Page 3 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

Emberleigh

You can take the Californian out of California ? —

but if they bring good tacos, we’ll let them stay.

~ Unknown

The light over Carli’s stove sheds a yellow glow around the kitchen.

It’s still dark out. Carli pours herself a cup of coffee and joins me, setting her mug on the small table off to the side of the room.

I wake before most people. That’s the life of a baker.

Carli grew up on a ranch, so she’s up before dawn most mornings too.

I doubt she usually rises this early. Today, I’m grateful for her company.

Carli’s one of my oldest friends in Waterford. Her home is surrounded by open land. The only neighbors Carli has live an acre or so toward the east of her two-bedroom cabin in her family’s main house and a few bunkhouses outside the hog barn. It’s at least a mile from there to the next property.

“I went by my house last night after work,” I tell Carli.

“And?”

“It still smells like smoke—not the campfire kind. It’s a burning smell—the one that stayed with me the first twenty-four hours after the fire. They’ve got dehumidifiers and fans set up to dry everything out. It’s noisy and messy …” My voice trails off.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No. I know. It’s bad. But I’ll get through this.

It could have been so much worse. As it is, I’m only looking at a remediation and renovation of the kitchen.

The backsplash, walls, cabinets, stove—all scorched.

Doors hanging loose. The insurance guy came out yesterday while I was at work. He’s filing my claim.”

I take a sip of coffee and stare out the large windows into the dusky gray-blue of pre-dawn. I can barely make out the rolling hills surrounding Carli’s cabin.

“Your life has been completely upended,” she says.

Her brows lift toward the center of her forehead and her eyes soften.

“I never thought such a small fire could leave me so unsettled. My home doesn’t even feel like my home now.”

“Well, this can be your home for as long as you need it. No one ever stays in my spare bedroom unless McKenna’s back in town. And she only crashes here when she’s avoiding life at her family’s ranch. But she’s in Hollywood for at least another month, so you’re good.”

“Thanks.”

I’m so grateful for old friends like Carli.

Still, as much as I love the peace and quiet of the ranch, I don’t know if I can keep up the commute to and from the bakery from this far out of town on a daily basis.

And there’s always something to be done around the ranch.

Carli lives a good distance from the main house, but she still spends part of her day feeding and caring for the hogs or helping her mom with the finances or talking to suppliers.

I’d feel like a freeloader staying here and not pitching in.

I need to figure out a place to stay that feels more like home while my kitchen is being rebuilt.

“I’ll keep you posted,” I say, standing to wash my mug in the sink.

“Whatever helps you through this transition period while you're an involuntary nomad, that’s what I want for you. If you want to go stay with Sydney in town, I won’t be hurt.”

“Sydney’s loft only has one bedroom and a fold-out couch. And she fosters strays. I don’t need to be the next stray on her list. Though, it would put me closer to the bakery.”

Carli laughs. “You can’t get much closer than right over the shop. And I hope you know I’m not kicking you out. Just putting options out there.” She stands and walks toward the sink. “Hey. What about your grandma?”

“Yeah. She offered. I don’t know.”

“It might be sweet to have this special time with Betty Faye. She’d spoil the dickens out of you. There’s no doubt about that.”

“I know. But she’d also make use of the opportunity to try to match me up with one of her friends’ grandsons, or the guy she met at the grocery store, or heaven forbid, Walter at the library. I’m not in the headspace to start dating right now—at all.”

“Your gran and her matchmaking ways.” Carli grins warmly.

“If only they were actual matchmaking ways. She can’t seem to match anyone. She’s a menace.” I smile, affection for my gran filling me with a certain kind of warmth.

“She’s adorable,” Carli says.

“Did you find it adorable when she tried to hook you up with Buckley from the Feed and Seed?”

Carli snort laughs. “How did she frame that?” She laughs again, setting her cup in the drying rack and turning to me. “Oh, yeah. He’s sturdy. That was her big selling point. Carli, you should spend some time with Buckley. He’s sturdy .”

We both cackle.

“I mean, she’s not wrong,” I say through my laughter. “He’s built like a John Deere.”

“I’m not even sure she was referring to his physique,” Carli giggles again. “He has exactly no personality. He’s nice. But can you imagine life with Buckley?”

I shake my head. “Lifetime supply of pig growth booster. There would be that.”

Carli loses it. Then she gasps out, “I guess standards for relationships have gone up a few notches over the generations. I can’t see myself marrying simply to secure a discount at the farm supply.”

When our laughter dies down, I ask, “Remember when Gran wanted me to date that guy who was here as summer help at the Flying J Ranch?”

Carli closes her eyes and shakes her head. “What was his name? James? John? George? Did he even speak?”

“Jason. And no, he didn’t speak. And that would be fine, except he actually never spoke.

Not a word. He wasn’t reserved or shy or a once-you-get-to-know-him type.

At all. He could speak. He just … didn’t.

Talk about the longest date of my life. I’d ask him questions and he’d just nod, shake his head or stare at me.

There’s strong and silent and then there’s … Jason.”

“Girl.”

“I know. And that’s exactly why I’m not so sure I want to stay at Gran’s, where I’d be her captive victim. I might find myself coming home from the bakery to a parlor full of random and unfortunate suitors.”

“Maybe just tell her you’re in need of a sanctuary after the fire. You endured it. You may as well use it to your advantage.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“But, again, you can stay here as long as you like. I love having you around.”

“I really appreciate it. You have no idea.”

Carli smiles at me. Then she leans in and draws me into a hug.

“Anytime,” she says, giving me a squeeze.

I leave Carli’s before the sun is up, driving out the long road flanked by low fences and lines of trees.

Pastures stretch out on either side. I pass Blue Mist Ranch, where the Lawsons raise cattle.

In about twenty minutes, I’m at the edge of historic downtown Waterford.

We’re a five stoplights in each direction town.

Neighborhoods surround the main streets, an invisible line separating shops and residences.

A few older buildings downtown have been converted to condos in recent years, blurring that line just the slightest.

Most of our town is preserved to look essentially the way it did for generations before I was born. There’s a comfort in knowing the people and places that surround you. I could navigate Waterford with my eyes shut. And I know almost everyone by name.

Even the intruders, like that fireman, Dustin.

I’m not completely against people moving into Waterford. I’m hospitable and welcoming if they come here to blend in or add something of value. But when they storm the gates bringing everything they stand for with them, my feathers get admittedly ruffled.

California. I release an audible, “Hmph.”

I’d bet he has blond highlights under that helmet.

He probably grew up skipping school to go surfing.

I can already tell he’s like a puppy at a funeral—a big loping pup, bouncing around and knocking into things, licking everyone and wagging his tail.

He’s obviously been told he’s cute too many times in his life. No one taught him to sit or stay.

Whatever. I can’t stop the influx of random trespassers into my hometown. And I can’t blame the people who come to Tennessee to seek a sweeter slice of life. Usually they end up in Franklin or Nashville itself. Even Knoxville’s got more outsiders than ever these days.

Why would that rogue fireman end up in Waterford of all places?

I take a deep breath. I’m probably being hard on him. The fire came out of nowhere, and so did he. He thought he was saving my life. But lifting me off my feet and tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes? That was one hundred percent uncalled for.

My thoughts circle around and around until I park my car in the lot behind the shop.

I’m far more restless and irritable than usual after enduring the fire.

I’m sure that’s why I can’t shake the feeling that I want to march down to the fire station and tell that guy, Dustin, to pack up his surfboard and fly home.

Normally, I’m the one baking a welcome to Waterford treat and bringing it by to newcomers.

I sigh again, picturing my kitchen.

Greyson assured me Dustin’s harmless. He seemed amused by the whole scene of that big oaf carrying me out my own front door.

I’ve known Greyson my whole life. He knew better than to side with the rookie.

But he did stand up for him for a minute.

He thought you were in danger. You weren’t moving on your own volition, Emberleigh.

He took matters into his own hands to protect you.

Did he overreact? Yes. Are you safe? Yes .

Then he dropped the subject and checked my lungs for smoke inhalation.

Greyson’s a man of few words, and he smiles about once a year.

So that little speech was nearly more than he’d strung together in front of me in months.