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“Running that place over there,” he said, gesturing at Starlight Point and the lights just starting to show against the twilight sky, “is no easy job. Especially for someone as young as you are.”
If someone else had said the same thing, Evie might have bristled. But she’d known Ken for years and knew he wasn’t judging her. She threw back her shoulders and tilted her chin up.
“I’m not young. Ask my feet. They’ll tell you I’m fifty-seven.”
Ken laughed. “When I was your age, the only thing I was good at running was my mouth. Although I learned pretty quick to keep it shut.”
Evie stepped off the boat and tucked her purse under her arm. “Good night, Ken. See you on tomorrow’s run.”
“’Night.”
Evie was several feet away when Ken’s question stopped her.
“Got your new marina open for business? I wasn’t able to come to the grand opening, but I saw the pictures of it in the paper a few days ago.”
Evie’s stomach sank like change thrown in a fountain.
“Almost,” she said. “I’m just short of a few regulations and we’ll be open before summer gets too far along.”
Ken rolled his eyes. “Tell me about regulations. I was in the navy twenty-five years and hope I never see another piece of paperwork.”
It was a beautiful evening, so she took the long way around to the front of her building, which housed her sister-in-law Augusta’s bakery on the street level and condos on the second and third floors. From her third-floor window, she had a view of the bay and Starlight Point.
From a distance. Something she was just getting used to. Growing up, Evie had always wanted to be at the Point. She’d resented moving away, even a hundred miles, to attend college. Always there was a lingering fear that somehow Starlight Point would change while she was gone.
And it had. Her father’s death near the end of her junior year had changed the Point forever. The life she had imagined for herself—working alongside her dad as his accountant and financial expert—disappeared. Instead she and her siblings inherited the park overnight because their mother handed it straight to the next generation. Growing up didn’t seem like such a treat anymore.
It was a responsibility and she was taking it seriously.
On her walk, she passed the Bayside fire station where the four overhead doors were open to the warm evening air. Shiny trucks lined up. Waiting.
Sometimes Evie felt like she was waiting, too.
Right now she was waiting for a certain fire inspector to get the burr out of his boots and approve her paperwork.
Maybe he’s in there.
Evie paused on the sidewalk in front of the wide concrete apron. She knew the tiny office the former fire inspector used was just inside the front doors. She’d been there several times to meet with the former inspector, who’d initially approved her plans. All she had to do was go past the shiny red pumper truck and make a quick right.
She crossed the concrete with the stealth of a trespasser, tempted to glance around to see if anyone was looking. Not that she was committing a crime. She had business there. It was a public building. The doors were open.
When she stepped under the overhang and into the relative darkness of the station, she stopped. The interior smelled like rubber tires, engine oil and something that could only be described as fire truck. She’d spent time in the fire office at the Point when she was growing up, sitting on the engine’s bumper and talking to the firefighters. But Starlight Point was only this quiet during the dead of winter.
“Hello?” she called. A call box was mounted to the inside wall with a note instructing people to press the red button in case of emergency. Getting her marina project back on track and getting her hotel renovation plans approved seemed like an emergency to her, but she was afraid of what might happen if she pressed that button. She pictured alarms, flashing lights and men racing for trucks while they threw on helmets and coats.
That would be too much excitement after a long day working at the Point, where she was in charge of resorts and safety. There, plenty of flashing lights, screaming people on the rides and millions of details competed for her attention. The quiet of the station calmed her mind, but only one thing would solve her problem.
Just as Evie laid her hand on the door to the office of the former fire inspector, a door to her left opened and a firefighter in navy blue from head to toe emerged. Caught.
The man glared at her as if she had burst into the bathroom while he was showering. Scott Bennett. After her ride in the fire truck with him a few days ago, she had made just enough inquiries to know the dark-eyed man who’d picked her up in the rain was also the one who’d picked apart her marina project.
And he’d obviously known who she was, although he hadn’t been brave enough to own up to it in the truck. Maybe he’d been hesitant because he was on her territory.
And she was on his right now.
“You’re just the man I need to see,” she said, attempting to force a cheerful tone.
Although it seemed impossible, his scowl deepened. “Is there a fire or other emergency?”
He sounded strangely hopeful. These guys operate on adrenaline. She would have to remember that.
“My marina needs your approval to open. The boating season is limited. I’m losing money every minute the docks and restaurant are closed. So, yes,” she said. “It may not seem like an emergency to you, but it is to me.”
Scott crossed his arms and looked down at her. Although Evie was five foot ten, Scott had her by several inches. With his broad shoulders and massive forearms, he seemed even larger. Perhaps it was the scowl.
Evie was not going to be intimidated, but honey might be more convincing than vinegar. The man was in the business of helping people, after all. He isn’t the enemy, right? And he had given her a ride in the fire truck on a rainy day.
But only because she was violating the No Pedestrians rule. And she owned that fire truck anyway.
Sigh. Honey. Not vinegar.
“Thank you for the ride a few days ago. Had I known you were the new fire inspector for the city, I would have invited you to my office to talk about our apparent violations.”
“Real violations.”
Maybe honey isn’t strong enough.
“Enlighten me,” Evie suggested.
Scott didn’t move. Arms crossed, he stared her down as if willing her to get out of his fire station.
Evie expected to be arrested for trespassing at any minute. She imagined her mother, old dog in tow, showing up at the police station to bail her out.
“I have an office, too,” he said. “You can come in.”
Such a friendly invitation.
Evie stood her ground. She knew where his office was. He’d have to walk by her to get to it.
Scott carefully avoided touching her as he squeezed past to open his office door. Evie wanted to laugh out loud. She was making him uncomfortable. Of course she was.
He may think he had some pedantic fire codes on his side, but she had been operating under approval from the former inspector. And she was his employer—one of them—for the summer.
Scott flipped on a ceiling fluorescent light, and Evie glanced around the tiny space. Everything about the office said “former closet.” She’d been in there twice before, recognized the empty, dustless square on the desk where the nameplate for the former inspector used to sit. So Scott didn’t have his own nameplate declaring him the King of the Code. Perhaps she’d get him one if he ever made Employee of the Month at Starlight Point.
* * *
SCOTT LEFT THE OFFICE door open so he could listen for any calls that came in over the loudspeaker in the bay. He also felt better having an escape route in case Evie Hamilton was as ticked off as he guessed.
He gestured for her to sit in the orange plastic chair in front of his desk and retreated to take his own seat. And then he remembered the plastic chair was missing a leg. He’d discovered it by the trash bin out back and had intended to repair it in case he had visitors to his new office. There hadn’t been any visitors in the short time he’d been the owner of the office, but if anyone sat in the chair right now, it would flip and toss the person onto the concrete floor.
He pivoted, swooped and caught Evie just as the chair started to tip. She gasped, dropped her purse, and the chair clattered to the floor. Scott held her around the waist as if they had just finished a passionate dance and he was dipping her for a kiss. Her blond hair swung freely and he could see the pulse beating wildly in her neck.
Surprise. Fight or flight. A natural reaction.
His heart rate was at sprint level, too, even though emergencies were part of his daily life.
He pulled her up and let go, keeping only one hand on her arm to make sure she was steady. The last thing he needed was someone getting hurt at the fire station. In his office.
“Take my chair,” he said.
Before she could object, he reached over the desk and picked up his wooden chair. It was heavy, but he swung it up and planted it right behind his guest.
“Sit,” he said. “I, uh, hope you’re all right.”
He bent and scooped the contents of her purse back into the bag. Interesting. Cell phone. Wallet-type thing. Hand sanitizer. Sunglasses. Two name tags, both black. One with her name and one that said Ford.
Who—or what—is Ford?
He handed her the bag. Instead of going behind his desk, he leaned on the filing cabinet next to it.
“Maybe I should come back another time,” Evie said.
Her cheeks were flushed and she sat cautiously on the chair, probably afraid of another trap.
He had her off balance.
He was not going to admit he felt the same way. He took a long, slow breath, willing his heart to return to conversation mode. He shoved away from the cabinet and opened the top drawer.
“I have your file in here,” he said. “The paper part, anyway. The application is on the computer.” He gestured toward a dusty, black desktop computer that was probably old enough to buy them both a drink. Scott spread a construction diagram on the table. “Here’s your problem,” he said, pointing behind the shower house. “There’s a huge cottonwood tree blocking the fire lane.”
Evie spread long fingers over the drawing and leaned in to see it better in the dim lighting.
Her hair fell forward and Scott resisted the urge to touch it. When he’d picked her up in the fire truck, soaking wet, he’d guessed her hair would be this color if it were dry. He was right.
He had no idea why he cared about his boss’s hair.
Except it was brushing the desk in his office.
“If I do something about the fire lane behind the shower house and restaurant, would you allow us to open them both?”
How easy did he want to make this for her? It was clear that Evie Hamilton had only one priority: open her marina area.
He had only one priority, too.
“Almost,” he said. He tried to keep an even tone, but it was clear to him that Evie wanted to get past these obstacles the fastest way. Obviously the loss of revenue was a motivating factor, but it seemed like there was something more going on to make her anxious enough to drop in at the fire station way past business hours. “You need evacuation signage in the restaurant and a check valve on the fuel line. And you’re lacking clearance around the electrical panel that runs the whole building.”
“I had maintenance order the check valve. They’re installing it tomorrow.”
“And the restaurant evacuation plan?”
Evie blew out a breath and sat back in the chair. “I thought the neon exit signs made the emergency evacuation route pretty obvious.” She met his eyes and took a long, slow breath. “But I was wrong. Obviously. Maybe you could help me with the signs.”
“Of course,” he said. “That’s my job.”
Evie cocked her head and drilled him with a long stare. “How long have you had this job? I didn’t even know Marty had retired until the day before my marina was supposed to open.”
Scott shrugged. “He had some health problems and decided to hang it up. I was the only qualified guy here who wanted it.”
And he’d been darn lucky to be in the right place, right time. With a fire science degree in addition to all the required fire training, Scott was one of the few guys at the station who had the résumé for the job. Several of the older men had backed away slowly, hands up in defense when Marty tried to hand the position off to them. They hated paperwork and controversy.
Paperwork and a few terse words are nothing compared to the pain of burn scars from sloppily followed fire codes.
He had jumped at the job as if it were an arrow pointing toward his life’s mission.
“What makes you qualified?” Evie asked.
Was that a polite question or an accusation? He didn’t need to explain himself to anyone.
“What makes you qualified to run an amusement park?” he fired back.
Uh-oh. That was not how he’d intended to sound. His sister had warned him about his tone. She’d be punching him in the gut right now if she’d heard that.
Color rushed to Evie’s face and she stood abruptly. “Please draw up emergency evacuation plans for the areas that need them and put them up. You can do it on company time the next shift you work at the Point.”
“I’m there tomorrow for the afternoon shift.”
“Good. Fine. Thank you,” she said. “You can also check the fuel valve while you’re working for me, and I’ll notify you when the extra inches of clearance are added around the electrical box.”
The way she said inches made it clear she didn’t like making the change. Too bad. She would never have to find that panel in an emergency and shut it down while wearing fifteen pounds of gear and an air tank. That was his job.
“And the tree?” he asked.
“We’ll see about that.”
She picked up her purse and left his office without even a backward glance.
Scott followed her into the station and leaned on the ladder truck, watching her as she walked down the block and entered the front door of her building. She’d mentioned to him in the truck that she’d just moved to downtown Bayside.
Great. She’s right under my nose.
He stood there long enough to see the lights go on in the third-story windows. His mind locked on the sprinkler and standpipe system in that block of buildings, the location of the fire department hookup, the available hydrants along the street.
He couldn’t help it. Seeing danger everywhere he looked was imprinted on him like a scar.
CHAPTER THREE (#uad0c0979-609f-5530-9a3c-8835618016cc)
“TELL ME AGAIN why I should breathe,” Jack Hamilton said.
