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It was time to change the subject. Bryce indicated the rooms upstairs. “No, but I can see the dinner bell going off and ten hungry firefighters deciding to string you up because you didn’t make dinner when it was your turn to cook.” He flicked his thumb and forefinger at the date on the calendar that graced the side wall. Riley’s name was written in in the appropriate space.
Riley dragged his hand through his wayward chestnut-colored hair. “Hell, I forgot about that.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he looked up at his friend. “The refrigerator still empty?”
Bryce looked at him innocently, as if he didn’t know what was coming. As if they hadn’t danced this dance before a number of times. “Last I looked.”
Riley raised his eyes hopefully to Bryce’s face. The latter’s expression was deadpan. “You wouldn’t want to take my turn, would you?”
“I took your turn,” Bryce reminded him. “Last time, remember? And the time before that,” he added before Riley could protest. “The men are beginning to think you can’t cook.”
Riley sighed. He knew his limitations. “The men are right.”
Riley’s mother ran a restaurant and her cooking attracted people in droves. How this talent hadn’t been passed on was beyond Bryce. Even he had picked up a considerable number of pointers during the years he and his brother had lived with the Rileys. Riley, however, was just slightly beyond the boiling-water-without-burning-it-stage with no progress in sight. “No time like the present to learn,” Bryce commented.
Riley gave him a dark look. “That’s not what you’ll say when you’re at the hospital, having your stomach pumped.”
Bryce glanced over his shoulder toward the doorway, impulse pushing forward an idea. “Tell you what, I’ve got a few things to pick up at the grocery store myself. I’ll do the shopping for tonight. But then you’ve got to do the rest.”
It was only fair, he knew, the men each taking turns. But Riley really wished they’d give the assignment to someone who was better at it than he was. “Get something simple.”
“You read my mind.”
Riley watched his friend leave and thought of the expression he’d seen on Bryce’s face when the woman had turned down his offer.
“Only part of it, Walker,” he murmured to himself. “Only part of it.”
Bryce tucked the coloring book that was beginning to slip back more securely under his arm.
It wasn’t like him to go where he wasn’t wanted so he wasn’t altogether certain just exactly what he was doing here, standing on Lisa Billings’s doorstep, ringing her doorbell, flowers in one hand, a bag with a loaf of bread in the other and a coloring book tucked under his arm. There was also a broom leaning against the wall where he’d rested it.
He had a number of excuses ready to offer her when she asked, but explaining it to himself was a whole different matter. He wasn’t sure if he could.
It wasn’t as if he lacked female companionship. Now or ever. As Riley enjoyed ribbing him, he had more than his fair share of women ready to make themselves available to him.
There was no conceit involved. Bryce figured that women were attracted to the uniform and to resistance, both of which he possessed. He’d been a firefighter for eight years and as for the other, that had been an ongoing thing from the very first time he ever kissed a woman. He wasn’t interested in commitments and forever. He was already committed to his work and because of that, it precluded any other long-term relationships that might be headed to the altar. Any woman he ever went out with knew he was not the marrying kind. Not from any desire to remain free or to sample as many women as he could, but from a very humane standpoint. He’d been thirteen years old when his father died in the line of duty, sacrificing his life while trying to save two children from being burned to death. And then Bryce had watched, day in, day out, what that sacrifice had done to his mother. It took away the laughter from her eyes and for a while, had sent her into a depression so deep, nothing and no one could reach her.
Even when she recovered, she was never the same after his father died.
To him, marriage was a pledge in which two people promised to live the rest of their lives together. It was only natural to assume that life would be for as long a time as could possibly be managed. That didn’t mean taking on burning buildings on a regular basis, which was what he did for a living. A firefighter risked his life every day, risked the happiness of those he loved every day, pitting his life against a force of nature. And sometimes, he lost. The way his father had.
The tears Bryce saw in his mother’s eyes for a full year following his father’s death at the age of thirty-four made him silently vow never to put anyone through what his mother had suffered.
Since his heart had been set on being a firefighter from the very first time his father had brought him down to the station, Bryce thought it only right to make a choice. A home and family, or a career, but not both. So he followed one dream and gave up the other. Most of the time, it seemed like a fair tradeoff.
But every so often, he caught himself wondering what it would have been like if he had followed the other path. If he’d gone into engineering homes instead of saving them, or harnessing nature instead of battling it.
Talking to CeCe had made him wonder again. But he told himself that it was only a passing thing and that coming here this evening, after he’d gone off duty, was merely motivated out of a sense of neighborliness.
He rang the doorbell and waited. There was no response on the other side of the door, no music coming through an open window, no sound of shuffling. Maybe they’d gone out to get something to eat, he speculated. The moving van and its four men was gone.
Deciding to give it one last try, Bryce reached for the bell again when the door abruptly opened. Instead of Lisa, he found himself looking down at a woman who could have been mistaken for a slightly older version of the woman. Rather than shorts, she had on a sundress and her short, stylishly cut dark blond hair had a ribbon of gray running through it.
But she looked up at him with Lisa and CeCe’s blue eyes. “Yes?”
“I’m not sure if I have the right house, but do Lisa Billings and her daughter, CeCe, live here?” Even if he hadn’t been certain that he had the right house, one look at the woman would have assured him that he did. Still, it seemed a good enough way to begin.
Cecilia took swift measure of the handsome young man at the front door. She made decisions quickly. In her life, there hadn’t always been much time for debating.
She liked his mouth. The lines around it indicated that he was given to smiling frequently. It was a good trait. And his eyes were kind. You could tell a great deal about a man by his eyes. Her husband had had kind eyes. CeCe’s father hadn’t, but she’d found it a difficult thing to convey to Lisa at the time. You had to let your children make their own mistakes, no matter how much it pained you to watch.
“Yes.” Cecilia saw the broom leaning against the wall. The young man seemed to come with an odd assortment of things. He was holding flowers in his hand and there was some sort of thin book held flat against his side by his arm. She couldn’t begin to guess what he had in the bag. “You are selling brooms, perhaps?”
Bryce shifted his weight. It wasn’t often he felt self-conscious. “No, I—”
Curious who her mother was talking to, Lisa hurried over to the open door. “Who is it, Mother?” Peering around the door, she stopped short. “Oh God, it’s you.”
Intrigued, Cecilia stepped back from the doorway, allowing the visitor better access. “You know him?”
She hadn’t expected him to actually come over, Lisa thought. He must have watched her leave with CeCe. “It’s the fireman I told you about, the one who I found with CeCe.”
Interest transformed into something akin to pleasure. A smile bloomed on Cecilia’s face as she took hold of his wrist, drawing him into the house. “Ah, please come in, yes?”
Lisa’s immediate response was, “No,” but it was already too late. Her mother was shutting the door, after pulling the firefighter inside.
Chapter Three
There’d only been just enough time for him to grab the broom before Bryce had found himself being pulled into the house by the diminutive woman who had clamped her hands around his wrist. She was surprisingly strong, given her size.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently, trying not to laugh. Obviously her mother and her daughter were a lot freer spirits than Lisa Billings was.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bryce saw CeCe come running into the room. The moment she saw him, she clapped her hands together in pure delight. Her grin was wide and welcoming.
Unlike, he noted, her mother’s expression. Nobody had to tell him that Lisa wasn’t happy about this turn of events, or the lack of immediate support she had.
CeCe fairly bounced in front of him, her eyes shining. “Hi, Bryce.”
Lisa didn’t want CeCe getting too friendly with the intrusive firefighter, even if this was just a onetime visit.
“Mr. Walker,” she corrected.
A little of the sunlight in CeCe’s eyes abated. Bryce was quick to wave Lisa’s admonishment aside. Too many children called him by his first name for CeCe to be singled out this way.
“That’s too much of a mouthful for someone her size, Lisa. Bryce is fine.”
Lisa didn’t like him calling her by her first name. It made this conversation entirely too personal. Besides, she had the feeling that he was conveying more to her than just a name preference when he said that Bryce was fine, but there was no way she was about to allow herself to be drawn into any sort of wordplay over that.
In the larger scheme of things, it was all a moot point. It wasn’t as if the man was going to be someone they interacted with on a regular basis. As soon as she managed to usher him on his way, she didn’t expect to ever see Bryce Walker again, barring a fire somewhere in the immediate area.
But before she could say anything, her mother was taking charge of the situation.
“Well, then, Bryce,” Cecilia said, smiling at him, “we were just about to sit down to dinner. Perhaps you will join us?”
For a second, the air left her lungs. Lisa felt completely outflanked. She knew from experience that sending her mother a glaring look would be utterly wasted on the woman, so she didn’t even bother—as much as she wanted to.
Instead she drew herself up and sent the withering look in Bryce’s direction. The last thing she needed at the tail end of a trying day was an invasion by an unwanted guest, no matter how handsome he was.
“I’m sure Mr. Walker has to be somewhere else, Mother.”
He returned the withering look with a long, slow appraisal that started at the top of her head and wound its way down to her bare toes. Lisa felt as if she suddenly had nothing on and felt all the hotter for it.
“No,” he assured her quietly, “as a matter of fact, I don’t.”
Triumphant, Cecilia hooked her arm through Bryce’s. She looked back at her daughter. “See?”
A thread of satisfaction wound through her words that she didn’t bother to hide. As far as Cecilia was concerned, Lisa had been hiding behind her work and her family in an effort to barricade herself away from the rest of the world and deny the fact that she had a heart that could still be hurt. If nothing was risked, nothing was gained.
Cecilia glanced at the broom Bryce was still holding. “By the way, what is all this you bring with you?”
“Yes,” Lisa seconded the question, her eyes sweeping over the bag he held in his other hand. “Just why are you dragging a broom around? Are you moonlighting as a broom salesman?” Maybe if she insulted him, he’d go away.
But instead of being insulted, he flashed a grin at her. “You and your mother think alike.”
Not hardly, Lisa thought, swallowing a groan. To her surprise, he presented the broom to her.
“It’s for you. A housewarming gift,” he explained when she only stared at it.
She raised her eyes to his face, wondering what he was up to. “I already have a broom. And a vacuum cleaner,” she added, in case he had one waiting in his car.
“Lisa, if the man wants to give you a broom, you must be polite and take it,” Cecilia told her kindly, taking the broom from Bryce as if he had just presented her with the crown jewels of England.
Bryce couldn’t read Lisa’s expression, but he figured he could take a calculated guess what was going on in her mind. Being a firefighter made him sensitive to highly volatile situations.
Time to defuse the moment, he thought. “Actually it’s an old tradition.” Lisa looked at him blankly. “The broom’s symbolic,” he told her. “You give someone moving into a new home a broom to sweep away any evil spirits that might still be lurking around, left over from the old tenants. And the loaf of bread—” he handed the bag he’d brought to Lisa “—is so that you never go hungry.”
She vaguely remembered hearing or reading about the tradition. But Bryce didn’t strike her as the kind of person who went in for old-fashioned customs. Looking at him uncertainly, she glanced inside the bag. It was a loaf of bread all right. Closing it, she looked at the bouquet he was still holding.
“And the flowers? What are they for?”
This part was a last-minute inspiration. As her mother watched approvingly, he offered the flowers to Lisa with a flourish. “To make you smile.”
“Oh.” It was a simple bouquet of daisies, but it left her flustered and at a loss for words. Her mouth curved slightly without her even realizing it as she accepted the bouquet and looked down at the clustered, bouncy petals. Daisies, to pick apart one by one, murmuring “he loves me, he loves me not.” “I see.”
“It works!” CeCe announced with enthusiasm, grinning broadly. Then the grin began to fade away as she looked skeptically at the broom her grandmother was holding. She lowered her voice in a hushed whisper, inclining her head toward Bryce. “Does that mean we have evil spirits to sweep away?”
He saw the beginning of fear in her eyes. He’d meant to charm the mother, not frighten the daughter.
“They’re all gone already,” he told her solemnly. “It’s the fire department’s job to send any evil spirits packing a whole month before anyone new moves in. This—” he tapped the handle with his finger “—is just to remind them to stay away. Forever.”
“Oh.” Relieved, CeCe released a sigh that seemed twice as large as she was.
“Hey, I almost forgot. This is for you.” With a gesture every bit as grand as the flourish he’d used to present the flowers to Lisa, he awarded the coloring book he had tucked under his arm to CeCe. “It’s all about different fire trucks.” He winked at her. “Something the department keeps around for Bedford’s future taxpayers.”
She hugged the thin booklet to her, pleased to be remembered. “Mommy, where are my crayons?”
“We’ll find them after dinner.” Otherwise, Lisa knew that there would be no prying CeCe away from the coloring book until she was finished.
It suddenly occurred to Bryce that he hadn’t brought anything to give Lisa’s mother. Admittedly, the woman had not been on his mind when he was planning his strategy. He turned to her now a tad sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t bring anything for you.”
“Oh, but you did, Bryce,” Cecilia replied with a soft smile he could only wish would grace her daughter’s lips. The smile filtered into her eyes, putting him completely at ease. “You brought me your company. Now, how do you feel about pierogi?”
Unfamiliar with the word, he could only shake his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have any feelings about it one way or another.”
“You will,” Cecilia promised, patting his arm. “In time.” She gestured toward what looked to be the dining area. “Now, you and Lisa go sit and wait. CeCe and I will bring the food. You are in for a treat.” Cecilia winked, then taking the bag with the loaf of bread from her daughter, she commandeered her granddaughter’s attention. With a nod of her head, she led the way into the kitchen. Leaving Bryce and Lisa alone.
Awkwardness descended immediately, draping itself heavily on her shoulders. Lisa wished her mother had let her be the one to bring in the meal, but she knew better. This whole scene couldn’t have been playing itself out any better than if her mother had written it all out with specific stage directions.
Taking a deep breath, Lisa told herself she’d get through this. Abruptly she turned toward Bryce. “My mother worked at an embassy overseas when she was younger, she never completely got over ordering people around.”
“I think she’s great,” Bryce said. Cecilia reminded him a little of Riley’s mother, a woman who had been closer to him in his adolescent years than his own mother had been.
Lisa nodded, acknowledging the compliment. “Most people do,” she remarked. “You really don’t have to stay, you know.”
He studied her face, trying to sort out her signals and his own wishful thinking. “Is that your polite way of saying get lost?”
She caught her tongue between her teeth, fighting the urge to tell him just that. She didn’t need a bone-meltingly good-looking man putting ideas into her mother’s head just by his very presence. Her mother was incorrigible enough as it was, ceaselessly promoting the idea that she should get back out there amid the sharks and swim until she found someone special to swim through life with.
As if that was ever going to happen.
To find someone she had to be looking. And she wasn’t. Having her heart kicked in once was more than enough to teach her the pitfalls of wearing her heart on her sleeve. Of loving one man to distraction and placing all her faith, all her hopes and dreams into his careless hands.
She had loved Kyle, but he had loved his freedom even more. Watching him walk away, walk away from her and the promise of the family that was to be, was something she knew would remain with her for the rest of her life. She wasn’t about to put herself into the position of experiencing that again even in the remotest sense.
Still, since Bryce had been exceptionally kind to her daughter and mother, it wouldn’t kill her to be nice, she reasoned. Besides, if she sent him away now, before dinner, she knew her mother would never let her hear the end of it.
So Lisa resigned herself to suffering through the next hour or so. “If I wanted you to get lost,” she informed him tersely, “I would say so.”
“Glad to hear it.” He waited until she walked into the dining room, then followed behind her. “So, what’s this pier—pier—” Fumbling for the word he hadn’t quite grasped, he looked at her for help. Amusement curved her mouth. He had a feeling she liked him at a disadvantage. “Help me out, here.”
“Pierogi. It’s the Polish answer to ravioli,” she elaborated.
He pulled out a chair for her. “You’re Polish?”
“Yes, anything wrong with that?” She sat down and allowed him to push the chair in for her. The next moment, she felt her pulse scrambling as he lowered his face next to hers. She could have sworn she felt his breath along her cheek.
“Not a thing.” He saw the pulse in her throat jump as her jaw tightened. Bryce smiled to himself as he straightened again. Nice to know a graceful body like hers wasn’t entirely sculpted out of ice. “It’s just that Billings doesn’t sound very Polish.”
Her eyes were cold as he rounded the table to sit down.
“Billings was my married name.” She’d toyed with changing it back to her maiden name, but there was CeCe to think of. The little girl was incredibly bright, but she was still a four-year-old with a four-year-old’s emotions. Having a different name than her mother might be too confusing for her at this point.
