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Annabelle waited expectantly.
“Fine,” Charlie whispered. “Maybe a little. But it’s all an intellectual exercise. I’m not stupid. A guy like Clay isn’t... I have issues I have to work through. So being attracted to Clay simply means I’m not as dead as I thought. That’s a good thing.”
“It’s a great thing.”
“Don’t make this more than it is.”
“You’d be a cute couple.”
Charlie looked at her friend. “Don’t think for a second I wouldn’t kill you.”
Annabelle grinned. “You love me too much and I’m not afraid of you. Clay’s a sweet guy. You should totally go for him.”
“Yeah. Because that’s going to happen.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“I THOUGHT THERE would be a pole,” Clay said, looking up at the ceiling of the firehouse.
“A challenge in a one-story building, although there is a two-story fire station in town.” Charlie led the way through the engine bay. “Honestly, they’ve done away with poles. Too many injuries.”
“People slipping down the pole too fast?”
“No. People falling through the floor. These days, if a station is two stories, we take the stairs.”
“Hard to be a superhero on stairs.”
She glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “Tell me about it. I had to turn in my cape last week.” She stepped through a doorway. “Administrative offices are that way.” She pointed to the left. “Our living quarters are this way.”
He followed her toward the living quarters. When he’d called Charlie to tell her he would be coming by to drop off his application, she’d offered to show him around.
She’d already explained the various pieces of equipment, including the difference between the engine and the Quint. Like most towns in America, the majority of the station’s calls were about something other than a fire. Many involved medical emergencies, including car accidents. Here in Fool’s Gold, more than a few were about things like Mrs. Coverson’s cat.
“Self-explanatory,” Charlie said, pointing at a large open area with several sofas and a huge flat-screen TV. Behind the sofas was a big dining-room table and behind that was the kitchen.
“The paid firefighters work twenty-four hours at a time so we take our meals here. As a group, we’re responsible for our own breakfast and lunch.” She walked into the kitchen and pulled open the door of a jumbo-size freezer. Inside, dozens of casserole dishes were neatly stacked and labeled.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Our glorious community at work. Thanks to the Casserole Brigade, there’s a steady supply of dinners provided to all the stations in town. Precooked and ready to just thaw and heat. A few times a month, we’ll get a call and someone will come by and cook us dinner. We also have a barbecue out back where we can grill hamburgers or steaks.”
“Nice setup.”
“It works.”
She returned to the engine bay and pointed to another door. “Sleeping quarters, bathrooms and showers are over there.” Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“What?”
“Some guys assume they’re communal showers and get excited at the thought.”
Clay pictured a brief flash of Charlie in the shower and found himself surprised by his own interest, not that he would tell her that. “I’m pretty sure I can control myself.”
She didn’t look convinced, but moved on anyway. “Come on,” she said, heading back to the engine bay. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
Five minutes later, they were seated at the kitchen table. They each had a mug of black coffee. Charlie’s blue eyes were thoughtful as she studied him.
“You sure you want to do this?” she asked. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“Fool’s Gold is going to be my home for a long time. I want to be a part of things.” While he found the Haycations interesting and looked forward to the challenge of starting a business, he was going to have too much time on his hands. He was done with college and in a place where he wanted to put himself out there. “I’m used to people not taking me seriously.”
She nodded slowly. “I would have mocked you before. It must be difficult being so special.” She shrugged. “I’m starting to get that maybe there’s something to it. You’re going to have to work harder than everyone else.”
“I’m good with that.”
“You’re really staying? You’re not going to complain it’s too difficult and head back to New York?”
He grinned. “I already sold my apartment. Nothing to go back to.”
“You have friends there.”
“I have friends all over the world.”
He sensed she was asking about something else entirely, but he couldn’t figure out what. If she was a different kind of woman, he would wonder if she was coming on to him. He was used to invitations. Most of the time he ignored them. When that was impossible, he gently said no.
He was thirty years old and he was willing to admit his heart had died along with Diane. There had been women. A night here, a weekend there. But it wasn’t the same. The need for sex was biological. He didn’t want anymore. Didn’t need. Everything worked, but no one appealed.
He leaned back in his chair and reminded himself that this was Charlie. If she wanted him in her bed, she would ask. Or at least offer to arm wrestle him. She didn’t play girl games. He respected that and her. He also found the idea of Charlie in bed intriguing. More so than any other offer had been in a while. Not that she was offering. But if she did...
“I’ll do my best to make sure they give you a fair shot,” she said, rising to her feet.
“Thank you.”
He stood and took the hand she offered. They shook.
For a second he felt something. A flash of attraction. Potential, he thought, shocked that after all this time he could imagine anticipating being with a specific woman. Before he could decide if he wanted to pursue said attraction, she was escorting him outside and telling him he would hear from the Battalion Chief within a couple of weeks. Then he was standing on the sidewalk, staring at the fire station trying to figure out which was crazier. Him having to fight to put his life on the line for free or being interested in a woman who probably thought she could take him in a fight.
* * *
“I’M SORRY, I’m sorry,” Pia Moreno said as she grabbed her handbag and car keys. “Don’t hate me.”
Charlie laughed. “I would never hate you and you’re not imposing. Stop worrying.”
“You sure?” Pia paused and sucked in a breath. “I’m so late.”
“Go.”
“The twins are asleep and—”
Charlie physically pushed her toward the door. “Peter will be home in the next few minutes. I’ll explain what happened and stay here until you’re back. He gets a snack. There are freshly baked cookies on the cooling rack. He can have two. Get out before I’m forced to hurt you.”
Pia smiled gratefully. “You’re a goddess.”
“If I had a nickel.” Charlie pointed to the door. “Out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Pia raced to the door. Seconds later Charlie heard her car engine start.
A little less than an hour ago, she’d received a call from a very frantic Pia. The town’s festival planner had forgotten about a meeting with several vendors. As the salespeople had all come in from out of town, rescheduling had been impossible. Charlie had agreed to emergency babysitting.
Now she walked quietly into the twins’ room and stared at the two sleeping girls.
They were on their backs in cribs. Wispy curls draped across foreheads. Rosebud mouths puckered slightly. Charlie studied them, allowing the longing to wash over her.
She’d always thought she was too grumpy a person to ever want children. While she liked the idea of family, she’d never thought she would have one of her own. But a few years ago, that had all started to change. She’d found herself watching mothers with their children. She’d volunteered to babysit a few times. She’d taken over the junior firefighter program at the station.
Earlier this year, she’d made the decision to have a child of her own. A husband didn’t seem possible, but a child... That was different.
She knew that being in Fool’s Gold had changed her. She’d been taken in and loved until she’d had no choice but to open her heart. With that action had come the realization she had a child-size hole that needed filling.
“I’m going to have to fix the broken parts first,” she whispered to the sleeping girls. A couple of months ago her friend Dakota had pointed out that until Charlie was healed, she shouldn’t take on a child. Charlie had wanted to be pissed, yet she’d known her friend was right. But after a decade of hiding, she wasn’t sure how to start healing. Or she hadn’t been until a few days ago.
Downstairs a door slammed. She left the babies’ room and found Peter Moreno dumping his backpack on a kitchen chair. He saw her and grinned.
“Hi, Charlie.” He crossed to her and wrapped his arms around her.
“Hey, kid. Your mom’s not here.” She hugged him back, then ruffled his hair.
“I guessed that when her car was gone.”
“She had a meeting she forgot about, so she called me. She won’t be long.”
Peter was getting taller by the day. Skinny, with bright red hair, he was smart and athletic. Two years ago, he’d been a scared kid, abused by his foster father. Raoul and Pia had adopted him, despite the fact that Pia had been pregnant with twins. Now they were a loud, happy family.
“She takes on too much,” Peter said in a tone that implied his father saying the same thing. “Women do today.”
Charlie laughed. “You’re a charming guy, aren’t you?”
Peter grinned. “Dad says I get that from him and it’s going to serve me well.”
“I’m sure it is. Come on, let’s eat cookies.”
Charlie poured them each a glass of milk. Peter washed his hands and then put cookies on a plate. They settled at the kitchen table.
“How was your day?” she asked.
Peter grinned. “You sound like my mom.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He told her about his second day of school. He was in seventh grade now, having to deal with going from class to class. They discussed optimal locker placement and how girls could get really pretty over a summer.
Charlie mostly listened. She liked how excited he was about math, how confident he was in his friends. She could feel his trust in Pia and Raoul and remembered the emotionally battered kid he’d been only a couple of years ago.
His birth parents had been killed in a horrible car accident. He’d been witness to the tragedy, trapped in the backseat. When Raoul and Pia had fallen in love, they’d never considered not adding Peter to their family. A lot for a newly engaged couple to take on. Especially considering the twins weren’t their biological children, either.
Charlie wasn’t sure she was as emotionally strong as Pia had been, but she liked to think she would have some of her friend’s grace. She knew she wanted a chance to give to a child, to be a constant in a changing world.
Fixing herself first made sense. She needed to be emotionally whole, or at least on the road to being whole, before she took on the responsibility of a child. From what she’d been able to figure out, the slower route was the most sensible. Find a good therapist and work through the issues of her past. Deal with the rape, the way she’d shut down, the lack of justice. Grow emotionally over time. Healthy, reasonable and so not her style.
The alternative was more radical—tackling the lingering effects head-on, so to speak. If she had a fear of flying, she was the type of person who would book a flight to Australia and get it over with in one hideous seventeen-hour plane ride. But she wasn’t afraid of flying, she was afraid of physical intimacy. More specifically, she was afraid to trust. Not men in general, but any man in an emotionally and physically intimate setting. Hardly something an online travel site could help her with.
The truth was, she could live with being broken. But being broken meant she was unlikely to raise a whole, healthy child. She didn’t want to raise a kid who was afraid because Mom was. Which meant getting better.
She needed a professional, she thought as she listened to Peter. Or the closest thing she could find.
* * *
CHARLIE’S HOUSE WAS a lot like her. Practical, well kept and not the least bit flashy. Clay took in the neatly cut lawn, the well-maintained hedges, the unexpected flashes of color by the walkway.
She’d called him a couple of hours ago and asked him to stop by. He hadn’t seen her since he’d gone by the station nearly a week ago. He wasn’t supposed to start on the volunteer firefighter program for a few days, so he wasn’t sure what she wanted to talk about. Still, Charlie was anything but boring, so he was sure he would be interested in whatever she had to say.
He climbed the three steps to the porch, then reached for the bell. The door opened before he could press it.
“Good. You’re here. Come in.”
She stepped back as she spoke, motioning him inside with her arm. As he passed her, he was aware of the tension in her body and the color on her cheeks. Not from makeup, he knew. Something else had her flushed.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine. I’m a little... Well, that doesn’t matter. Sit.”
It sounded like more of a command than a request.
He took in the comfortable oversize sofa, the extra chairs, all done in black leather. Color came from red and tan rugs over the hardwood floors and a few throw pillows. To the left was the arched entrance to a dining room and beyond that he would guess was the kitchen.
He walked to the sofa and sat down. Charlie settled across from him in one of the club chairs. She pressed her lips together, looked at him, then jumped up.
“Stay,” she said, holding out her hand, palm to him. Then she dropped her arm to her side. “Sorry. You don’t have to stay. What I meant is please don’t get up. I think I need to pace.”
Unease radiated from her. Something had happened—he’d guessed that much. “Are you hurt?”
She made a choking sound in the back of her throat. “Not in the way you mean. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Great, even. Sparkly.” She stopped talking and walked to the end of the room. When she returned, she positioned herself behind the second chair, as if wanting a physical barrier between them.
She was dressed as usual in jeans and a T-shirt. Instead of the steel-toed boots she wore at the fire station, she had on athletic shoes. Her arms were toned and muscled, her short hair slightly mussed. She was exactly as he remembered, yet he would swear that everything was different.
He wanted to go to her, to give her a hug and tell her that he would help her get through whatever was wrong. Only Charlie didn’t strike him as the hugging type. On a more practical level, who the hell was he to think he could solve any of her problems? Typical arrogant male response. That’s what Diane would say.
