Saved by the Fireman. Allie Pleiter

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СКАЧАТЬ as the owner, pressed against her heart. “Let’s go see my cottage. My cottage. I want to make myself a cup of tea in my cottage. I brought some tea leaves and a kettle with me and everything.”

      Baby Maria’s response to the invitation was to scrunch up her face and erupt in a tiny little rage. She’d been darling up until now, but it was clear that her patience was coming to an end. “I think Miss Maria needs to nurse and to nap. Much as I’d like to be there, I think we had better head home.” Melba put a hand on Charlotte’s arm. “Will you be okay on your own?”

      “Just fine.” That was the whole point of the cottage, wasn’t it? When she thought about it, it was fitting that the first hours Charlotte spent in the cottage as its owner were on her own. “I’ll be back for dinner, okay?” The cottage wasn’t in any shape to call home just yet, so she’d opted to stay a few days at Melba’s while she got things set up right.

      “See you later, Miss Taylor of the landed gentry,” Melba called above Maria’s escalating cries. “Enjoy your new castle.”

      * * *

      Jesse wrenched open another of the cottage’s stuck windows and waved the smoke away from his face. The air was as sour as his stomach. He could barely believe he was standing in his cottage—only it wasn’t his anymore now—talking to the new owner. Talk about a kick to the gut. “Exactly when did the stove catch on fire?”

      The panicked blonde next to him pushed a lock of hair back off her forehead. “About five minutes after I turned it on.” She pointed to a charred kettle now hissing steam in the stained porcelain sink. “Tea. I was just trying to make tea.” Her eyes wandered to the fire truck now idling in her driveway, dwarfing her tiny blue hatchback. “I’m sorry. I probably overreacted by calling you all in for such a little fire. I was too panicked to think straight. I just bought the place today and I didn’t know what else to do.”

      She was so apologetic and rattled, it was hard to stay annoyed at her. People were always apologizing for calling the fire department. Jesse never got that. It’s not like anyone ever apologized for seeing their doctor or calling a plumber. She had no reason to be upset for calling the fire department, even for a little fire. Kitchen fires could be dangerous. One look at the dilapidated 1960s electric range told him any number of problems could have escalated from an open flame there. Sure it was a quaint-looking appliance, but he of all people knew suppliers who made stoves with just as much of that trendy vintage charm but with modern safety features. “Even a small fire isn’t anything to mess with. Small fires can get very big very fast.”

      Of course, if he had been the new owner, he’d have had the sense to make sure the stove was safe before turning it on and starting the fire in the first place. The sting of his current situation surged up again. Why did he have to be on duty when this particular call came in? Why did he have to find out the cottage he’d intended to buy had been sold this way? He picked up his helmet from the chipped Formica counter, forcing kindness into his tone. “Look, don’t be worried. You did the right thing, Ms....”

      “Taylor. Charlotte Taylor.” So that was the name of his pretty little adversary.

      “Don’t ever hesitate to call on us, Charlotte. Especially if you’re on your own. It’s why we’re here, okay?”

      Her eyes scanned the smoke still hovering close to the kitchen’s tin ceiling. Jesse had always thought the ceiling was this kitchen’s best feature. Stuff like that was hard to find these days. Would she appreciate that or tear it down and put in a boring ceiling with sterile track lighting? “Okay.” She mostly mumbled the word, her face pale and drawn tight.

      She didn’t look anything close to okay. Her nerves were so obviously jangled they practically echoed around the empty kitchen. “If you don’t mind me asking...why the sudden need for tea? You’re not even moved in, from the looks of it.” Her reply might let him know what her plans were for the place. If she was plotting a teardown and wasn’t planning to move in at all, he could skip the preliminaries and get right down to hating her this minute.

      She flushed. “It was a celebration thing. I just signed the papers on the place today. I told Melba I just wanted to have a cup of tea on my new deck.”

      How had he missed this? The facts wove together in his brain, making everything worse. “You’re Melba’s friend?”

      Chief Bradens had mentioned his wife’s friend was buying a weekend cottage in town. Never in a million years did Jesse consider it might be this cottage. Now, annoyed as he was, he’d have to be nice. A friend of the fire chief’s wife demanded special care. “No harm done that I can see.” He put his helmet back down on the counter as he swallowed his sore pride. “I should check the rest of the place. Just to be safe,” he said over his shoulder as he began banging open the two remaining kitchen windows when they refused to budge.

      She shrugged. “Probably a good idea.”

      He knew the rooms of this house. A visual inspection wasn’t really necessary, but it might give him a last look at the place before she stripped it of all its charm. Charlotte followed him around the empty rooms while he peered at light switches, tested the knobs on heating registers and tried the fuses in the antiquated fuse box. Did she know what she was getting into here? This was no starter project for a hobby house flipper. “You can still keep lots of the place’s charm, but you’re gonna need some serious updating.” He raised his eyebrows at her resulting frown. “You knew that going in, didn’t you?”

      “I did.”

      She did not. Now that was just dirty pool, letting someone like her beat him to a place like this.

      Some jilted part of him wanted to tell her the house was chock-full of danger, but it wasn’t true. Nothing looked dangerous to his contractor’s eye, just old and likely finicky. The greatest danger she faced was blowing a fuse if she plugged her hair dryer in while the dishwasher was running. Charlotte had nice hair. Platinum blond in a city-sleek rather than elegant cut. She looked relatively smart, but what did he know? Do smart people set their teakettles on fire?

      He avoided looking at her by inspecting the stove knobs. “Nothing about wiring came up in the home inspection?” He almost hated to add, “You did have a home inspection, didn’t you?” It was killing him—she looked as if she didn’t even own a hammer, much less the belt sander it would take to bring those hardwood floors in the dining room up to snuff. Still, she had a certain spunk about her. It hadn’t been there when he and the other guys first barged in the door, but he could see it now returning to her eyes. If she made the right choices, she might do okay. Not that he wanted her to succeed.

      “Of course I did. Only now I’m thinking maybe it wasn’t so thorough.” She crossed her arms over her chest and her eyebrows furrowed together. “Honestly, the guy looked like he did inspections for laughs in between fishing trips. Mrs. Bearson said he was reliable, but...”

      Helen Bearson. He could have guessed she’d made the sale. Helen was a sweet lady, but the kind Jesse referred to as a “hobby broker.” Dollars to donuts the inspector was her brother. “Larry Barker?” Even someone he resented as much as Charlotte Taylor deserved better than that guy—Jesse wouldn’t pay him to inspect a shoe box.

      Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “A mistake, huh?”

      He couldn’t just sit there and let her make choices from what was likely bad information. Well, he could, but he wasn’t the kind of guy who would—even under these circumstances. Jesse shucked off his heavy firefighter’s coat and squatted down in front of the appliance, opening the oven СКАЧАТЬ