smiled and tucked his chin, the gesture making him appear vulnerable. “It’s the side mirror of your car.”

      He has no right to be so cute. He was about her age, but his demeanor was boyish, eager. Nicole took the bag and looked inside, heat creeping up her neck.

      “I know it’s broken,” he said. “And your insurance company will replace it when they replace your door. But I feel better if it’s in your hands and not...”

      “On the Wall of Flame?” she asked.

      He nodded, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks. “Yes.”

      “So you brought me this so you’d feel better?”

      His flush deepened. He smiled and raised both eyebrows, a goofy, charming look that probably worked on women from his mother to his girlfriend. She glanced at his left hand. No ring, no tan line where a ring had recently been.

      “The other guys were giving me all kinds of crap about it. I’m getting rid of the evidence.”

      It should have annoyed her, his selfish reason for bringing her the mirror. But somehow his raw honesty was cute. Too cute.

      She held the bag at arm’s length and dropped it in the garbage can by the cash register with a clunk. Kevin swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple at her eye level. His smile faded.

      He took his dark sea green eyes off hers for a moment and glanced out the front window. He turned slightly so she could see what was behind him. An ugly brown pickup truck with its side window rolled down was parked in front of the gallery. A huge dent marred the bed of the truck. Two wide paws and a nose rested on the open window frame.

      “Your dog?” she asked. It was her first attempt at friendly conversation. She’d have to be a marble statue not to at least ask about the paws and nose. They were adorable.

      He nodded, a hint of smile returning. “Arnold. I worked last night and ended up staying over to cover the day shift until they got back from a call. Poor guy was lonely so I brought him with me.”

      Nicole craned her neck and tried to look around Kevin’s very broad shoulders. The dog’s head was visible now, and he appeared to be a beagle attempting to climb out the window.

      “He loves a car ride,” Kevin added.

      “Does he ever jump out?”

      Kevin laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh. “He tries. Never made it yet and he’s at least twelve years old.”

      Nicole stepped to her right and saw the paws and nose disappear into the truck. “It looks like he gave up.”

      Kevin nodded. “He’s probably tired. He doesn’t sleep well when I’m gone all night. Arnold’s a worrier. I think he knows I have a dangerous job.” Kevin took another glance at his truck. “Dogs are sensitive,” he added. “Or he wonders who’ll feed him if I die in a fire.”

      The air left Nicole’s lungs, and her shoulders dropped. Of course he had a dangerous job. The same dangerous job that had killed her brother when he was only twenty-one. Robbed him of his future, stole happiness from her parents, her sister and herself. She swallowed. Goose bumps rose along her chilled back.

      A breeze behind her told her Jane had swept the curtain aside.

      “Shopping for a painting?” Jane asked, СКАЧАТЬ