Page 4 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

The bakery is dark and quiet when I push through the back door into the industrial kitchen.

The shop is nestled along Sweetwater Avenue between a formal wear store on one side and a used bookshop on the other.

Sydney and I painted the old brick front white while still keeping some of the original red and tan tones peeking through.

The huge plate glass window out front is covered by an awning.

Our name, Baker From Another Mother , is embossed across the window in a scrolling font.

The smell of sugar and butter fills the air even though the ovens have been off for over twelve hours.

I inhale deeply, finding my calm here in my happy place.

My routine kicks in on autopilot: flicking the lights, grabbing my apron off the hook and walking to the double wide fridge to pull out butter and eggs.

The back door opens and Sydney comes in like a kid bursting in through the screen door on a hot summer day.

“Whew!” She grabs her apron. “My shower was colder than Burgess Falls. I need to get Liam to come look at my water heater. I’m officially a member of the polar plunge club today!”

“I’m thinking Liam has to do more than merely look at that old water heater. You’re going to have to buy a new one.”

“Hush! I haven’t even had my coffee and you’re doing way too much adult responsibility talk for my brain.”

“I’ll put the coffee on. You grab the flour and sugar from the pantry and set the donut dough out to warm.”

We move through the kitchen, Sydney drinks her coffee between frying the donuts and rolling out the cookie dough for our famous sugar cookies.

I bake our specialty muffins and feed the sourdough starter so it will be ready to bake in a few hours.

We’re focused and quiet at times, conversant at others.

Our doors open an hour and a half after we arrived.

The first customers filter in, mostly policemen, a few teachers, nurses, and a construction crew.

As the morning progresses, our shop hums with the bustle of regulars and then, by around nine, we’ve only got a few stay-at-home moms lingering around a table, their infants in strollers, pastries and coffees laid out between them while they grab a moment’s solace and a precious rare slice of adult conversation.

Here in the bakery, the fire feels like a distant nightmare, something I dreamed up.

The morning routine, the parade of familiar customers, and the careful measuring of ingredients to make something predictably delicious all comfort me.

If the fire were in my imagination, the presumptuous firefighter with his slate blue eyes and those arms that lifted me like I was an empty bag of flour would never have entered my home uninvited.

He probably came to Tennessee to become a country music star. Our state doesn’t need to become the next frontier for Californians seeking fame and glory. We’re good, Mister California. Thanks anyway.

“Earth to Emberleigh. Come in?” Sydney’s voice brings me back to reality.

I look down at the box I was filling to take out on delivery, and I chuckle.

“I’m throwing in some freebies.”

“Four freebies?” Sydney’s face is a mask of you’re so busted .

“Okay. Okay. I was distracted—thinking about the fire.”

“You looked like you were ready to kick someone’s butt.”

“That fireman.”

Sydney’s my best friend. My ride-or-die. She’s the closest thing to a sister I ever had. There’s no hiding from her, so I don’t even try.

“Hot and bothered, are we?” Her voice is teasing and light.

“Bothered. Not hot. At all.”

“What’s he like?”

“Annoying. Pushy … Huge.”

“Huge, huh?” Her eyes sparkle with interest.

“In an annoying way. Did you miss the annoying part?”

“He threw you over his shoulder in one movement?”

She’s nearly panting at the thought.

“It wasn’t hot. Trust me. It was … annoying.”

“I don’t know. I think a fireman throwing me over his shoulder would be hot under almost every circumstance I could dream up. I don’t skip the pastries. If he could lift me at all, I’d be pretty gone for.”

“You’re too easy to please.”

“And you might be a little too exacting. He did technically save your life.”

I roll my eyes. It’s something I rarely do.

“He most definitely did not save my life. I wasn’t in danger, Syd.

The fire was contained to two square feet of my kitchen when they arrived.

I had used an extinguisher. It was smoky, but Patrick was right there with the hose.

I wasn’t going to burn to death or even get a char on my fingernails.

Besides, I was about to walk out myself. I just was … in shock.”

“Of course you were.”

Sydney steps in and gives me a hug. I melt into her for a minute even though we’ve got customers in the shop. They’re down at the other end of the store, immersed in their own conversation.

When she steps back, she says, “I think he saw you were in a state of shock and wanted to make sure you were safe.”

I point at her. “Don’t start taking his side. He’s a lummox. Built like a tree …”

“Like a tree?”

“He picked me up, didn’t he?”

“I have to see this man.” Her eyes go all misty and dreamy.

“No. No you don’t. The man thinks he’s some kind of hero.”

I might tell Sydney everything, but I’m definitely not telling her that I’m packing that to-go box as a thank you for the men at the station. Even Dustin. I’m packing it for the crew who showed up—Patrick, Greyson, Cody and David. Of course, they’ll give one to Dustin. I can’t stop them.

Sydney’s laughing. “He thinks he’s a hero because he technically is one. He’s a firefighter. It’s literally in the job description. Besides, a man strong enough to throw you over his shoulder? Yes, please.”

I laugh despite myself.

“Do you think you might be reeling from the whole experience? The stress of what you endured might be making you be a little hard on him.”

“Maybe,” I concede. “A little. Even Greyson said the rookie overreacted. I could have walked out on my own.”

“I think the whole rescue thing is romantic,” Sydney practically swoons.

She looks into my eyes and amends her comment. “I know, I know. We’re not team tree-trunk. I’ve got it.”

“Exactly. We don’t objectify men. We find them attractive from the inside out.”

“So, you find him attractive?” Her tone couldn’t be more delighted or teasing.

“He was wearing his fireman gear. How would I know if he’s attractive?”

“Uh huh. Right.”

I pick a donut hole out of the stack in the case and ping it at her.

“Oh, yes,” she gloats. “That convinces me one hundred percent. You totally didn’t think he was hot as Nashville chicken. Pelt me with baked goods to prove you’ve got no skin in the game.”

“There’s no game and my skin isn’t in it,” I protest. “I’m taking this delivery out. Are you good?”

“I didn’t see a delivery called in. Where’s that one going?”

“It's a special order.” I try to deflect.

Sydney crosses her arms over her chest. “To?”

“The firehouse.” I mumble the phrase so it sounds like furfurhsss .

“The firehouse?” Sydney cracks up. “Oh, girl. You’ve got skin in the game alright.”

“I’m thanking the guys for saving my house.”

“And saving your life.” She winks.

I nearly roll my eyes for the second time in one morning.

“If only Paisley were here, I’d do a ride-along,” Syd laments. “Actually that’s what a CLOSED, BACK IN … sign is for.”

Paisley is one of our part-timers. She’s a sweet homeschool girl in high school. She comes in to help out during days we need an extra hand and regularly on Saturday mornings.

“Nope. I’m good. I don’t want to rush those moms out the door when they’re having such a sweet time over pastries,” I gesture down to their table. “I’ll be right back. Just dropping these off and coming back. Yep. I’ll be … right back.”

I grab the box of donuts and start to head through the shop to my car.

Sydney shouts after me, “Bring back a photo of the rookie. Just sneak one on your phone. I’m on my naturalist kick.” She pauses. “You know I’m fixin’ to be a tree-hugger!” Her laughter follows me out into the parking lot.

I can’t help but smile.

For some unknown reason, my stomach breaks into a flurry of butterflies at the thought of pulling into the fire station.