Saved by the Fireman. Allie Pleiter

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СКАЧАТЬ far beyond his ten-minute walkthrough just now. Still, the word sale stuck in his throat. “This could really be just an old stove, not faulty wiring or anything.” He stared at a layer of grime so thick he could sign his name in it with a fingernail. “I don’t think this has been used in a couple of years. You’ll want to replace it.”

      She groaned. “But I love the way this one looks. Does it cost a fortune to rehab a stove?”

      Dark brown eyes and blond hair—the effect was striking, even with a frown on her face. “You can’t really rehab a stove. Still there are ones that look old-fashioned but function like new. They’re pricey, but you had to have known you were going to put some money into the place.”

      “Well of course I did, but I was hoping to wait longer than two hours before the first repair.”

      Despite his irritation, Jesse liked her sense of humor. He glanced out the window to where the three other firemen were putting gear back into the truck. Normally he didn’t fish for contractor work while on firefighting duty—especially given this particular circumstance—but she was pretty and clearly on her own and, well, seemed at a loss. Sure he’d regret it but unable to stop himself, Jesse swallowed the last of his pride and pulled a business card from his pants pocket. “I’m a licensed contractor over at Mondale Construction. If you like, give me a call tomorrow and I’ll walk through the house with you over the weekend. I can go over what Larry said and either confirm it or tell you differently. I’ll help you figure out what really needs work right away and what can wait until you’ve gotten over the sticker shock.” If he couldn’t have the house, maybe he could at least get the work, much as it would dent his ego.

      She narrowed her eyes. “Why would you do that?”

      He hated when people gave him “the contractor out to take you to the cleaners” look. “Because you’re a friend of the chief’s. Because I’m a nice guy.” Because I’m an idiot and am trying not to be a sore loser. “And because I can make sure Mondale gives you a good price for work I could do and recommend a couple of guys for the other stuff—guys who will do it right and not empty your checkbook for the sport of it.”

      She took the card but still eyed him. Good. She shouldn’t be trusting everyone who walked in here offering to help her, even him. She looked smarter than that, and he could bring himself to be glad she was acting like it. “So maybe you really are a nice guy,” she said, still sounding a bit doubtful.

      “Don’t take my word for it. Look, you ought to know I don’t normally pitch work on duty. Only I think Chief and Melba might ride me if I didn’t offer my help, given the—” he waved at the smoke now almost completely gone from the kitchen “—circumstances. It’s the least I can do.”

      She looked unconvinced, and a part of him was ready to be rid of the obligation. He’d tried, wasn’t that enough? He gave it one last shot of total honesty. “Frankly, this place is a contractor’s dream—good bones but needing loads of work. And I could use the work.” After a second, he looked out the window and added, “Why don’t you think about it? I’ve got to get back to the truck anyway—the guys are waiting for me.”

      She planted her hands on her hips. “No, I don’t need to think about it. Can you come by after church Sunday?”

      She went to church. Of course she went to church; she was a friend of Chief Bradens and his wife. Not wanting to look like the stranger to services that he was, he hazarded a guess based on when he usually saw his friends out and about on Sundays. “Eleven-thirty?”

      “Perfect.” She smiled—an “I’m rattled but I’ll make it” lopsided grin that told him she’d do okay even if this wasn’t the last disaster of her new home. Her new home. Life was cruel some days.

      Jesse nodded at the kitchen’s vintage molding and bay widows. “This will make a nice weekend place. You’ll do just fine.”

      She made a face. “That’s just what I was telling myself when the stove caught on fire.”

      “Everything looks okay, but I’d hold off on teatime until we check out all the appliances if I were you.” His radio beeped, letting him know the rest of the crew outside was getting impatient. “Once you get the rest of your utilities up and running, turn on the fridge so we can check how cold it gets.”

      She perked up. “Did that already. Turned it on, I mean.” To prove her point, she opened the ancient-looking refrigerator and made a show of peering inside. “Chilling down, nothing scary inside.” Her head popped back out and she shut the door. “The dishwasher, I’m not so sure. It looks older than I am.”

      For an intriguing second, Jesse wondered just how old that was. She looked about his age, but he’d never been good at guessing those things. “Yeah, I’d hold off.” He gestured to the single mug sitting beside a box of fancy-looking tea on the otherwise bare 1950s-era Formica countertop. “Not like you’ve got a load of dishes to do anyhow.”

      That lit a spark in her eyes. “Oh, I own tons of dishes. I collect vintage china. I’ve got enough to fill all the shelves in this house and my apartment back in Chicago twice over. Not that I’d put any of them in this old dinosaur, anyway.” She shrugged. “Well, thanks, Officer—” she squinted down at the card “—Sykes.” She held out her hand.

      He shook it. “I’m not an officer, I’m just part of the volunteer brigade. So Jesse will do. I’ll see you Sunday at eleven-thirty. And as for your new house celebration, go on down to Karl’s Koffee and tell him what happened. If I know Karl, he’ll give you a free cup of tea and maybe some pie to smooth things over. You deserve a better welcome to Gordon Falls than one from us.” Jesse decided he’d call from the truck and ask Karl to do just that. Only, knowing Karl, he’d have done it with no nudging at all.

      He felt a tiny bit better for pulling that sweet smile from her. “Maybe I’ll do just that. Thanks.”

      Jesse tried to ignore the teasing looks that greeted him as he climbed into the truck. “Isn’t she the prettiest run of the day.” Yorky, an older member of the department who could never be counted on for subtlety, bumped Jesse on the shoulder.

      “Of the week,” Wally Forman corrected, waggling an eyebrow for emphasis. “Only it’s not so fun for you given the circumstances, is it, Jesse?”

      “Could have fooled me,” Yorky snickered.

      Jesse merely grunted and settled farther down in his seat. Maybe Wally would let it go.

      Wally stared at him. “It is, isn’t it? That’s the one?”

      Narrowing his eyes in the strongest “not now” glare he could manage, Jesse didn’t answer.

      Wally leaned back in his seat and pointed at Jesse. “It is. I knew it. Oh, man, tough break.”

      Yorky looked at Jesse, then at Wally, then back at Jesse again. “What? What am I missing?”

      Jesse cocked his head to one side in an “I’m warning you” scowl aimed straight at Wally.

      Not that it did any good. “That’s the house. The one Jesse talked about buying. Sweetie-Pie up there just bought it right out from underneath him. How many more months before you would have saved up enough for the down payment, Sykes? It had to be soon.”

      Was Wally going out of his way to drive the sore point home? “Two.” Up until this СКАЧАТЬ