In Love With The Firefighter. Amie Denman

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      “Uh, no. I was bringing something over.” He gestured to Nicole, but she had nothing in her hands.

      “What did you bring?” Jane asked.

      Nicole looked at Kevin, eyebrows raised, wondering what he’d say. She knew Jane had heard the entire exchange through the thin curtain. Jane always had her back and had been on her side since they’d moved into their freshmen dorm in college.

      Kevin crossed his arms and faced the two women. Just when Nicole expected him to flee, he surprised her and held out his right hand.

      “Let’s start over,” he said. “I’m Kevin Ruggles. I grew up here in Cape Pursuit. I’ve been a firefighter for about six years and the worst mistake I’ve made on the job was two days ago when I crashed into your car.”

      Shocked, Nicole held out her hand. He took it. His hand was large, warm, rough. But gentle. His touch made her want to withdraw her hand and run for the safety of the back room before he drew her in further than she wanted to go.

      “And I really brought you that mirror,” he nodded toward the trash can, “so I’d have a good excuse to come by and say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I smashed your car and made your first day in town a lousy one. I’m very glad you weren’t in the car and I didn’t hurt you.”

      His solemn expression, eyebrows drawn together, underscored his sincerity.

      “I couldn’t live with that,” he added.

      Nicole didn’t say anything. Didn’t encourage him to go on. But the heat returned to her face and ears.

      “We got called to a kid not breathing and I was driving fast. Thought I could make it, but some tourists on bikes swerved into the street,” he said, not dropping her hand or taking his eyes off hers. “I couldn’t hit them.”

      Nicole swallowed, pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. She needed a barrier. Something about Kevin made her want to forget the agony she felt every time she heard a siren or saw a fire truck. Every time she thought of her brother, perishing in the flames of a forest fire he’d thought he could outrun.

      “What happened to the kid?” Jane asked, filling the silence.

      “He’ll be okay,” he said, directing his words to Jane. “It wasn’t as bad as his parents thought, but things often look worse than they really are.”

      Kevin turned back to Nicole, a sad smile on his face. “Anyway, I’m sorry about your car. And I hope you like it here.”

      She nodded, acknowledging him. “Thank you,” she said, her words hollow.

      Kevin pivoted and walked past watercolors propped on shiny easels. He opened the front door, setting off the foghorn, and got into his truck. Nicole heard his door shut and watched him put on his seat belt and pet his dog before he pulled away from the front curb. The dog sat up in the passenger seat and stuck his nose out the window.

      “Since you weren’t making that easy for him, you should have asked him to let you drive his truck while your car’s in the shop,” Jane commented, grinning. “Would have been fun to see what he said.”

      “It’s probably a stick shift,” Nicole said, disgust in her voice. “I never learned to drive one of those. He seems like the kind of man who would drive a standard. It’s all about the ego. And why should I have made that easy for him anyway?”

      Jane shrugged. “Coming in here was a nice gesture. He wanted to explain himself.”

      “He probably just felt guilty and wanted to make himself feel better,” Nicole huffed. She kicked the trash can for emphasis.

      “You need lunch,” Jane said. “Go back and sit down, take your time.”

      “I’m fine.”

      Jane leaned one elbow on the glass counter. “If a garbage truck had taken out your car, would you feel better about it?”

      “No.”

      Jane nodded. “So if a sanitation worker came in here in his uniform exuding sweetness and vulnerability, and he told you a sad story about swerving the trash truck to miss a kitten and how sorry he was he’d knocked your car silly, you’d give him the cold shoulder.”

      “Now you’re being ridiculous,” Nicole said, a small grin turning up the corners of her mouth.

      “But you see my point.”

      Nicole sighed. “I hate the fire department.”

      Jane gave her a hug. “I know. And you have a right. But you have to admit fire trucks are sexier than garbage trucks.”

      “Everything is sexier than a garbage truck.” Her shoulders sagged and Nicole felt like crying. “I just thought I would get away and start over. And bam. First thing that happens is I get knocked on my butt by the same guys who took Adam from us.”

      Jane held her friend by the shoulders. “Not the same guys. Different place. Different situation.”

      Nicole bit her lip and focused on breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth.

      “I know you,” Jane said. “When life knocks you down, you get up and dust yourself off.”

      Nicole swallowed. “I’ll have some lunch and then get to work,” she said.

      * * *

      “UNCONDITIONAL LOVE, HUH, ARNOLD?” Kevin said, scratching his dog’s head between shifting gears on his aging F-150. “That’s what everyone says dogs are good for.”

      Arnold scooted over and surrendered to the temptation of the open truck window, sticking his nose out.

      “Fine,” Kevin said.

      Arnold sneezed and the wind blew snot back into the truck.

      “Maybe I should take you to live at the station. You could be the mascot.”

      Kevin drove to the house he was currently painting on his days off from the station. An irregular schedule of twenty-four on, then thirty-six or twelve on gave him time to work in the sunshine on outside projects. Even if it meant sacrificing sleep.

      Charlie Zimmerman stood in the driveway, holding a hammer. He walked up to Kevin’s open window as soon as the truck stopped.

      “Just got the for-sale sign put up,” he said. “The house looks lousy now, but once you get it painted it’ll sell fast. Especially with summer coming up.”

      The house was constructed exactly like the others on the street. Originally beach rentals, they were all one-story, wood-sided, with single-car garages and tiny front yards. Some of the houses had acquired character over the years with brightly painted walls, redesigned front entrances, creative landscaping. This house was like a wallflower cousin asked to the prom out of obligation. It needed color and life.

      “Decide on the paint?” Kevin asked.

      Charlie nodded. “Come see.”

      Kevin СКАЧАТЬ