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Heading toward the back, he pushed through the shop door and tested the emergency lighting. “Have you given any more thought to that sprinkler system I suggested?”
Bailey shrugged, “I mentioned it to Doug, but since I just bought the place, I don’t think it’s quite in the budget at the moment.”
Ethan clenched his jaw. “I really hate that I can’t insist on it. I should be able to enforce the new building codes,” he said, shaking his head.
The building had been constructed in the sixties and the standard codes at the time hadn’t required a sprinkler or ventilation system for the permit. Unless upgrades were done, the fire department couldn’t apply the new codes so that the shop failed the inspection. “Look, I promise to check the sprinkler thing out myself, okay?”
“Promise?” he asked.
“I just did,” she said as he disappeared through the swinging door toward the bays in the back of the shop.
The bell chimed again and Bailey was surprised to see Victoria coming through the front door of the garage, wedding planner stuck under her arm and her cell phone cradled between her right ear and shoulder. Bailey waved in greeting and Victoria rolled her eyes, gesturing to the phone.
“Mrs. Dawson,” she whispered, covering the speaker with her left hand.
Bailey nodded her understanding. Victoria and Darlene were more acquaintances than friends. As the head of the social committee in town, Luke’s mother was sure to be very hands-on with the wedding preparations. She suspected Victoria had very little to say about her wedding, between Mrs. Dawson and her own mother weighing in on each decision. Grabbing a box of motor oil, Bailey stocked the metal racks along the wall, listening to one side of the conversation.
“Yes, Darlene, that’s fine. If you think the pale pink Gerbera daisies work better in the bridesmaids’ bouquets instead of the dark fuchsia ones, please go ahead and make the switch, as long as Pearl is okay with it...No, I’m not sure what Luke’s favorite flower is....”
Bailey hid a smile. Luke, local architect and business owner, didn’t strike her as a man who would have a favorite flower.
“Okay, thanks, Darlene. I appreciate your help.” The words sounded forcibly polite even to Bailey’s ears.
Victoria disconnected the call and shook the phone. “Wow!” she said as she approached. “Forty-three minutes of that, just to decide between two shades of pink.... I’ll be happy once this wedding part is over and the house renovations are done.” She let out a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m through venting. Hi, Bailey.” Her shoulders visibly relaxed and her smile was now genuine.
“What brings you by?” Outside, Luke’s new Ford F250 sat parked on an angle, taking up two stalls. Victoria wasn’t the best driver in town. Twelve years living in New York City hadn’t provided her with much driving experience. “Is something wrong with the truck?”
“Besides the fact that it’s huge and I can’t park it? No, it runs like a dream. I really wish Luke would drive it when he travels for work,” she said. “You have to stop fixing the old one so well.”
“I’ll try.” Luke’s other truck was at least thirty years old and Bailey knew he kept it for sentimental reasons, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it in running condition. “Believe me, I’ve told him a million times that the truck won’t last forever.”
“One can only hope. Anyway, I’m actually here because I need your help with something else.”
“Okay,” Bailey said, reaching into the box for the last two bottles of oil, and aligning them on the shelf. She broke down the carton and tossed it onto the stack of other stock boxes near the door, scanning the shop for Nick. Nowhere to be found—how unusual. Biting back the annoyance she felt at his relaxed work ethic, she asked, “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to be a bridesmaid in the wedding.”
Bailey’s mouth gaped. “I’m sorry, what?” She couldn’t have heard right.
“My cousin Adele was supposed to be back from her mission trip to South Africa in time for the wedding, but her grant from the university was extended until the end of September. The dress was made to fit her and, well...you’re just the right size. If I have to ask my mom to make a new one or even alter that one, she’s going to kill me.”
Bailey stared at the bride-to-be, a good excuse eluding her. The last thing she wanted was to be in a wedding party and stand in front of the whole community in a dress...holding a bouquet of flowers. She’d be forced to wear makeup and do her hair...and be in the photos. The mere thought made it difficult to breathe. She remained silent.
Victoria looked desperate as she moved closer. “I know it’s a lot to ask and it’s really short notice, but please.”
“Wouldn’t you rather a family member or a close friend? What about your friend Heather from New York? She looks tiny in those photos you have on Facebook of the two of you.”
Victoria shook her head. “Weddings are not exactly Heather’s thing. If she wasn’t such a close friend, she’d never even have agreed to attend, and her work schedule at Clarke and Johnson is busy—the way mine used to be—so I can’t rely on her. Besides, Luke has always thought of you as another sister. I know he’d be thrilled if you agreed to do it.”
Bailey hated to disappoint Victoria and Luke, but weddings weren’t exactly her thing, either. They always made her sad when she saw the mother of the bride looking on as her daughter said the vows. Even if she did find someone she wanted to spend her life with, her own mother wouldn’t be there to be part of the wedding, not in the physical sense, anyway. She had been hoping to skip the ceremony and just attend the reception if at all possible. “There has to be someone else.”
“Bailey, it’s either you or Lindsay, and I can’t ask her for obvious reasons....”
Bailey nodded her understanding. “She’ll try to steal Luke away at the altar. Yes, I get that, but...”
“Bailey, please. It would mean a lot to both of us.” She cocked her head to the side. “You get to keep the dress,” she said in an attempt to persuade.
“That doesn’t really sell it for me, Vic,” Bailey said with a laugh. She owned one dress, a black knee-length formal that worked for both funerals and weddings. She hesitated. “Fine, okay, I’ll be your bridesmaid, but I’ll warn you now—I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Neither do I. Don’t worry, Reverend Miller said he will walk us through everything at the rehearsal the day before. Thank you, Bailey.” Victoria looked relieved.
“Sure.”
“So I told my mom you would stop by sometime tomorrow to try on the dress...just to be sure.”
Bailey shook her head. Victoria had really assumed she would say yes. “Okay.”
“Great, thanks again, Bailey.” Her cell phone beeped with a new text message and she sighed as she read it. Turning the phone toward Bailey, she asked, “Do you know the difference between these two flowers?”
“Amaryllis and hyacinth,” she read. “I wouldn’t even have known they were types of flowers. Sorry, Vic.”
“No worries, you’ve done enough,” she said as she typed amaryllis into Google search on her cell phone.
Ethan reentered the front of the shop. “Hey, Vic. How are the wedding plans coming along? All set for the big day?”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed.
He held up his hands in defense. “Forget I asked.” Turning to Bailey, he handed her the inspection report.
She scanned it, noticing several fail marks, including the extinguisher. “Hey, I thought you were going to let the extinguisher position slide?”
“Changed my mind,” he said, placing a yellow tag on it. “Are we still on for the UFC tonight?”
“How can you switch back and forth from mean fire inspector guy to my good friend like that?” She placed her hands on her hips.
“Easy—both guys care about your safety. Eight o’clock at the fire hall?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she mumbled, tucking the report into a drawer.
Victoria watched his disappearing figure before turning to Bailey. “So are you making any progress with that one?”
“What?”
“With Ethan. Come on, don’t tell me you’re not completely in love with him. Whenever he’s around your eyes look excited and your cheeks turn red.”
“That obvious, huh?” And she thought she’d been doing a good job hiding her true feelings. “Think anyone else knows?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he knows?”
“I figure you’re safe there. He’s completely oblivious. Is he really still pining over Emily?”
“Unfortunately.” How was she supposed to make a play for a man who refused to get over his ex? “I swear, he’s making himself miserable on purpose. He still listens to her CDs in his Jeep, even though he hates country music and always complained about having to listen to it before. There are photos of them everywhere in his place....” She shook her head. It annoyed her that he didn’t seem to be making an effort to move on.
Victoria frowned. “I guess I don’t get it. Granted, I didn’t know Emily as well as the rest of you, but in the two months that I saw them together, they were always fighting. What exactly is he holding on to?”
“The past. The way they were in the beginning. The truth is, they’d been growing apart for years, and then once Emily met Greg Harrison from Play Hard Sports, that was it. Anyway, you can understand why I’m not about to put myself out there, especially since he’s always thought of me as one of the guys.” She hated that saying. So she liked to work on cars and enjoyed sporting events and beer? She was still a woman. A woman who was much better for him than Emily had ever been.
“I guess you’ll just have to open his eyes,” Victoria said.
“How?” If the bride-to-be had any suggestions, she was more than willing to try them. After over a decade of believing that the man she loved was off-limits, she’d be willing to make a play for him if she thought she actually had a chance.
“Sorry, that’s where you may have to talk to Luke. He was the one to open my eyes to the possibility of love...but I remember it had something to do with a mistletoe kiss.” She smiled, obviously lost in the memory of it.
“Well, it’s August, Victoria, and unless you know where I can find some mistletoe, I may have to come up with a different plan.”
CHAPTER THREE
“WOW, DID YOU see that takedown defense? That guy is insane.” Mark Adams used the sleeve of his shirt to twist the cap off a beer.
Inside the fire hall, the four men on duty and their friends had dragged every available chair to crowd around the thirty-six-inch television to watch the Saturday-night ultimate-fighter fight. Eight men and Bailey. Cold leftover pizza and wings from Luke’s party the night before sat on the table, and once again, Bailey was annoyed that she’d missed the celebration. At least here with the guys she wouldn’t have been forced to admit her feelings about Ethan. Not admitting to them had made them easier to ignore.
“There’s no way that takedown defense should have worked.” Sitting on the couch, Ethan extended his long legs out in front of him and raised his arms above his head.
Bailey tore her eyes away as his shirt rose, exposing his abs. She could blame it on the women the night before, but in recent months, she’d been finding it increasingly hard to conceal her long-repressed feelings for him. Without Emily around as a reminder that Ethan was unavailable, every time she looked at him, all she saw were the gold flecks in his chocolate eyes or the deep dimple in his chin or the six-pack under his shirt. Those things hadn’t escaped her notice before, but now it was near impossible to push the feelings of attraction away whenever she looked at him. And after watching him put out that car fire the day before...
She forced her gaze back to the television. “It totally works,” she argued, watching the slow-motion replay at the end of the fourth five-minute round of the champion match for the light heavyweight title.
“Prove it,” Ethan said, jumping up and turning to her in challenge.
“I think Sanchez just did,” Bailey scoffed, leaning around him to see the television screen. She took a sip of her diet soda, fighting to calm her raging pulse. Any other time, dropping him on his butt in front of the guys would be fun, but now the idea of physical contact made her heart race.
“I think he just got lucky.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah, come on, bring it on.” He danced sideways from one foot to the other.
The other men encouraged her.
“Come on, Bailey. Show him how it’s done,” Jim said, taking his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled out several bills and turned to the other men. “You guys want to place bets? My money’s on Bailey.”
Bailey stood as the men placed their twenties in a pile on the coffee table. Eyeing the stack as it grew, she reached into the pocket of her jean shorts. “My money’s on me, too,” she said, tossing two ten-dollar bills onto the pile, then she rolled the sleeves of her favorite UFC shirt.
“You really think I can’t take you down?” Ethan’s eyes shone with amusement.
“You do remember that both of my brothers train mixed martial arts, right? Aren’t you afraid I may have picked up a skill or two?”
“You may have me on skill, but I am a little bigger,” Ethan said, moving the coffee table to the side to make room for his attack. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.” Bailey got into defensive position as he approached.
Grabbing both of her arms, Ethan moved in closer. Bending quickly, he grabbed for her left leg.
Ah, a single-leg takedown. How many times had Brandon taught her to defend that one?
As his hand wrapped around the back of her knee, Bailey rotated her hips to the left, quickly switching position until she was now behind Ethan in a mount position. Freeing her leg, she straightened, forcing him off-balance, taking control.
The others whooped and hollered.
Removing her hand from his shoulder, Ethan turned to face her, towering over her, head down, nodding slowly. “Not bad,” he said, but in one swift motion he swooped her off her feet, slowly dropping her toward the floor.
Caught off guard, Bailey clutched at his shirt and stopped just inches from the concrete floor. Ethan hovered above her, a firm grip on her arms, holding her in place. Staring up into his eyes, she saw the amused look on his handsome face and felt her pulse quicken and her cheeks flame. Pushing him away, she scrambled to her feet and turned to the others. “That doesn’t count—you all saw I had him first.” She pointed to Jim.
“Hey, my money was on you, I’m not arguing,” Jim said with a laugh, handing over her portion of the winnings as the last round of the fight began.
Reclaiming her place on the sofa next to Ethan, she struggled to calm the pounding in her chest. It was just Ethan. So what if he was hot, fun, exciting...still brooding over his ex?
The sound of the guys cheering interrupted her thoughts. The fight had ended and the current champion had his arms raised in the air. His opponent was out cold on the mat inside the octagon. Crap, she’d missed the knockout.
“Did you see that?” Ethan exclaimed, turning to face her.
She forced enthusiasm into the lie. “Yeah, amazing.” So were his dark eyes, full mouth, solid chest.... She took a breath and stood, needing to put some distance between them. Opening the bar fridge, she took out a bottle of water and gulped its contents, aware of those mesmerizing eyes on her. She was in trouble; there was no more denying it. She was in love with Ethan, and without Emily standing in the way, there was nothing stopping her from going after what she’d always wanted.
* * *
ETHAN STOOD AND stretched. “Okay, guys, I think that’s it for me. Thank you for stealing my money. Good night.” He checked his watch. A little past one o’clock. Everyone else had taken off after the fights, but he’d stayed to play cards with his coworkers on duty that evening. He was spending a lot of his free time at the fire hall these days, which only reminded him how much time he’d devoted to his relationship with Emily. His shifts at the fire hall and coaching his nephew’s soccer and hockey teams just weren’t enough to keep him occupied. The days weren’t the challenge; it was the lonely nights.
He grabbed his wallet and keys from the table and waved as he left the hall. Taking the steps two at a time, he jogged upstairs to his loft-style bachelor suite. It had been a long-standing tradition in Brookhollow for the captain of the fire team to live in the apartment if he or she was single. While it essentially meant he was always on call, he loved his nine hundred square feet and the fact he was only seconds away if he was needed in an emergency.
Inside, he kicked off his shoes and headed straight for his upstairs bedroom. He was exhausted after the late night and early morning. He just hoped that his inability to keep his eyes open would mean a good night’s sleep for a change. In the six months since Emily had left, sleep had constantly eluded him. He wished that for just one night, the last thought he had wouldn’t be of her. Removing his shirt, he tossed it into the corner laundry basket as his cell phone rang on the bedside table.
Oh, come on, it was almost one-thirty in the morning. She couldn’t possibly expect him to answer. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his forehead. What was he supposed to do? He reached for the phone just as the emergency alarm sounded downstairs. Dropping the ringing phone onto his bed, Ethan bounded back down the stairs and out the front door of the apartment without even stopping for his shoes.
Inside the fire hall, the men had rushed to the duty racks. Derek’s face paled as he listened to the call from dispatch. “Yeah, okay. Yeah, two units are on it.” He motioned for the other men to suit up.
Ethan grabbed the report as it came over the machine. The familiar address in bold, block letters on top of the emergency reporting page caught his attention. Doug’s Motors. Grabbing the report, he ran toward the duty racks and grabbed his boots.
Derek approached and grabbed the report. “What are you doing? You’re off duty.”
“It’s the shop, man. I’m coming.” Ethan slid his jacket over his bare shoulders and grabbed his gear.
Derek followed behind him toward the unit. “I think you’re a little too close to this one....”
Jim jumped into the passenger seat of the first response vehicle. “He’s right, Ethan, you’re out. Your emotions are running too high right now.”
Ethan ignored him and jumped into the driver’s seat of the truck. “Any fire in Brookhollow would be close for any of us. Now let’s go.”
