A Hero for Her Son

When the baby he rescued seven years ago returns—with his widowed adoptive mom—Deputy Fire Chief Matt Bailey can’t turn them away. Desperate to escape the reminders of his failure in the line of duty, Matt is close to leaving town. But one look at Rachel Carter and her son, Christopher, has him second-guessing his plans. Rachel is a mom in need of a hero for her son. But as much as she wants the two to bond, she’s determined to keep her distance from Matt. After losing her husband on the job, she promised never to love another fireman. Yet somehow she finds herself drawn to the one man she should avoid.

“I’m doing my best to leave town, you know.”

“I know.” Rachel brought her eyes back to Matt’s face and gave him a sad smile. “And I’m not stopping you.”

“As long as I can do well with the presentation to the schoolkids tomorrow, I’m pretty sure I’ve got the job.”

“Congratulations.” She forced a smile and nodded quickly. “You deserve it.”

“I’m not as excited as I thought I’d be.”

“No?” She tried to force some cheerfulness, but failed. “I’m sorry. You’re my first friend here in town, and I’m going to miss you.”

“Me, too.” He sighed. “If things were different—”

“You don’t have to say it,” she said quietly. “It’s okay. They aren’t different.”

Rachel couldn’t help the melancholy thoughts that rose up inside her. She thought of her husband, who’d died too soon, of her son whose birth mother hadn’t been able to care for him, of her attempts to rebuild a life for her little boy, and now of Matt who had wormed his way into her life, and who would be off to new adventures just as soon as he could manage it. She felt lonely standing there, because no matter how solid and reassuring he felt right now, this wouldn’t last.

PATRICIA JOHNS willfully became a starving artist after she finished her BA in English literature. She lived in a tiny room in the downtown core of a city, worked sundry part-time jobs to keep herself fed and wrote the first novel she would have published. That was over ten years and ten novels ago. She’s now married with a young son, and always has a new book on the go.

A Firefighter’s

Promise

Patricia Johns

www.millsandboon.co.uk

He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul.

—Psalms 23:2–3

To Deputy Fire Chief Tim, our own hometown hero.

And of course, I dedicate this book to

my husband, who inspires the romantic in me.

He still makes my heart race.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Rachel Carter licked her finger and wiped a smear of chocolate from her son’s cheek. He squirmed away from her and made a face.

“Mom, stop it,” he complained.

“Stand still, Christopher.” She pulled a tissue out of her jeans pocket to finish the job. “Are you ready?”

The boy twisted around to look at the firehouse. “This is it?”

Rachel’s gaze flickered past her son’s face to the two-story brick building. Old-fashioned brickwork surrounded three large garage doors, and a row of windows stretched across the second story. July sunlight filtered through the rustling leaves of two spreading oak trees, dappling the broad drive. From high in the branches, a squirrel chattered down at them, and Rachel paused and looked up, searching for the noisy critic.

Rachel had spent more than enough time at a firehouse like this one back in Billings. From Christmas dinners up in the barracks when her husband had to work over the holidays to quick visits over his long shifts and having to stand back and let him dash off into danger when that siren whooped. She treasured the memories of her late husband, but firehouses didn’t bring back pleasant memories for her. It was a demanding job, and not even halfway glamorous for the families of the men and women who put their lives on the line for their communities.

“This is it.” She tucked the tissue back into her pocket and regarded her son’s pensive face. “This is your firehouse, Chris.”

“Will the fireman remember me?”

“You’re pretty hard to forget, sweetheart.” She slid a hand over his rumpled blond curls, and he rewarded her with a grin. “Okay, let’s go.”

Angling around the side of the building, Rachel found the main entrance, which faced a small parking lot. She pulled open the door and was met with a welcome blast of air-conditioning. A middle-aged woman sat behind the reception desk, and she looked up with a pencil tucked behind one ear and a distracted smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Rachel tucked an errant strand of dark hair back into her ponytail and scooped up Christopher’s hand in hers. “Hi, I’m Rachel Carter. We’re here to see Captain Matthew Bailey.”

“Captain?” The woman raised an eyebrow. “That’s Deputy Fire Chief Matthew Bailey.”

“Oh.” Rachel nodded, registering the higher position. “Is he here?”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Do you have an appointment, miss?”

Rachel shook her head. “No. I tried calling a few times, but I never did hear back from him.”

The receptionist didn’t look impressed with her excuse, and Rachel didn’t entirely blame her. The security in a firehouse was tight, military-style, and no one just squeezed in.

“The deputy fire chief is a very busy man—” the woman behind the desk began.

A throat cleared to the side and Rachel turned to see a tall man with sandy-blond hair, a tinge of gray at the temples. A pressed navy blue uniform tapered down from wide shoulders to a trim waist, and his dark gaze swept over her as he shot her a lazy grin. Warmth rose in her cheeks.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“Are you—” she paused, adjusting her mind to his new title, and firmly putting his good looks aside “—Deputy Fire Chief—”

“Matt Bailey.” He held out a broad, calloused hand.

“I’m Rachel Carter, and this is my son, Chris.”

Christopher stared up at the deputy chief, eyes wide. He pressed his lips together into a thin line. He moved a couple of inches closer to Rachel’s side, but his eyes were pinned to the tall firefighter.

“Nice to meet you.” Matt clasped her hand in a brief handshake. “You’re looking for me?” He regarded her in mild curiosity.

“I am, but it’s a little bit delicate. Is there somewhere we could talk?”

The receptionist raised her penciled eyebrows and leaned forward in unveiled interest, but Matt gestured down a short hallway. A few office doors opened up on either side, and Rachel tugged her son along with her. Matt’s polished shoes clicked against the tile floor, and he stopped at a doorway, glancing back at them with a casual smile.

“Come on in.” He gestured them inside, and as she passed him, the musky scent of his cologne tickled her nose.

The room was small and neat, consisting of not much more than a desk and a few file cabinets. Christopher sank into a chair, his gaze locked on the big man, and Rachel remained standing. Matt looked down at the boy thoughtfully, then shifted his attention to Rachel.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“Seven years ago, a baby was dropped off on the doorstep of this firehouse.” Rachel’s hand fluttered toward her son’s shoulder. “We were told that Captain Matthew Bailey was the one who found him.”

“Yes, I did find a baby a few years back.” His gaze moved back to Christopher and he cleared his throat.

“This is him,” Rachel said. “My husband and I adopted Christopher shortly after Social Services picked him up.”

“Oh, I see.” Matt nodded several times. “Hi, buddy.”

“Hi.” Christopher eyed the big man uncertainly. “You don’t recognize me?”

“It’s been a while.” A smile flickered at the corners of Matt’s lips. “You’re a lot bigger now.”

Christopher nodded. “I guess.”

“So you came to see the firehouse?” Matt asked.

“We came to see you, actually.” Rachel straightened her shoulders. Was she completely out of line doing this? She wasn’t even sure. “Christopher has wanted to meet the firefighter who found him for a long time now. I’ve tried calling but never seemed to get through. I’m sorry to just drop in on you like this, but Chris was hoping to meet you.”

“Well.” Matt’s tone turned formal. “It’s all part of the job, Christopher. As a firefighter, I’m here to help the community, and that might be in a fire or at an accident, or even calling Social Services to pick up a baby.”

Pick up a baby. Rachel glanced down at her son, not missing the disappointed slump in his small shoulders.

“Did you want to ask Mr. Bailey anything, Christopher?” she prompted hopefully.

Christopher shook his head and looked down.

“But you remember Christopher?” Rachel turned a pleading gaze onto the man before her. She understood his job better than he probably realized, but a little boy mattered more than whatever meetings and paperwork awaited him, and she wasn’t going to let this slide by so easily.

“Do I remember you, buddy? Absolutely. It’s not every day that a baby gets dropped on our doorstep. Here is an interesting bit of trivia for you. Did you know that firehouses have become a safe place for mothers to drop—” He stopped and cleared his throat again.

Unwanted infants. At least he’d stopped himself. Rachel stared at the deputy fire chief as silence stretched awkwardly between them. Capping the rising irritation inside her, she smiled coolly.

“Do you think Christopher could look at the fire trucks for a couple of minutes while we talk alone?” she asked.

Matt nodded. “Sure.” A firefighter crossed the open doorway and Matt rose to his feet. “Johnson!” Was that a hint of desperation in his voice?

The man turned back. “Yes, sir?”

“Would you mind showing this young man the fire trucks for about five minutes?”

“Sure thing, sir.”

Christopher looked toward Rachel for permission and she smiled reassuringly. “Go ahead, honey. I won’t be long.”

Christopher left the room, the firefighter’s voice echoing down the hall as he explained some details about the trucks they’d see shortly, and Rachel turned around and shot the deputy chief a withering look. Matt’s eyes widened in surprise.

“A little bit of trivia?” She shook her head in exasperation. “He’s barely seven years old.”

“Yes...” Matt didn’t seem to know how to answer that declaration.

“Look, I get that we just kind of dropped in on you, and I can appreciate how awkward this is.” She sucked in a breath. “I just want you to know that this really matters to Chris. He really latched on to the story of how you found him. My husband was a firefighter, too, so the whole firefighting thing is pretty important in our family.”

“I didn’t realize you’re married to a firefighter. Is he retired?” Matt asked.

“No, he died in the line of duty.”

Matt scrubbed his hands over his face and heaved a sigh. “What happened to him?”

“He was run down by a drunk driver when he was hooking up hoses to put out a fire at an accident.” She brushed a wisp of hair off her forehead. “Chris was two at the time, so he doesn’t remember him.”

“What was his name?”

“Ed Carter.”

He nodded slowly. “I remember reading about his passing. That was in Billings, right? I’m really sorry, Mrs. Carter.”

“Thank you.” She softened her tone. “It was a hard time. That’s part of the job, isn’t it?” She couldn’t help the tremor of anger that rose up inside her when she thought about her husband’s death. She knew that he was a hero for his sacrifice, but it didn’t change that he’d left a young family behind who still needed him.

“I guess so.” His blue eyes met hers and held her gaze for a long moment. “I’m sorry about how I handled this with your son. I’m not good with kids.”

“Kids can be a handful,” she agreed quietly. She knew that better than anyone. “But my son is a little more complicated than others.”

“Oh?”

“He’d been fighting at school, and he was only in the first grade. It had gotten so bad that he was expelled. Our family counselor in Billings suggested that I bring him here to explore his roots, as it were. He’s searching for something, and I need to help him find it.”

“You think I’m part of that?”

Suddenly it seemed as though she was asking too much. Matthew Bailey didn’t know her, or her husband. He didn’t owe them anything, and if Chris was struggling, it certainly wasn’t his problem. She grimaced.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem, and I should be—”

“I didn’t say that.” His eyes locked on to hers and he dipped his head down slightly to keep the eye contact. “This matters a lot to your little boy.”

Rachel let out a pent-up breath. “Yes.”

“I wish you’d given me a bit of notice.” There was a smile tugging at his lips again, and the heat rose in her cheeks.

“I called three times and left messages, but I didn’t hear back from you,” she attempted to explain. She shouldn’t have brought Chris here without making an appointment—that was a mistake. She was normally more cautious and planned than this.

“We’ve got a new receptionist.” He shrugged. “It’s been...interesting around here.”

They were both silent for a long moment, and Rachel attempted to keep her mind away from this firefighter’s rugged good looks. She’d been married to a firefighter already, and she knew better than to go down that road again. But she was here, and she’d already trampled all over every polite boundary—

“I hope this isn’t too much to ask, but would you be willing to talk to Christopher a little bit?” Rachel hesitated, then plunged on. “I don’t mean about the fighting, just about—” she shrugged “—finding him, that sort of thing. I know that my husband wasn’t part of your firehouse, but—I’d appreciate this a lot.”

Matt was silent for a beat, then nodded.

“I could try, but I should warn you that I’m not the smoothest guy with kids. There is another firefighter who was there that night who might be a better guy to talk to Christopher. He has four kids of his own and he just seems to connect with children better than I do.”

Rachel’s gaze trailed around the small, impersonal office. There was more to the story—the part where she’d failed her son, too. She hadn’t wanted to tell this part. In fact, she’d hoped that a little visit with Christopher’s firefighter would be the beginning of some healing. She hadn’t counted on Matthew Bailey having his own complications.

“I didn’t tell Christopher that he was adopted right away,” Rachel confessed. “I knew I was supposed to, but when Ed died, it blindsided me and I never could find the right moment, or the right words. Last year he asked me about being inside my tummy, and I had to tell him the truth. It was really hard for him.” She sighed. “When I told him about you and how you’d found him and held him, that seemed to comfort him a lot. So I told him the story about being found on your doorstep quite often.”

“You might have made me into more of a hero than I really am,” he said.

“Maybe,” she agreed with an apologetic smile. “But he’s a kid who needs a hero. And right about now, you fit the bill.”

“How long are you in town?” he asked, his tone low and warm.

“For good,” she replied with a quick nod. “I’ve just been hired at the Broxton Park Elementary School to teach the fourth grade.”

He froze, dropped his gaze, then cleared his throat. “It opens again this year.”

“Yes, I’d read that there was a fire, and this year it will reopen. I’m really grateful for the opportunity. I have family here in Haggerston, and it will be good for Chris to be closer to relatives.”

He didn’t answer for a long moment, and there seemed to be complicated emotions flickering behind those steely eyes, a hint at what lay behind that granite mask.

“And if I can return the favor, I will,” she added quickly. “Here is my phone number and address.” She pulled a slip of paper out of her purse and slid it across the desk. “If there is anything I can do... Maybe you have some children in your family who need to be tutored or perhaps I can be of some assistance to the fire department when it comes to school groups or—”

The phone rang and Rachel clamped her mouth shut. Matt picked up the call. He averted his gaze as he spoke quietly, too low for her to make out the words. After a moment, he hung up and shot her an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve got a meeting.”

Rachel hitched her purse up on her shoulder and nodded quickly. This was getting more and more awkward by the minute, and all she wanted to do right now was to retreat. “Of course. I know that you’re busy and I’m grateful for squeezing me in. Thank you for your time, Deputy—”

“Matt.”

She blinked. “Pardon me?”

“Call me Matt. And I’m not trying to get rid of you. Maybe we could talk more later. I might be able to take you up on your offer, too.”

Rachel’s cheeks grew warmer. “I’m glad. And thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

He reached out a hand and enveloped her slender fingers in his warm grip. A shadow darkened the doorway, and Rachel stepped back to allow the man entrance.

As she slipped from the small office, she glanced back and found Matt’s warm gaze locked on her over his visitor’s shoulder. A smile flickered over his lips and he turned his attention back toward the gentleman in his office. Rachel smothered a sigh and turned her steps in the direction her son had gone. This wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d hoped.

* * *

As the petite dark-haired woman disappeared down the hallway, Matt closed his office door. She was persistent—he’d give her that. She was also one of them—the widow of a firefighting brother, and he couldn’t just forget about that. Firefighters were a tight group. When you put your own life on the line, you had to trust your brothers to step up and take care of your family if the worst-case scenario happened.

Which had happened for Ed Carter, God rest his soul. He remembered that death clearly because it had been so pointless. The firefighter had been hooking up hoses in order to fight a fire on a rolled tanker when a drunk driver careened by and took him out. Death in a fire seemed more acceptable, somehow, than the way Ed Carter had died, and it felt strange to know that he’d just met Firefighter Carter’s widow.

She’s beautiful.

This wasn’t exactly the thought that was appropriate for a time like this, and he pushed it back and turned his attention to his visitor.

The portly gentleman settled himself in the visitor’s chair without much room to spare. He was an older man with gray, thinning hair and red cheeks.

“It’s good to meet you, Matthew.” The older man adjusted himself and shot Matt a grandfatherly smile.

“Likewise. It’s nice to put a face to the voice, Mr. Bernard.”

“This is the less formal part of the process. Don’t think of this as an interview—it’s more of a meet and greet.” He held out a business card.

“Understood.” Matt accepted the card and scanned the details. He wasn’t fooled, though. This was most certainly an interview.

“I sit on the South Maitland city hiring committee,” Mr. Bernard explained. “I’m just here to get to know you a little bit. I want to see your style, what you’ve done here in Haggerston.”

“My pleasure.” Matt leaned back in his chair.

“You’ve applied to be fire chief in South Maitland,” he went on. “And obviously we’re taking your application seriously. You’ve put your time in, and you’re well respected.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“Your résumé shows that you’ve worked your entire career right here in Haggerston.”

“I grew up here,” Matt replied.

“What drew you to apply to South Maitland, then?”

“I’m ready for the next challenge,” he said. “And the next step isn’t always available in your backyard.”

“Was it a difficult choice?”

Matt knew what Mr. Bernard was asking—was he going to regret moving across the state and leaving his hometown, his family and his memories behind. The truth was, he wasn’t just willing to go; he needed to go. There were things that he needed to escape, and this job in South Maitland was going to be his salvation.

“Not at all.” Matt shook his head and gave an easy smile. “I’m ready to move on.”

Mr. Bernard smiled. “Glad to hear it, son. So tell me what makes you the right man for the job.”

Matt exhaled slowly, then shrugged. “I’ve been working toward this step for the last five years. I’ve been working on my certifications and my management degree for longer than that. This has been my career goal all along. I love what I do. It’s not a job, it’s my life, and I think that matters.”

“And the move across state doesn’t pose any complications for you?”

“None.” Matt pushed back his chair. “What strengths are most important to you in this hiring process?” It was time to ask a few questions of his own.

“Leadership, flexibility, integrity—” Mr. Bernard nodded slowly. “We also want to step up the community connections with the fire department. The last fire chief, who is retiring, didn’t work directly with school or community groups very often, and we’d like to find someone who can provide that personal connection.”

Matt had suspected as much, and he felt a surge of reassurance that he’d met Rachel when he had. God had a way of sorting out the details, and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks. If they needed someone who could work with school groups, then he’d just have to buff up his skills—pronto.

“Are you hungry, Mr. Bernard?” he asked suddenly.

“Well, I—” The older man cleared his throat and smiled. “I could think about lunch.”

“My treat. There’s a diner down the street and we could continue this over the best burger in Montana. Let’s call it a working lunch.”

“Sounds good to me.” The older man smiled and patted his belly. “It’s getting to be that time, isn’t it?”

Matt rose to his feet and came around the desk to meet him. As Matt opened the door, Rachel’s voice filtered from down the hallway as she talked with her son in the reception area.

“Thank you so much for showing us around, Firefighter Johnson,” she was saying. “It was nice of you to take the time.”

Matt led his guest down the hall toward the door. Rachel and Chris stood with Firefighter Johnson, saying their goodbyes. As he reached the reception desk, Matt gave Chris a friendly grin.

“Hi,” Christopher said quietly, and Rachel’s gaze flew back in his direction.

“Hi, buddy,” Matt said. “Did you like the tour?”

The boy shrugged.

“We did,” Rachel answered for him. “Thanks. Come on, Chris. We’d better get going.”

They all stepped outside together into the warm July sunlight, and Matt glanced in the direction of his crew, who were parking the fire truck in the middle of the sunny drive, ready to go through the daily inspection checklist. Mr. Bernard angled his steps in the direction of the truck, but Matt hung back. Rachel tugged the elastic out of her hair, and her dark waves swung down around her shoulders. The effect was drastic, her dark eyes framed with raven hair, and her pale complexion seeming even milkier with the contrast. She gave Matt a polite nod.

“Mrs. Carter—”

“Call me Rachel.”

“Rachel.” He smiled. “Is there anything you need to help you settle in?”

“No, no, that’s not why I’m here.” Her smile evaporated. “I’m fine. It’s all under control. We’re just about settled.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Look, you mentioned helping out a bit around here—”

“Absolutely.”

“Considering that you’re a teacher—” he glanced down at Chris “—and a mom, you’re probably my resident expert on kids. I’m not good with school groups, and I’d really like to buff up my skills. Do you think you could help me out?”

“I’d love to.” A smile broke over her face, and he was momentarily taken aback by the transformation. She was stunning.

“I’ve got your number.” He patted his front pocket. “Do you mind if I use it?”

“Not at all.” Her dark eyes sparkled.

I love that smile. Again, not the most appropriate thought at a time like this, and Mr. Bernard was headed back in their direction.

“I’ve got to get going,” he said, nodding in Mr. Bernard’s direction. “But I’ll give you a call.”

“No problem. I’ll see you later.” She raised her dark eyes to meet his, then turned her attention to her son. Matt raised a hand in a wave as Rachel and Christopher walked down the pavement toward a white hatchback sedan that had seen better days. Chris looked back at him once with an unreadable expression and Matt couldn’t help feeling that he’d unwittingly let the boy down. He wasn’t the hero that Chris was looking for.

He wasn’t the hero anyone else had been looking for, either, and the biggest reminder of that hard fact was Broxton Park Elementary School.

The school was opening again, teachers were being hired and life was going to continue. He understood that it had to, but something inside him just couldn’t move on with everyone else. That fire had done more than gut a school; it had taken the life of a little girl named Natalie Martin—a little girl he’d done his utmost to rescue. He couldn’t forget that soot-streaked face, so ashen and pale, or the ragged sobs of her parents, who stood on the sidewalk outside the flaming building clinging to each other.

Haggerston would never forget Natalie, but it would move on. Matt would never forget Natalie, either, but he wouldn’t be able to move on here. There were too many memories around every corner, and he knew the answer—South Maitland.

Sometimes God provided healing, and this time, Matt was pretty sure God was providing escape. Maybe healing could happen with some distance.

* * *

Rachel dropped the rag back into the sudsy bucket and leaned back on her heels. Renting Grandma’s old house from her aunt had seemed like the perfect solution when she moved back to Haggerston, but she hadn’t factored in the sheer amount of elbow grease it would take to clean the place up. Rachel looked into the freshly wiped kitchen cupboard and nodded in satisfaction. The 1950s farmhouse kitchen still sported the same teal paint from its early days when her grandmother had set up her own home as a newly married woman. The whitewashed walls, now less than white, contrasted with the teal cupboards, and a big, old-fashioned sink dominated the counter space. A Formica table of the same faded teal held buckets and cleaning products, but under it all, Rachel recognized that familiar, sunny kitchen.

“I always did love Grandma’s house,” she said.

Her aunt Louise, perched on a chair to reach the inside of the upper shelves, emerged from the depths of a cupboard and eyed her over her glasses. Short, graying hair curled around her face, and her cheeks glowed with the combination of heat and exertion.

“Why didn’t you move back earlier?” Louise pushed her glasses up on her face with one arm, keeping her rubber-gloved hands free. “This house has been empty this whole time, you know.”

“I know.” Rachel rose to her feet. “But when Ed died, I didn’t want to leave our home. It felt like leaving him behind.”

If she had to be brutally honest with herself, she was pretty angry with Ed, too, for having left her behind. They were supposed to grow old together. Ed’s dying wasn’t part of the deal.

Her aunt nodded. “This is good for Christopher, though. He needs family.”

Rachel glanced upward, toward the boy’s bedroom on the second floor. Overhead, the odd thump echoed down through the ceiling from his unpacking efforts.

“I hope so,” she said softly.

“You need family.” Aunt Louise shot her a pointed look.

Rachel grinned. “I know. And here we are.”

Louise gave a curt nod and disappeared back into the cupboard once more. Rachel stood motionless, her mind moving over the memories of childhood summers. Hot apple pie, sweet iced tea, old family stories, visits to the graveyard, where she used to read the inscriptions on her great-grandparents’ gravestones, feeling connected to the generations who came before her... Haggerston had been a warm, safe place for Rachel, and she hoped that somehow her own pleasant memories would morph into something more tangible for her son. Was it even possible to channel her happy childhood memories into his boyhood years?

A knock from the front door echoed through the empty house, and Rachel peeled off her rubber gloves and dropped them onto the side of the bucket, then went to answer the door. She paused at the foot of the stairs, just able to make out her son’s legs as he scampered down the upstairs hallway. She smiled to herself and pulled open the front door.

Matt Bailey stood on the porch, his navy blue uniform shirt open at the neck and the summer breeze ruffling his sun-bleached hair. He dropped his gaze, then lifted his eyes to meet hers tentatively.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello.” A thump overhead drew both of their attention, and she chuckled. “Chris is unpacking up there.”

“Sounds like he’s enjoying himself.” He glanced upward, in the direction of the thumps. “Sorry to just stop in on you like this. I saw your car, so I figured you’d be here.”

Rachel looked past his broad shoulders to her white hatchback, rusting around the wheel wells and badly in need of a wash. “You found me. I’m just renting right now, but this is actually my grandmother’s old house, so—”

From the kitchen, Louise called, “I told you a thousand times, Rachel, I’m not accepting a penny from you!”

Rachel laughed and shook her head. “That’s Aunt Louise. She has ears like a cat. Be warned.”

Matt’s eyes crinkled in a warm smile. “Sounds like you’re in good hands.” The smile faltered, and he met her gaze frankly. “I wanted to apologize about today.”

“Oh, it’s no matter.” Rachel batted her hand through the air.

“No, it is.” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t expecting to meet Chris today, and I wasn’t at my best. Is he okay?”

Rachel’s mind went to the silent drive home she and Christopher had shared—a quiet boy fiddling with a paper plane in the back of the car, his usual noisy exuberance dampened. She wasn’t about to make that Matt’s problem, though. “He’ll be all right.”

“Okay. Good.” Matt cleared his throat, and his gaze softened. “It was nice to meet you. Both of you.”

Inside the house, the phone rang, and Louise picked it up with a singsong “Hello?” Rachel angled her head toward the door and stepped outside. Matt followed. One side of the porch was overgrown with a lilac bush, the clustered blossoms breathing out fragrance, and the other side basked in the shade of a mature oak tree. She let her gaze wander over the yard, a little overgrown and in need of mowing, and then back to her tall guest. Matt’s uniform shirt was wrinkled up the back, and his chin glistened with stubble in the late-afternoon sunlight.

“I should apologize, too,” she confessed. “I didn’t mean to come on so strongly back at the firehouse. I get something into my head, and I just go full steam ahead. I guess I’d hoped—” She brushed some errant wisps of hair away from her forehead. “I don’t even know what I hoped. I’m sorry about that.”

“No, it’s okay. It sounds pretty complicated, actually.”

“It is.” She pushed her fingers into her snug jeans pockets. “But that isn’t your problem. I’ll take care of it.”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded curtly and took a step back, his eyes moving over the wooden porch, paint flaking away from the sagging boards. “Did you know that I knew your grandmother? I don’t know why you and I never met.”

“Did you? I didn’t realize that. I used to come to visit in the summers for a couple of weeks, but never for terribly long.”

“That would explain why I don’t remember you.” He shot her a boyish grin, and for a moment she thought he might be flirting, but then he looked away. “Your grandmother was a nice lady. She used to bring us homemade cookies at the firehouse.”

“That sounds like Grandma.” Rachel chuckled. “She fed absolutely everyone.”

She also had a soft spot for firefighters, something that Ed had always appreciated.

“No complaints here.” Matt crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “She made the best macaroons in town. That included my own grandmother’s macaroons.”

“That’s some high praise, then.” Rachel smiled. “This seems like a great place for a kid to grow up.”

“The best.” Something flickered deep in his eyes at those words, but before she could think more of it, a window scraped open on the second floor over their heads, and Christopher’s voice hollered down, “Mom!”

Rachel trotted down the steps to look up at her son’s smiling face.

“Are you exploring up there?” Rachel asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, I found old hats.”

“That’s fun.”

“And a really big spider.”

Rachel shuddered. “Don’t touch it.”

“I can’t reach it,” Chris replied, which meant that he’d have caught it already if it had been lower to the floor. She could be thankful for small mercies.

“Mr. Bailey came by to say hello,” she said, and Matt ambled up next to her, his warm arm emanating heat against her slender shoulder.

“Hi.” Chris’s tone turned shyer.

“I was hoping I could take you and Chris out for dinner tonight,” Matt said, his gaze moving from Rachel to Chris and back again. “If you aren’t busy, that is.”

“Actually Aunt Louise is cooking for us,” she replied. “It would have been nice, though.”

“How about tomorrow evening?” he asked.

Rachel nodded with a smile. “That would work. Thanks. I’m sure Chris would like the chance to talk to you a bit more.”

“I don’t know what to say to Chris, but I’ll do my best,” he confessed, his tone dropping low enough for her ears alone.

Rachel shrugged. “Don’t worry too much. You’re already a hero in his eyes.”

A smile slid across his rugged features and he looked up at the boy in the open window. “See you later, Chris. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

Chris wordlessly raised his hand in a wave, and Matt turned back to Rachel.

“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?”

Rachel paused, uncertainty flickering deep inside her. This felt too familiar already, too intimate, and dating was the furthest from her intentions. She had a little boy who needed some stability right now, and this handsome firefighter didn’t exactly fit into her plans for some peace and quiet. Besides, she’d been married to a firefighter once already, and loving him as she had, she’d promised herself that she’d never marry another one. She didn’t think she could handle losing another man she loved to the perils of the job.

“Why don’t we meet you at the restaurant?” she countered.

He nodded. “Sure. Does Chris like pizza?”

“Yes!” Chris hollered from the window above, and Rachel chuckled.

“You have your answer there.”

“Great. Alphonzo’s Pizza is on the corner of Main Street, right across from the drugstore. Do you know the place I mean?”

Rachel held up her phone. “I’ll find it with my GPS. How does six o’clock sound?”

“Perfect. See you then.” He shot her a grin, then ambled back toward his truck. With his hand on the door handle, he turned back and called up to the second-story window, “Chris, they’ve got ice cream, too. Just saying.”

Rachel smothered a laugh and watched as Matt hopped up into the cab of the white pickup, a red fire-department seal emblazoned across the side. The vehicle roared to life and he pulled away from the curb. As she turned back toward the house, Rachel stopped short when she saw her aunt standing in the doorway.

“You startled me.” She chuckled. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I know.” Louise raised an eyebrow teasingly and turned back into the house. “Handsome young fellow, isn’t he?”

“He’s a firefighter, Auntie. It’s not going to happen.”

“I always liked firefighters... So did Grandma,” Louise pointed out with exaggerated casualness.

Rachel rolled her eyes and followed her aunt indoors.

“I know, I know...”

And so it starts, she thought wryly. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that a town filled with aunts, uncles and distant cousins would never sit idly by and leave her business alone. That was too much to ask.

Chapter Two

As Matt pulled away, he glanced back at the old house. It needed paint—and a lot more—to look decent again, but he could already see the spark of a family in the old place. Stacks of boxes were visible in the windows, and a pile of cardboard sat outside the garage. If memory served, the big oak tree in the front yard used to have a tire swing that all the neighborhood kids made use of, and he idly wondered if Rachel would put up another one for Chris. Maybe he was already too old for a tire swing. Matt wasn’t exactly in the know when it came to kids. He was the kind of relative who gave his cousins’ kids cash when he saw them because he could never quite remember their birthdays and wanted to make sure he covered his bases.

Matt glanced at the old houses on either side of the street, flower gardens in bloom. A few of the homes sported American flags, rippling proudly in the summer wind, and he sighed. If he got this job, he had to admit, he would miss Haggerston.

His cell phone rang, and he glanced down at the number as he slowed to a stop at an intersection. It was his brother. Matt put the phone on speaker, tossed it onto the seat beside him and eased the vehicle forward again.

“Hi, Craig,” he said.

“Hey, how did that interview go?” his brother asked.

“Really good. They’re taking me seriously.”

“Fantastic.”

“But that wasn’t the most interesting part of my day,” he admitted.

“Oh, yeah?” Craig pried.

“Do you remember that time a few years ago when a baby was dropped off on the doorstep of the firehouse?”

“I think so.”

“Well, he’s back.”

“The baby?”

“Yeah.” Matt chuckled. “Well, he’s about seven now. His adoptive mother moved into town, and they stopped by the firehouse to say hi. I guess she wanted to show him where he was found.”

“How’s the kid doing?”

“Okay.” He paused. “Maybe not so well. His mom says that her husband died a few years ago, and the kid only recently found out that he’s adopted, so that’s been pretty hard on him.”

“Ouch. I’ll bet.”

“So I stopped by their place to—” Matt cringed. This still sounded very much like a date. “I asked them out to dinner.”

“Is that a good idea? They just moved here, and you’re planning to move on.”

“Not like that,” Matt grumbled. “I know how it sounds. I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to Chris, and I wanted to chat with him a bit. His mother seems to think it will help.”

He signaled at the next stop sign and took a left toward the main road. The houses in this direction were smaller and the yards not as well tended. He knew several of the people on this street, however. Living his entire life in one town had that effect.

“And what about the mother?” his brother pressed.

“What about her?” Matt dodged.

“Still single?”

“Yes, still single,” he replied. “And before you ask, yes, she’s pretty.”

“Aha.”

“Oh, cut it out.” Matt laughed and slowed for another corner. “She’s the widow of a firefighter from Billings, so I feel like I owe her something. It’s not romantic, I swear.”

There was a muffled voice in the background, and then his brother came back. “Gloria’s inviting you to our place for dinner,” Craig said. “Are you interested? I could pop another steak on the barbecue.”

The thought of a barbecue steak made Matt’s stomach rumble, and he chuckled. “Twist my arm, man. I’m on my way. Can I pick up anything?”

“No, we’re ready to go. Just get down here, because I’m hungry.”

“Okay, I’m ten minutes away.”

Matt hung up and smiled ruefully. He’d miss his brother and his wife, too, if he moved out of town. Craig and Gloria had him over for dinner about as often as he’d let them. He begged off more often than not, preferring to give them time to themselves, being newlyweds and all.

He eased forward again and glanced toward the squat elementary school. Brand-new play equipment sprawled on one side of the building, a green field on the other side. A sign in front of the building announced student registration days and encouraged everyone to “Find adventure in reading this summer.” The scars from the fire were cleaned away, and this September, Broxton Park Elementary would reopen for the first time since that tragic day.

He had no idea what anyone else saw when they looked at that building, but in his mind’s eye he still saw the billowing smoke pouring out of broken windows. He still heard the frightened screams of children, the wail of sirens and the desperate, clinging questions of the parents standing in shocked groups on the sidewalk.

He’d fought fires for most of his adult life, and the very thought of a blazing inferno only got his adrenaline pumping and made him twitch to jump into his boots. This school represented more than a fire, though. It represented his own personal failure and the death of a child.

Matt heaved a sigh as he passed the building and crossed another intersection. This school always affected him the same way. His stomach curdled and sweat sprang out on his palms. He knew he was a good firefighter. He knew he’d followed all the protocol possible in that fire, and he knew that he wasn’t liable or at fault, but somehow that didn’t change a thing.

Matt willed his pounding heart to quiet, and he signaled for another turn onto his brother’s street.

He’d eat steak. He’d compliment his sister-in-law’s pasta salad, and he’d jokingly rebuff all of Gloria’s attempts to set him up and get him married. It was Wednesday night, and he knew the drill.

Lord, he prayed silently, I need this job.

* * *

The next evening, the aroma of pizza drifted down Main Street, mingling with the scent of the hanging planters that hung from lampposts, dripping a lazy rhythm from a recent watering. Alphonzo’s Pizza crouched on one corner, nestled up against Duggar Jewelers. Golden sunlight bathed the street, contrasting with the long shadows. Six o’clock constituted dinnertime in Haggerston, and the streets were deserted, save for the rumble of the odd pickup truck. Almost all of the local businesses had closed up shop for the evening, with the exception of Alphonzo’s Pizza.

Inside the restaurant, Rachel and Chris sat at a table in the far corner, listening to the distant din of the kitchen. A paper menu in the center of the table showed the meal options—everything from pizza to chop suey—and Chris fiddled with the corner, a bored look on his face.

“Hi, hon,” a young waitress crooned, pulling a pad of paper from her pocket. “What can I get you to start?”

“Could we get my son a pop?” she asked. “What kind, sweetie?”

“Orange, please.”

“Sure thing.” The waitress jotted it down. “And for you?”

“Actually we’re waiting for someone, so maybe I’ll wait until he arrives.”

As if on cue, the bell above the door tinkled and Matt stepped inside, pulling off his sunglasses. He was out of uniform today, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue polo shirt that strained slightly around his biceps. He glanced around the restaurant, his steely gaze falling on them.

“Oh, here he is,” Rachel said and smiled up at Matt as he approached the table. He slid into the chair opposite Rachel, and while they ordered soft drinks and a pepperoni pizza, she found herself studying his face. A pale scar cut past one eyebrow, a detail she hadn’t noticed earlier. He seemed gentler out of uniform, more accessible, less official. His sun-bleached hair had a touch of premature gray working through the front, and as he leaned his elbows on the tabletop, the scent of aftershave lingered.

“So, how are you liking Haggerston?” Matt asked after the waitress left the table.

“I’ve always loved this town,” she said. “I wanted to move here years ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“My husband was with the Billings Fire Department, and he was happy there. He was climbing.” She shrugged. “What can you do?”

He nodded. “It’s hard to move on once your life is rooted somewhere else. I get that.”

“This is the perfect tiny town. The flowers on the street corners, the shops where everyone knows each other—”

“You like the idea of everyone knowing you?” he asked with a wry smile.

“Maybe?” She laughed softly. “In some ways it’s comforting, but I’m sure there is a flip side to the coin. What about you? How long have you lived here?”

“I grew up here, so if I’m not related to someone, I probably know them somehow.” He grinned. “Our waitress babysits my cousin’s kids.”

“Seriously?” Rachel looked back at the young woman taking another table’s order. “It’s a small world.”

“It’s a small town,” he corrected with a low laugh.

“Did you know my mom, Mr. Bailey?” Chris locked his gaze on the firefighter’s face, all the intensity of his seven years focused on the man across the table from him, and Rachel shifted uncomfortably. She knew that her son had questions, and it looked as though he was ready to ask a few of them.

“I just met her the other day, with you,” Matt replied, his gaze flickering toward Rachel.

“No, I mean my other mom,” he pressed. “The one who left me at the firehouse. Did you know her?”

Rachel’s stomach dropped. He’d been asking about his birth mother lately, and she somehow hoped that he would never need to know more about the woman than she’d already told him and that she could be enough. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t have the answers, either. All she wanted right now was to be able to fill in the gaps for him, to help soothe his unease and confusion.

“Uh...” Matt looked up at Rachel uncertainly, then back to the boy’s earnest gaze. “I never did find out who she was, buddy. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Chris shrugged. “I just wondered.”

“You have a really good mom right here,” Matt said. “She loves you a whole lot.”

“Yeah, I love her, too.” Chris leaned back in his chair, but his eyes were still clouded.

The food arrived. A large pepperoni pizza oozing melted cheese and still sizzling from the oven was deposited in the center of the table. After everyone was served and Chris took a big bite of pizza, Rachel sucked in a deep breath.

“I know that Chris wants to hear about how he was found,” she said. Chris’s attention snapped up.

“Sure.” Matt cleared his throat. “Do you know anything about that night, Chris?”

“A little bit,” the boy replied past a cheek full of food.

“I was working the night shift, and I was watching a training video. Someone buzzed downstairs—a woman—asking me to come down. I didn’t know what to expect, so I went on down.”

“Was that my mom?” Chris asked after swallowing.

Every time Chris referred to his birth mother as “his mom,” it stung just a little. Rachel had imagined these conversations countless times over the years, but she’d never fully appreciated how difficult it was for a mother to share her child. She should have been discussing this with him long ago, and if she hadn’t been so crushed by Ed’s death, she would have.

“I’m assuming so,” Matt said with a nod. “When I got down there, she was gone, and you were there. In a box.”

“Was I small?”

“You were pretty tiny, buddy.”

“Did I cry?”

“A little bit. You were hungry.”

“So you fed me?”

“We had some bottles and formula on hand in case of emergency, and I guess you counted as an emergency. So I sat in a big armchair, and I fed you your bottle. You slurped that thing back like nobody’s business, and then you settled in for a nice nap.”

“How long did you hold him for?” Rachel asked softly.

“It took about three hours for Social Services to arrive. So I just sat there and held him. He was cold.” He glanced at Rachel uneasily, and she suspected there was more to the story, details he couldn’t share in front of Chris.

“What’s that services thing?” Chris asked.

“Social Services take care of people when they need help. They came to get you, and they found you a good home where you would be safe and loved. That’s how your mom and dad got you.”

“We got a call that night.” Rachel continued the story. “They said a baby needed a safe home, and they asked if we’d take care of you. We drove down and picked you up, and I knew the moment I saw you that I’d never let you go.”

“But what about my mom?” Chris asked, and Rachel pushed back the sting.

“I don’t know, Chris,” she said quietly. “Your birth mother left you at the fire station, and no one ever found out who she was. But I know that she wanted you to be safe. She brought you to the one place she could be sure that someone would take care of you.”

Chris put his attention back into his pizza, and when Rachel glanced back in Matt’s direction, she found his warm gaze enveloping her. He reached across the table and took her hand in his broad, warm grasp, giving her a squeeze. He released her fingers almost as quickly as he’d taken them, but she was grateful for the gesture.

“Chris, I saw some video games over there in the corner,” Matt said. He leaned back in his seat and fished around in his pocket, his hand emerging with a fistful of quarters. “Do you want to try them?”

“Can I, Mom?” Chris turned bright, exuberant eyes onto Rachel, the previous heaviness apparently forgotten.

She smiled and nodded. “Sure, sweetie. Have fun.”

Chris accepted the quarters into his cupped palms and headed off toward the video games. They looked almost antique—Pac-Man, some racing games and a claw that dipped into a vat of dusty plush toys. He looked so grown up, standing there with his quarters, and yet so small, all at once.

This move to Haggerston was supposed to give Chris the stability he craved, yet even here, she felt his struggle. He couldn’t put words to it—he was too young to even try. She knew what was in his heart, though.

Who did he belong to?

And her heart replied with every beat, You belong to me.

* * *

Matt leaned his elbows on the table and stabbed at some ice cubes in his glass with a straw. Rachel looked toward her son, and when her gaze flickered back in his direction, color rose in her cheeks. She was gorgeous—and every time emotion sparkled in those dark eyes, he found his thoughts sliding into dangerous territory.

“He’s growing up so fast,” she said.

Matt nodded. “I can only imagine.”

“He’s been asking about his birth mother a lot lately.” She breathed a sigh. “This isn’t easy.”

“She did what was best for him,” he said. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Chris, but he was in rough shape when I found him. He was in a wet cardboard box. His sleeper was soaked, his diaper was dirty and his bottle was rancid. He shivered in my arms for a full hour, and he drank bottle after bottle. I doubt he was getting enough milk before he was dropped off at the firehouse. He was so desperate for human touch that once he figured I’d protect him, he wouldn’t let anyone else touch him.”

She froze at those words, and he immediately regretted them. “I’m sorry. That was probably too blunt.”

“No, no...” She shook her head, blinking back the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I was told about his condition by the authorities, but hearing it from you—” She swallowed, not finishing the thought.

Idiot, he chastised himself. She didn’t need to hear it like that.

“She brought him to the right place,” he said, his voice low. “And he went to the right home.”

Her dark gaze met his, and he was struck by those liquid eyes. Long lashes brushed her cheekbones with each blink, and a soft pink tinged her cheeks. She gave a weak shrug.

“I’d do anything for him. He’s really struggling.”

“You’re a good mom,” he replied. “He’ll be okay.”

She nodded and sucked in a deep breath. “I think Haggerston is just what Chris needs. I keep saying that, but I really do believe it. Sometimes a fresh start is just the ticket.”

Her words struck on the deepest longing inside him, too. She wanted to start over here in Haggerston, and he wanted to start over as far from this town as he could get, but they both wanted the same thing. They wanted to leave behind the old barbs and wounds and start over again—get another kick at the can without the pain that weighed them down. Was it even possible? He sure hoped so, because it was his last hope.

“Couldn’t agree more.” He reached for another slice of pizza.

“I was wondering about something.” She paused, a frown creasing her brow. “When they hired me at Broxton Park Elementary, they mentioned that it had a fire a few years ago.”

Matt nodded. “A big one.”

“That’s scary. Were you there for it?”

“Yeah.” There for it was an understatement. He returned to that dreadful morning in his dreams, where he endlessly searched with his gloved hands, through the murky darkness. He pushed back the memories.

“That had to be terrifying for everyone. How do you do that?” Her thoughtful gaze moved over his face.

“It’s my job.”

“I know, but...” She paused, her intent eyes fixed on him. “Aren’t you scared in situations like that?”

“I’m well trained.” The training was intense. A firefighter learned to react before he felt, to obey an order and question it later. Like in the military, a quick response to command was the secret to success, and for a firefighter, success meant getting everyone out alive.

“I understand the training because my husband went through it, but I never could quite understand how someone could subvert every instinct in his body telling him to get out of there. That’s just simple self-preservation.”

She was right about that, but it was something they didn’t talk about. Being afraid was part of the job, but if they talked about it and fed it, then they were useless in the face of an emergency. Firefighters didn’t talk about fear; they talked about preparation.

“I’m suited up, I’ve got a buddy system and I’m much better prepared for that heat than the victims are. I’m pretty much just focused on finding people and getting them out.”

“You must have a lot of stories.”

Matt chuckled. “Most of the job is paperwork. We do prefire inspections, public education, that sort of thing. I do a lot of reports. Like this restaurant, for example.”

He glanced around them, quickly estimating the risks in the room. Rachel looked around the dining room, following his gaze.

“There are two exits—the door I came in, and a door out the back.” He hooked a thumb toward the front door. “These tables would be like an obstacle course, especially through the smoke. The kitchen is worse, but those prefire safety inspections give us a lay of the land, so to speak. We want to know a building’s layout before we have to stampede in there in full gear. We have a job, and we know what we have to do.”

“So you’re saying you’re too focused to get scared?” she asked.

He chuckled again, amused at her tenacity. She wasn’t going to let this go, was she? He shrugged. “We’re too well trained to admit to it.”

Rachel was silent for a moment. “So, was that the training taking over the first day we met you?”

He raised an eyebrow, considering. “I guess so, yeah. I’ve learned to lean back on the training when I feel—” He stopped, uncertain of even how to decipher the complicated emotions he felt when seeing Chris again for the first time.

“Scared?” she suggested.

He shrugged. “Scared? Maybe. Nervous. Uncertain. Off balance. Anyway, I either knock down doors or spout statistics. As you found out.” He smiled and she laughed softly.

“It makes sense. And thank God for your training—it saves lives.”

“Not enough lives,” he replied. All the training in the world couldn’t bring back Natalie Martin. He’d seen countless school pictures around town of the little girl, clean and brightly smiling. That wasn’t the face seared into his memory, however. He would always remember the face smeared with grime, eyes streaming from the smoke and her hair a tangled mess. He’s see her ashen cheeks as she lay unconscious in his arms. He couldn’t remember what he felt in those exact moments. He felt it later, when he lay in his bed that night after the fire had been extinguished, the day’s events playing through his mind. That was when the reality of the situation hit him.

“Amen to that,” she said quietly, and his gaze snapped up to meet hers. He’d momentarily forgotten about her husband, and he winced.

“I’m sorry. I forgot about your husband.”

She shook her head. “I have to admit, I’m still angry about his death.”

“It was pointless,” he said.

“Exactly. Pointless. But that’s what firefighters do. They put themselves in harm’s way in order to save people.”

“Did they save lives that day?” he asked. The risk was worth it if lives were saved—that was what kept a firefighter going.

“The truck driver didn’t make it out...” She looked away toward her son, playing video games. “They both died that day.”

No rescues. Two deaths. His stomach sank.

“When you’re in that kind of situation,” he said, “your training has to move faster than your emotions do. You let your brain catch up when there’s time. Your husband was in the zone. He wouldn’t have been afraid, if that helps you at all.”

“It does, actually.”

He could tell that she hadn’t made her peace with everything yet, and he couldn’t blame her. It had been a year since Natalie Martin’s death, and he still hadn’t made his peace with it. She hadn’t been the first person to die in a fire, and she wouldn’t be the last. They were only people putting it all on the line for other people’s families, but somehow this one little girl had gotten past all his defenses.

“Are you a Christian, Matt?”

Matt pulled his mind back from the precipice. “I am.”

“Me, too.” Rachel’s gaze roamed over the restaurant, settling on her son across the room. “Does it help?”

“I suppose my faith is a part of everything I do,” he said quietly. “But even faith doesn’t answer every question, does it?”

“I suppose not.” She pushed her glossy waves away from her face. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

“There are people who have gone through far worse than I ever have.”

An image of Natalie’s grief-stricken parents arose in his mind. They’d been in shock, their faces white, their eyes begging him to take it all away as if that fire-retardant suit gave him supernatural power. But he couldn’t. Natalie was part of the reason why he needed to learn about children. Natalie had run from him when he came to rescue her...and he never wanted that to happen again.

“Look,” Matt said, tearing his mind away from those old wounds. “Do you think you could give me some of those tips for working with kids?”

“Now?” She took a sip of her pop.

“How about tomorrow? If that isn’t too soon.”

“I’d be happy to.” She nodded. “I can bring by a few resources, if I find the right box tonight. What time works for you?”

“How about two at my office?”

She smiled. “Sure.”

Chris came dashing back across the room, zigzagging around tables. He arrived at their table, out of breath and with a grin on his face.

“I won something!” He held up a small stuffed rabbit in a victorious display. As the boy exuberantly showed his mother his hard-won prize, Matt fell gratefully silent. He’d done enough talking, more than he’d ever intended. He took a deep breath, mentally steeling himself.

“It’s really hard to get one,” Chris was explaining. “It came down like this—” He used his hand to mime the game. “And then it went like this...”

Rachel’s gaze flickered in Matt’s direction and her gentle eyes crinkled into a smile. Before he could catch himself, he felt his own return grin tickling the corners of his lips. He picked up the dessert menu, a sundae awash in chocolate sauce and crowned with fluffy whipped cream emblazoned across the top.

“Let’s order that ice cream. What do you say?”

Chapter Three

The next afternoon, Rachel leaned back in the chair across from Matt’s desk. The air-conditioning felt good after a morning of unpacking in the overheated house. Most people had personal effects in their work space, but Matt didn’t seem to have much. No pictures of pets or family, no crayon artwork, no tacky gag gifts. This space shone clean and efficient. Her desk at school was always covered with “I love my teacher” gifts and eraser collections. The kids liked to come look at her desk, and she’d use the erasers as rewards for good behavior through the year. Perhaps it was her background in elementary education, but this amount of order seemed sad. Everyone needed a little love, and love, most often, came in the form of some organized chaos.

Then again, that might be the mother in her, too.

Matt leaned forward, catching her eye as her gaze swung back to where the big firefighter sat across from her in his desk.

“And this will work?” he asked.

“Teaching is less of a science and more of an art,” she admitted, pulling her mind back to her purpose in this pristine space. “When you have the same class every day, you learn which children get distracted more easily and which catch on more quickly. But when you have a different group of children every day, it’s more challenging.”

She’d been giving him a quick introduction to elementary-aged teaching, and he’d taken a few notes and questioned her for the past half hour. He seemed serious about this, which impressed her. Not many people worked so hard to improve their weak areas.

“So you’re saying to keep them engaged individually, and that will encourage them to pay attention.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “If you call on kids randomly to ask them questions, ask their opinion or just use them in an example, the kids will want to listen because they might get your attention next. There will always be a few who distract the class, but at least you’ll have most of their attention.”

“So this is pretty much on-the-fly decision making.”

“Pretty much,” she agreed. “It takes a little practice, but it works.”

“What about a problem kid?” he asked.

“A ringleader of sorts?”

“Exactly. How do you deal with one causing trouble?”

“Engage him. You don’t have time to discipline or anything like that. You’re trying to give them information in a way that they’ll remember it. That’s all. You won’t be seeing these kids again, so don’t make it into a power struggle. You want to get the ringleader’s attention and ask him for his opinion about something. Don’t make it into a punishment. Ask him honestly. You’ll have the entire class’s attention, including your ringleader. That’s priceless.”

“Great,” he said, jotting something down on paper.

“And then there is always The Look. Most of the time a warning is better than a punishment. It takes a bit of practice, but it’s useful.”

“Let’s see it.”

Rachel shot Matt her most teacherly look of warning. He froze, eyes locked on her, and his lips slightly parted.

“Yikes.” He rose to his feet and chuckled. “Seriously, that’s some potent stuff there. Be careful where you point that. I’m not sure what for, but I feel mildly guilty now...and I have this urge to raise my hand before I speak.”

“Oh, good, I haven’t lost it,” she joked.

“I’m not even sure I could reproduce that,” he confessed. He shot her a serious and mildly quizzical look. “That’s all I’ve got. That’s the look I give my firefighters under me when they do something really dumb. But yours—that’s a thing of art.”

“Yeah, it’s not the same,” she agreed with a wry smile. “Maybe it’s a mom thing.”

Matt shot her a grin, then glanced at his watch. “I’m officially done here for the day. Do you have anywhere you need to be?”

“I promised myself I’d go for a walk this afternoon and get some exercise,” she replied, pushing herself to her feet. “That’s about it.”

“Care for some company?” His clear gaze met hers and a smile turned up the corners of his lips.

Part of her knew she should decline his tempting offer, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. “Sure.”

She glanced around the office once more in an attempt to distract herself. He turned off his computer and dropped a few papers into a filing cabinet, his muscular arms flexing as he stretched to reach a file folder.

“Matt, you have the most sterile office I’ve ever seen,” she said.

“Do I?” He looked around. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I can’t tell anything about you by looking at this space. There are no pictures...nothing.”

“The way I like it.” He shot her a teasing grin.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer as they headed down the hallway and into the reception area. The receptionist looked up with a tired smile, but her gaze flickered in Rachel’s direction with interest.

“Good night, Joyce,” Matt said over his shoulder.

“Good night,” she replied, then shot Rachel a sugary smile. “You take care of him, now.”

Rachel wasn’t sure how to answer that and opted for silence. As they exited the door into the summer sunlight, she glanced up at Matt questioningly.

“And that is exactly why I keep things private.” He chuckled. “In a place this size, everyone’s curious.”

A cool breeze whisked by, lifting her dark hair over her face. She pulled her fingers through her hair, holding it back as she glanced up at him.

“A few photos around the office might put the rumors to rest,” she suggested.

“Photos of what?” He shrugged. “My last vacation that I took alone? A picture of me taken by another tourist? No, that’s just depressing.”

“Don’t you have a cat or a dog?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Maybe a picture of your mom, then.” She shot him a grin.

“Absolutely not.” Matt laughed. “That’s how a guy gets to be known as a mama’s boy.”

“Is that so terrible?” she joked.

“That’s coming from a mother,” he replied with a chuckle. “I love my mom, and she knows it. When I get married, I’ll put my wife’s picture on my desk. Happy?”

“It’ll have to do.”

“Trust me, the mystery is better than the reality.”

“And what’s the reality?”

“A whole lot of work and not much of a social life.” His eyes crinkled up into a smile. “I might need to get a dog so people stop feeling sorry for me.”

The sun peeked from behind a cloud, then disappeared again. Clouds were moving in, the air cooling. The hum of a lawn mower floated over the breeze, bringing along with it the scent of freshly cut grass. The fire station was on the corner of a well-established residential area, and they angled their steps down a tree-lined street, Matt with his hands in his pockets and Rachel sauntering beside him. The houses on either side of them were small bungalows, and the trees that stretched over the road were mature. Matt glanced in her direction.

“Thanks for all your help today. I owe you one.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I feel a little bad for the rumors your receptionist is about to start...”

He grinned. “It’s inevitable.”

“But she’s new, right?” she asked. “Maybe she’ll be properly in awe of you and restrain herself.”

“I doubt it.” He laughed. “She might be new to the firehouse, but she’s also the church pianist. The familiarity is already there.”

“You really can’t win, can you?” she teased.

A cooler breeze enveloped her in a chilly embrace. Clouds rolled in more quickly now, a dark, smudgy blanket moving over the town, carrying with it the electric scent of promised rain.

“With all the people you know around town,” she began, “why did you ask me to help you? I’m sure you know teachers and day-care providers, and—”

He looked down at her, regret swimming in his clear eyes. “I’ve applied for a job across the state,” he said. “It’s not definite, so I need to be discreet. Anyone else would pass the word in a heartbeat.”

She attempted to cover her surprise by looking down. So he wasn’t planning on sticking around Haggerston anyway. That would be a good thing to keep in mind when Chris got to know him.

“Oh...” She cleared her throat.

“I hope that isn’t crass.” He grimaced. “I’m not suggesting that you have no friends—”

She attempted to smile casually. “No, I get it. It’s no problem. I’ll keep that little detail to myself.” It wasn’t her place to pass around rumors, and she wasn’t naive about the speed of gossip in a place this size.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

So he was heading out of town, if all went according to plan. It was good to know, and it helped. Matt Bailey was charming and handsome, and it certainly gave her more willpower to know that he wasn’t going to stick around—not that she actually needed any more excuses to stay out of a relationship. Chris had gone through enough changes lately, and she doubted he could handle it if his mom started dating. Besides, a firefighter’s life held no mystery for her. She knew all about the long hours, the middle-of-the-night calls to fill in for someone who was sick, the constant danger and the wear and tear on a marriage. That uniform might be appealing, but the lifestyle was not.

As if on cue, thunder rumbled overhead and Rachel squinted up at the ever-darkening clouds.

“It’s going to rain,” Matt said. “Come on.”

“Shouldn’t we head back?” she asked, quickening her pace to keep up with his long stride.

“This is closer,” he replied. “I live just down Oak Street.”

Rachel ducked her head against the first mist of rain and she grimaced inwardly. Rain and moisture were going to do a number on her straightened hair.

I’m the mother of a first grader, still worrying about my hair blowout.

A clap of thunder boomed overhead, and with it came a deluge of rain, pounding down onto them like a thousand tiny fists. Matt scooped up her hand in his and broke into a jog, tugging her along, pulling her closer against his broad, muscular shoulder.

“We’re going to be drenched!” Rachel laughed breathlessly. Water dripped down her face, slicking her fuchsia T-shirt against her skin. Matt’s hand tightened around hers as they crossed a street, his head ducked against the rain.

“Looks like.” He chuckled, the sound warm and deep. “Don’t worry. I’ve got coffee.”

As they jumped over a puddle already forming by the curb, Matt pointed to a little house across the next street, a white-trimmed bungalow, blurred by the falling rain.

“Almost there.” His voice was low and close to her ear. With another boom of thunder, they made the last dash toward shelter.

* * *

Matt unlocked the front door and they stumbled inside just as another flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed seconds later by a deafening peal of thunder. Their footsteps echoed in the entryway, and he flicked on a light to compensate for the premature darkness of the storm. He normally kept a pretty clean house, but he did a quick glance around to make sure he hadn’t left a T-shirt on the sofa or his barbells on the floor from his morning workout that would betray his manly ways. Rachel stepped inside and shivered. Her hair dripped, the previously smooth waves springing up into sodden curls.

She has curly hair.

He wasn’t sure why this discovery made him smile, but it did.

Rachel looked down at the puddle she’d made on the floor. Her jeans were dark with rain and goose bumps prickled across her arms.

“I’m making a mess,” she said.

“No more than I am,” he replied. His uniform clung to his arms and legs, a steady trickle of water meandering down his back. “Tell you what. If it wouldn’t be too awkward, let me give you some of my clothes to wear while we toss yours into the dryer.”

She contemplated for a moment, then nodded. “I don’t see a way around it. I’m drenched.”

While Rachel changed behind the locked bathroom door, Matt grabbed a fresh T-shirt and a pair of jeans for himself out of his dresser drawer. He changed quickly, tossing his wet clothes into a hamper on his way out of the bedroom, and headed toward the kitchen.

Matt grabbed the filters and coffee grounds from the cupboard, feeling more cheerful than he had felt in a while. Outside the kitchen window, the rain came down in sheets, trees heaving with the gusts of wind. His patio chairs rattled in the wind and collected pools of water on the seats, and he paused to watch the low, boiling clouds.

It didn’t matter where you went in Montana, the sky remained the same. The same summer storms swept over the state, and he couldn’t help wondering if South Maitland would be different enough to drown his memories.

“I found your dryer myself. I hope you don’t mind.”

Matt turned from the coffeemaker to find Rachel in the kitchen doorway, dwarfed in one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. Soft wisps of hair began to dry around her cheeks and spiraled into silky curls. She held up the pants with one hand and sank into a kitchen chair.

“I’ve never felt less put together.” She laughed.

“All you need is coffee,” he replied with a grin. “How do you take it?”

“Cream and sugar.”

The coffeemaker sputtered soothingly in the background. Her gaze wandered around the kitchen, sliding over his black stove and dark cupboards and stopping at his fridge.

“Aha,” she said, a triumphant smile coming to her lips. “Finally something personal.”

She crossed the kitchen and perused the photos that were stuck there with various magnets.

“Who’s this?” she asked, pointing at a wedding photo.

“My brother, Craig, and his new wife, Gloria.”

He glanced over her shoulder at the familiar photo. Craig was pulling Gloria close against him, and her head was tilting down to his shoulder. They both beamed into the camera. Matt stood next to his brother in an “at ease” stance, and the maid of honor stood in a pinkish-orange dress, her flowers clutched in front of her. Matt remembered the happiness of that afternoon. Craig and Gloria could have gotten married in a mud puddle and it wouldn’t have dampened their spirits.

“You make a very dapper best man.” She shot him a smile. “It looks like a beautiful wedding.”

“He tried to get out of it,” he said with a short laugh.

“You’re kidding.” She cast him a surprised glance.

“The morning of the wedding, he told me he was leaving town. So I did the only thing I could.”

“Called the bride?” Rachel asked.

“Duct-taped him to a kitchen chair and talked some sense into him.”

Rachel burst out laughing. “That’s an interesting solution.”

“I knew he didn’t mean it. He was just panicking. The same way he panicked before taking Tina Beuller to the prom...the same way he panicked before going to Yale. He’s that kind of guy.”

“So obviously you talked him back into the wedding,” she said, her attention moving back to the picture.

“Yeah. It didn’t take more than about ten minutes. I got him to the church on time. Never did get all the tape off his tux, though.”

“Sounds like you’ve got an interesting relationship,” she commented.

“You could say that.”

He and Craig had been rivals for most of their lives. From high school grades to girls they dated, the brothers had been neck and neck. And then they’d gone their separate ways. Matt started his firefighter training and Craig headed off to Yale Law School. Their rivalry got complicated then.

“But you’re close?” Rachel asked, pulling him back to the present.

“Yeah, we have each other’s backs.” He shrugged. “He’s blessed. He’s got a good woman there.”

“She’s pretty.”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. She understands him, and after totally figuring him out, she still wanted to marry him.”

Rachel smiled. “Sounds like he had you working for that marriage, too.”

“Gloria is intent on returning the favor and finding me a wife. She’s the matchmaking type.”

The coffee stopped sputtering and Matt turned back to the counter to pour coffee. He grabbed two mugs, both with fire-station logos across the side. He glanced back to find her still entranced by the information on his fridge. He shook his head wryly. Most people preferred to admire his backyard or the kitchen renovations, but Rachel was different.

“Who’s this?” she asked, pointing to another photo. “Your parents?”

“That’s them. They’re retired in Arizona now.”

“They look nice...”

“What about your parents?” he asked.

“They both passed away,” she replied. “My aunt is the closest family I’ve got.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She didn’t answer but slowly turned away from the refrigerator and accepted the hot mug of taupe coffee with a smile of thanks. She took a slow sip, her long lashes brushing her cheeks as she closed her eyes in a sigh of contentment.

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