Page 15 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

Emberleigh

Thousands have lived without love, not one without water.

~ W. H. Auden

“Now now, where were you last night, out all hours after dark?” Gran asks me before she passes me a cup of coffee.

“All hours? Gran. I was home by ten.”

I settle back, resting against the edge of a kitchen counter. Nothing about this room has changed since my childhood.

“Were you out with someone?” Gran’s head tilts just the slightest in anticipation.

“Yes. I was.”

I take a sip of my coffee and smile at my grandmother.

It’s Thursday. The one morning each week when I actually sleep in.

It’s generally the bakery’s slowest morning for whatever reason, so Syd and our part-timer cover the shop for me and I try to relax and do something besides think about recipes and inventory and overhead.

“Out with a young gentleman?” Gran’s voice is filled with hope and excitement.

“I was at Carli’s. She invited a bunch of us over.”

“Hmph.”

“I thought you liked Carli,” I tease.

“I love her. But none of you girls have the sense God gave a goose. You’re young and smart and beautiful. You’re in your prime for attracting a mate.”

“A mate? I guess we’re geese if we’re in mating season.”

“Hush now. You know perfectly well what I mean. There’s a certain window of time when you’re in your prime.

That’s when you find a husband, settle down, have some children, build your life.

This is the time, Emberleigh. Of course, you can do it later.

Some do. I’m not here to pass judgment on them.

I’m happy as a lamb when anyone finds love.

But it’s a lot harder to find a man when you’re starting to sag in all the wrong places. ”

“Gran!”

“I’m just speakin’ the plain truth.”

“Maybe put a dash of sugar in the mix before you serve it up next time? If a man only wants me when I’m not sagging, he’s not the man for me. You can’t put a window on when love finds people.”

“Okay. Point taken. And, bless your gramps. He loved me when I was young and perky and he loved me when I could sling a boob up over each of my shoulders.”

“Oh my goodness!” I screech and then burst into laughter.

“Well, he did.” Gran smiles fondly.

I lift my cup for another sip.

She points a finger in my direction. “Just don’t spend all your free time out on a ranch with all your girlfriends or tucked away in that shop of yours. I’m prouder than a rooster at dawn at what you’ve accomplished. I just don’t want you to grow up lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” I assure her.

“Having a husband is different, Emberleigh. When you find a man who loves you with his whole heart, well, that’s your person. And then everything changes. Of course you’ll always have your girlfriends. And they fill a spot no man on earth could. But finding a partner for life …”

Her eyes drift off toward the back door.

“You miss Gramps, don’t you?”

“Every single day. What we had was something I want for you, Sunshine. Not just any man. I want you to find one who loves you the way your gramps loved me.”

“You’re quite the salesman, aren’t you?”

“I’d hardly say so. You haven’t come close to buying what I’m selling.”

I smile and set my cup on the counter.

Then I walk over to my gran and wrap her in a hug. She’s nearly a half foot shorter than I am these days, and she smells like lotion and flowers and something precious.

After we wash the breakfast dishes, Gran and I spend some time in her front garden weeding the beds and planting a flat of flowers she bought at the nursery. By the time we’ve finished, I’m feeling squirrelly.

“I’m going to run an errand downtown. Do you need anything?” I ask Gran.

“Downtown? Are you poppin’ into your shop?”

“I might pop by. Why? Do you want something from there?”

“No. I just saw it in your eyes. You can’t stand to be away from there, even for one day.” She smirks. “Go on, then, check on your shop. You may as well bring me home something if you’re going.”

“How about a bear claw?”

They’re her favorite.

“Now you’re just trying to get me to hush up. And I’m not complaining. I’ll be as quiet as a stowaway on a ship if you bring me one of those bear claws.”

“I’ll be back for supper.”

“I’m countin’ on it.”

The drive to Baker From Another Mother isn’t far from Gran’s, so I decide to ride out on one of the old Schwinns she keeps in the garage.

They’re covered with blankets to keep the dust and rust at bay.

I pull the cover off and wheel the bike into the driveway.

Then I hop on and cruise down the familiar neighborhood streets that lead to downtown Waterford.

About a mile from Gran’s, I pass the fire station.

The sun's just high enough to cast a sheen across the fire engine parked out front when I pedal past the open bay. I’m not snooping—just cruising on Gran’s bike toward the bakery to check on things—especially the oven that’s been giving us a fuss lately.

I know Syd can handle things, but I don’t like leaving the burden on her shoulders.

“Hey, Emberleigh!” Cody’s voice calls from somewhere inside.

I raise my hand to wave at Cody. It’s then I see Dustin, hose in hand, washing the engine. He turns his head. The hose in his hand swings with him like an excited dog on a leash, eager to greet every stranger.

The water shoots skyward, a glittering cinematic arc. The scene could be right out of a movie about firemen—until it isn’t. The blast turns and slams into me like a busted fire hydrant.

I screech. “Oh my gosh! Dustin! Help! Noooooo!”

The bike wobbles, I’m scrabbling to maintain control.

My jeans quickly soak, forming a cold, sticky brace around my knees.

I try to pedal and course correct, but my tires hit the edge of the curb, and the bike buckles.

The handlebars jerk, tipping me sideways and ejecting me onto the grass at the edge of the sidewalk.

I go down—not gracefully, not quietly. I’m screaming the rookie’s name loudly enough that they probably hear me in the next county.

I land with a dull thud, half tangled in the frame, water still raining over me as if I offended the plumbing gods.

“Emberleigh!” Dustin drops the hose and bolts toward me.

The hose, now free of his grasp, whips like a flailing octopus, spraying in every direction.

Cody bursts out laughing. “I got it, I got it,” he says, hustling to the side of the building and cutting off the water.

I sit up, soaked and sputtering. Dustin jogs closer with that I-blew-it-again face that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Let me help—” he reaches for me.

“Please don’t tell me you were aiming for me.”

“I wasn’t! I promise. Cody said your name, I looked up, and?—”

“And decided to baptize me, apparently?” I smile.

I’m not mad. Just shocked. And drenched.

Dustin winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Unintentional immersion. Not holy at all. I … uh … Oh man. I can’t manage to do a thing right around you, can I?”

Cody tosses a towel toward us. It lands somewhere near my elbow.

Dustin stoops and picks it up, offering it to me with a sheepish smile. “You okay?”

I take the towel, dabbing at my hair. “I am,” I can’t help but return his boyish smile. “Nothing like starting your day with a full-body rinse and a public wipeout. But, yes. I’m fine. Thanks.”

“In my defense,” he says, crouching beside me, “I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Well, in the future I’ll be sure to phone ahead if I’m planning to cycle past the station.”

My words are sarcastic, but my smile tells him I’m teasing.

“That might be advisable,” he smiles down at me, then he crouches low and brushes a strand of wet hair away from my face.

The move is intimate and unnerving and it sends more chills through me than the spray of water just did.

“Here,” Dustin says in a gentle tone. “Let me help you up.”

I glance down at myself. My shirt is plastered to my skin. My jeans are soaked through. And Dustin Reed, Rookie of the Year, is looking at me like I’m the most intriguing thing to ever emerge from a puddle.

“I’d better get up before I start growing moss,” I joke.

He smiles softly. “Wouldn’t want that.”

Dustin extends his hand to me and I accept. His hand is warm, big, and slightly calloused. His grip on me is firm as he pulls me up with ease.

His brow crinkles with concern. “I’m so sorry, Emberleigh.”

“No worries. It’s just water. I’m not the Wicked Witch. I won’t melt.”

“That’s a relief,” he smiles.

Cody comes running out with another towel. He hands it to me and I take it, ruffling my hair and then draping it over my shoulders.

Dustin still looks shaken.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” I assure him.

“Cody shouted your name …” he nervously repeats his explanation.

“Don’t blame me, Rookie,” Cody teases. “I simply said hello. You’re the one who turned the hose on her.”

“True enough,” Dustin admits.

“Come on in,” Cody says to me. “I think we have a dry shirt you can change into. Patrick’s just pulling together lunch. Have you eaten yet?”

“I haven’t. I was just heading into town …”

“Come on, then. Join us,” Cody offers.

Dustin bends down and lifts my bike so it’s standing. He tips his head toward the station. “Come on, it’s the least we can do …”

Dustin’s eyes meet mine. Cody’s already heading back in through the bay.

Lunch with the firemen of Waterford. That’s an offer most women would jump at without a second thought.

But Dustin and I have just supposedly started dating.

Faking, starting our charade—or whatever this is.

Does the acting begin next week, or have we already slipped into our roles without even trying?

“I should probably go,” I tell Dustin.

We haven’t stopped staring into each other’s eyes. The slate blue is more blue today, like crystal waters. I can’t look away.

“Nah. You should dry off, get into a clean shirt and eat a meal with us. I promise we don’t bite. Well, at least the rest of the guys don’t. I can’t really vouch for what I’ll do around you, apparently.”

He chuckles nervously and I smile up at him. I’m officially convinced it’s impossible to stay mad at this man.

“Alright, but …”

“The dating thing?” he asks nonchalantly.

“Yes. That.”

“Just follow my lead. We’d only be starting to date anyway. No one’s going to believe we’ve been dating the whole time I was trying to make up for being an oaf.”

“True.”

“So, we’ll just glance at one another a lot. We’ll make giddy looks at one another. Smile private smiles. You know, the kinds of things you do when you’re first dating and you can’t stop thinking about the other person. I’ll pull out your chair. Stuff like that.”

“Stuff like that,” I repeat.

“Exactly,” Dustin says with an air of carefree confidence that surprisingly settles my nerves instantly.

“Okay,” I relent. “Lead the way.”

Dustin wheels my bike inside the bay and leans it against the wall. He opens the door and I step through.

David looks up from his laptop. “What happened?”

“Rookie here gave Emberleigh a surprise shower with the station hose,” Cody announces with all the mischievousness of a sibling tattling to his parents.

“You did, did you?” David asks Dustin.

“Not on purpose. But, yeah. I did.”

“Why don’t you get her a shirt to change into?” Greyson suggests, eyeing me like I’m an intruder even though we’ve known one another since we were kids. “And I think we’ve got some old gym shorts around here somewhere that might fit her. Remember that one guy? Shawn? Sherman? …”

“Shane,” Cody says. “Lasted a week.”

“He was about Emberleigh’s size,” Greyson says.

His tone is neutral. You’d think he was irritated, only I’ve known him long enough to know that’s just how he comes across. Under that gruff exterior is a soft heart bigger than a barn door.

Dustin walks out the side door, through the bays.

I glance around at the men seated around the dining table and turn to follow Dustin.

I’ve only been in the sleeping quarters at the station two other times—tours for my elementary school.

I remember thinking firemen lived at the station all the time.

Seeing the beds in dorm rooms, two per room, through my childhood eyes only solidified my suspicion.

Dustin pulls open a locker and scans the stacked clothing inside it. He pulls out a pair of shorts that might even be too big for him, holds them up, and we both crack up.

“Yeah, no,” he says. “I don’t even know why we’re keeping these.”

He tosses them onto a side table.

He hunts a little more and produces a pair of men's athletic shorts and a grey T-shirt with the emblem of our Waterford station on the front.

“You can change in there.” He points to a communal restroom.

“You can head back to the kitchen,” I offer.

But when I come out, carrying my wet clothes in my arms, Dustin’s still there—like a loyal retriever waiting for his treat. And maybe—if he’s lucky—a pat on the head.

He takes my clothes and stuffs them into a plastic trash bag.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“You’re going to think I’m always hungry.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he says simply. “I’m always hungry.”

I look him over from toe to head and smile.

“Like what you see, girlfriend?” he teases.

I shake my head and turn to walk out the door leading through the bays.

Of course I like what I see. Who wouldn’t?

I can hear Syd’s voice teasing me, “And you think you’re going to be able to keep this thing between the two of you fake?”