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Hometown Fireman
Lissa Manley
A Home Lost–and Found Ally York’s rental house has gone up in flames—along with her plan to rescue abandoned dogs. When the smoke clears, volunteer firefighter Drew Sellers is there, offering help and shelter. Ally knows she can’t get attached. After a childhood spent in foster care, she intends to put down deep roots in Moonlight Cove.And Drew is on the brink of leaving town. He’s drawn to Ally’s compassion and steady faith, but love has steered him wrong before. Yet this time it may have led them both to the place they truly belong. Moonlight Cove: A beachside town where love and faith blossom.
A Home Lost—And Found
Ally York’s rental house has gone up in flames—along with her plan to rescue abandoned dogs. When the smoke clears, volunteer firefighter Drew Sellers is there, offering help and shelter. Ally knows she can’t get attached. After a childhood spent in foster care, she intends to put down deep roots in Moonlight Cove. And Drew is on the brink of leaving town. He’s drawn to Ally’s compassion and steady faith, but love has steered him wrong before. Yet this time it may have led them both to the place they truly belong.
Just as he thought his actions were futile, the pup shuddered and took a noisy breath, followed by the tiniest doggy whimper he’d ever heard.
“Was that...?” Ally breathed.
“Yep,” he said, holding up the swaddled puppy. Joy arced through him. “It’s breathing.” He looked at her, his heart surging at the pure relief shining on her face.
“Oh, thank You, God!” she said, then she gripped his arm, her touch firm and warm. “And thank you, too, Drew.”
The pup squirmed in his hands, and Drew kept stroking it to encourage adequate blood flow, and to comfort it, as well. Sadie sniffed the pup intently but seemed content to let Drew hold her littlest baby.
He waited with bated breath, and then, after a few minutes, the pup lifted its head and gave a miniscule yowl.
“Listen to that,” Ally said, her tone laced with wonder. “What a little fighter.”
He held it out to Ally. “Just like you.”
LISSA MANLEY
decided she wanted to be a published author at the ripe old age of twelve. After she read her first romance novel as a teenager, she quickly decided romance was her favorite genre, although she still enjoys digging into a good medical thriller now and then.
When her youngest was still in diapers, Lissa needed a break from strollers and runny noses, so she sat down and started crafting a romance and has been writing ever since. Nine years later, in 2001, she sold her first book, fulfilling her childhood dream. She feels blessed to be able to write what she loves, and intends to be writing until her fingers quit working, or she runs out of heartwarming stories to tell. She’s betting the fingers will go first.
Lissa lives in the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon, with her wonderful husband, a grown daughter and college-aged son, and two bossy poodles who rule the house and get away with it. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, crafting, bargain hunting, cooking and decorating.
Hometown Fireman
Lissa Manley
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
But if God so clothes the grass of the field,
which today is alive and tomorrow
is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?
—Matthew 6:30
This book is dedicated to the brave fireman
in my family’s life, Tommy Bonin.
Thanks for all of your help with research—
I couldn’t have done it without you.
Contents
Chapter One (#ufe718c82-8cb2-55cc-9674-7777c4a24263)
Chapter Two (#u646c69a7-1e3b-5f62-adc7-55c4cb2d2c09)
Chapter Three (#ueba56c46-958c-523d-afac-6efe2a286047)
Chapter Four (#udb755d6c-4feb-5347-9938-73cba67e41fd)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
His eyes on the fingers of black smoke hanging in the rays of the setting sun to the west, volunteer firefighter Drew Sellers pulled up to 25 Flying Fish Lane.
He jerked his truck to a stop behind one of the two fire engines flanking the house. The massive rig ran all pumps on, drawing from a water tender parked at an angle on the road, spraying a thick jet of water on the blaze.
Furrowing his brow—if he remembered right, Old Man Whitley had died about a year ago and the house had been empty ever since—Drew threw open the truck’s door and cast his gaze left toward the decrepit cottage-style house set well back on the property. The distinctive smell of burning wood washed over him in an acrid wave.
His heart sank.
The old house was almost completely engulfed in flames already. He wished he could have arrived sooner, but he’d been too far out of town, on his way back from his interview in Atherton, Oregon, to respond and meet up with the rest of the crew at the station. But since he was driving by on his way home, there was no way he wasn’t stopping to help out.
He ran around the engine, jumped the taut hose and spotted Chief McCoy, dressed in his turnout coat and white helmet, his radio in hand, standing next to his SUV parked on the other side of the engine.
“We’ve got this under control, Drew,” the chief shouted. He waved left. “Can you go see how the homeowner is doing?”
Guess the house wasn’t empty after all. With an acknowledging gesture, Drew looked to his left and saw a small woman huddled in a dark coat standing just beyond the chief’s rig. She held two leashes attached to two large dogs, one black and one golden, her shoulders hunched as she watched the house burn.
Sympathy welled; feelings of hopelessness and devastating loss were as vivid as they had been on the day his family’s house had burned to the ground on the fifth of July the year he turned seven, thanks to an errant Roman candle. To this day, he hated fireworks.
He headed in her direction. “Miss? Are you all right?” He immediately regretted the words; of course nothing was all right.
She shook her head.
He noted the paleness of her face and the downward slash of her mouth, how small and alone and upset she looked. Yeah, he knew what that felt like.
“I’m Drew Sellers,” he said by way of an introduction. “Moonlight Cove volunteer firefighter.” He looked her and the dogs over. “No one’s injured, right?”
“No, we escaped unscathed.”
Suddenly, the black dog lunged at Drew, barking, his teeth bared. Drew froze, but thankfully the woman reacted instantly and pulled back on the taut leash with a quick tug. “Rex, leave it!”
The dog backed off but remained standing, his tail high and quivering, his hackles bunched.
“Sit!” the woman commanded.
The dog whined, then sat, his big haunches plopping down. But his large black eyes remained trained on Drew as if to say, Move and you die.
Drew stayed put and made a point of not meeting the dog’s gaze. “Looks like you have a protector.”
She looked warily at Drew with the biggest set of green eyes he’d ever seen. “Yeah, he’s like that.”
In between weird heart palpitations, Drew realized he didn’t know her, which was unusual since he’d grown up in Moonlight Cove and was at the very least acquainted with just about everybody. She must be new in town, and, well, with those eyes, he’d certainly remember if he’d seen her before. “Remind me to keep my distance.”
“He’ll remind you himself, I’m sure, but please don’t hold it against him,” she said, rubbing the big canine behind his floppy ears. “He’s had a pretty rough life, and he doesn’t like men.” She visibly swallowed. “I suspect he was abused by a man.”
“So he hasn’t been yours for long?” Drew asked out of curiosity, and to distract her from her plight, if only for a little while.
“No, I just started a dog rescue organization, and Rex was my first rescuee.” She patted the other dog, which looked to be some kind of chubby retriever, on the head. “Sadie here came home with me yesterday.”
This woman obviously had a soft heart and a boatload of compassion. “That’s a selfless job,” he said. “I admire that kind of dedication.”
“Well, thanks.” She cast woe-tinged eyes toward her burning house. “Although now...well, now I’m not sure what we’re going to do.”
He followed her gaze with his own. “Maybe it isn’t that bad...”
She blinked rapidly. “Again, thanks, but it looks pretty bad to me.”
He agreed with her—fire and water and smoke was a horrific combination—but he didn’t quite know what to say, so he replied, “Are you new in town?”
“Yeah. I’m Ally York.” She flipped the hood off her head, revealing a creamy-smooth complexion, sculpted cheekbones and a cute smattering of freckles across her nose. Long, straight dark blond hair streaked with gold spilled down around her shoulders.
Wow. Pretty.
“I just moved into this place two weeks ago,” she said.
No wonder she didn’t look familiar. “Old Man Whitley used to live here, but he died last year. Did you know him?”
“No. But my foster sister was his niece, and the house was sitting empty since he passed on, so she offered it to me rent-free. Not sure what I’m going to do now.”
Drew’s heart lurched—seemed as if she were down on her luck. Before he could respond, though, he saw the chief wave at him from his post. “Excuse me,” Drew said.
Drew reached the chief. “What’s up?”
“The fire’s just about out, but we still have to check for hot spots and bring the debris out.”
“I figured as much.” He’d had enough firefighting training in his EMT basic class at the Volunteer Academy to know how this worked. The crew would move all the furniture to be sure there weren’t any traces of fire underneath anything and then they’d bring the furnishings out of the house to eliminate any risk of the fire starting up again. “You want me to tell her she can’t go in?”
“Go ahead,” the chief replied.
Drew headed back toward Ally, dreading having to deliver the news. But that was what he did as a volunteer firefighter, what he wanted to continue doing in Atherton, if he was lucky enough to get hired for a full-time, paid position.
As he got closer to Ally, Rex growled low in his chest. Drew stopped dead. “Um...I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you aren’t going to be able to go back in yet.”
She lifted her chin. “I understand. Mostly I’m just concerned for the dogs’ stuff. They need their food and beds and toys...”
The fact that she didn’t seem to care about her own belongings raised her a notch in his eyes. “Do you know anyone else in town?”
“Nope.”
Made sense, since she’d only been here two weeks. “Don’t worry, I know plenty of people with dogs. In fact, my sister’s best friend, Molly Roderick, owns the local pet store, and I’m sure she can rustle up anything you need.”
“I’d hate to ask...” Ally said, her shoulders sagging the teensiest bit.
“Well, don’t. There are lots of folks around who would be willing to help.”
“I’m not used to depending on others,” she said. “Guess I’m going to have to get over that.” Her eyes glittered as her gaze landed on the attached one-car garage. “Guess my car is gone, too.”
He looked at the garage and his heart sank; its walls were charred and the roof had caved in. Empathy welled. She’d truly been left with nothing. “Yeah, it looks like it.” An idea rattled around in his brain. “You gonna need a place to stay?” He and his family had been homeless after the fire that destroyed their house, and if not for the kindness of others, they wouldn’t have had anywhere to live.
“I’ll figure something out,” she said, jutting her jaw out. “I’m used to managing on my own.”
He dropped his chin. He couldn’t turn her loose with no place to go and no way around; that just didn’t seem like the gentlemanly thing to do. And no doubt Mom would be on his case if she found out about Ally’s situation and then discovered he hadn’t helped out. His place only had one bedroom, so that wasn’t an option. But Mom and Dad had three unused bedrooms....
“Listen, Ally. My parents have plenty of room at their house.”
