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Safe in the Fireman's Arms
Tina Radcliffe
Fireman to the RescueRunning away from her sheltered life, Maggie Jones wants to start fresh. Instead, she finds trouble in Paradise, Colorado. Within days she's on the radar of fire chief Jake MacLaughlin. And when her family starts to play matchmaker, Maggie's plans for a quiet life are turned upside down. Though he's the small town's most eligible bachelor, Jake is far from a playboy. The widower isn't interested in dating. But when Maggie transforms from mousy to magnificent, and suitors start lining up, the fireman can't resist a rescue. Pretending to be a couple rekindles their spark for life…and for love.


Fireman to the Rescue
Running away from her sheltered life, Maggie Jones wants to start fresh. Instead, she finds trouble in Paradise, Colorado. Within days she’s on the radar of fire chief Jake MacLaughlin. And when her family starts to play matchmaker, Maggie’s plans for a quiet life are turned upside down. Though he’s the small town’s most eligible bachelor, Jake is far from a playboy. The widower isn’t interested in dating. But when Maggie transforms from mousy to magnificent, and suitors start lining up, the fireman can’t resist a rescue. Pretending to be a couple rekindles their spark for life…and for love.
“I am not looking for a husband!”
A newspaper article to the contrary had a line of men snaked around her shop this morning.
When Jake grinned, she asked, “You find this amusing?”
“More like eye-opening. You’re full of surprises today, Maggie.”
“Am I? Normally I’m as uncomplicated as vanilla ice cream.”
“I like vanilla ice cream.” He leaned closer.
She pointed to the door. “Stand in line.”
“You’re not good for a man’s ego.”
Wait. Here she was discouraging Jake when she should be encouraging him. She mustered a smile. “Maybe you could help me… We’re friends, so maybe we could do some things together.”
“Wait a minute. Are you asking me out?”
“I need my life to return to normal. I want that line outside to go away. I want people to say ‘Maggie who?’”
“This is Paradise. Good luck,” he scoffed, then he stared at her. “I’ll give your plan a shot if it’ll help. Because when you’re distracted, trouble follows.”
Just then reality sneaked up on her. She would now be dating Jake MacLaughlin.
Could things get any worse?
TINA RADCLIFFE has been dreaming and scribbling for years. Originally from western New York, she left home for a tour of duty with the Army Security Agency stationed in Augsburg, Germany, and ended up in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her past careers include certified oncology RN and library cataloger. She recently moved from Denver, Colorado, to the Phoenix, Arizona, area, where she writes heartwarming and fun inspirational romance.
Safe in the
Fireman’s Arms
Tina Radcliffe


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Therefore there is now no condemnation
for those who are in Christ Jesus.
—Romans 8:1
Acknowledgments (#ulink_9be15ca3-95f1-5a5c-9081-68b87b97ecab)
It’s always an honor to thank the very nice people who assist me with my writing from near and far, and this book was no exception.
Many thanks to Nancy Connally, the beta reader for the proposal of this book. Thank you to Joe and Jessica Russo, real backyard agronomists, who answered my call for help. Thank you to my husband, Tom, who does so much to support my writing. I am also indebted to Kellogg’s for Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tarts.
Thanks to my prayer partners on this book, Tessie Russo, Anne Russo Penaz, Missy Tippens and Mary Curry.
I always thank my agent, Meredith Bernstein, and my editor, Giselle Regus, because I know how blessed I am to have them on my team.
Contents
Cover (#ubd9d6d71-002e-5a45-a0c9-b44cbba02ec0)
Back Cover Text (#u44036d1f-b21a-5c7b-a7af-c247cb255067)
Introduction (#ue476f723-8b0c-5f2c-b77f-7384a29fcf0f)
About the Author (#u16fbe32b-55e7-57fb-ba57-0a92522bbb31)
Title Page (#u0ff2fdaa-87de-5ed3-90f4-3f772303d8f4)
Bible Verse (#u3fbbee31-dc7e-58c9-b0d3-91c1eea19a95)
Acknowledgments (#uc29d6f89-6757-526b-a850-bee60c72ce3d)
Chapter One (#u2d517153-f240-512e-8481-004d53b237dc)
Chapter Two (#u550f8a8f-022c-5737-ae2f-6263c2a0dde8)
Chapter Three (#u836a8cc6-64ba-5ddd-bd2a-31e681654081)
Chapter Four (#u96a6e6b6-8962-5beb-88ce-a24c096160d4)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_bf370d92-e3ac-5eb3-a02c-505ca2615125)
Maggie Jones lifted her head from the pages of the technical manual. Fire-alarm horns blared in the distance.
Six long blasts and one short.
Though technology had come to Paradise, Colorado, the old fire horns were still on duty. When Maggie was young and spent all her summers in Paradise, she could pinpoint the location of fires by counting the blasts. Back only a week, she was out of practice.
Through the repair store’s big glass window she noted the clear, baby-blue sky painted with wisps of clouds. At a little past 1:00 p.m. on a Wednesday, it was cool for June, barely seventy degrees. A breeze blew in through the screened front entrance and slid over Maggie before moving out through the rear of the shop.
Maggie sniffed the air and sure enough she did smell smoke. It was awfully close, and had a pungent odor. Almost like...eggs.
Eggs?
The manual flew through the air as she whipped open the door that divided the store and ran into the back room.
Black smoke billowed from a small kettle on a hot plate. With the current wind direction, most of the smoke was being sucked outside through the screen door, right into the alley.
“No. No. No.”
Two hours ago she’d set the eggs to boil.
Two hours since she’d been lost reading about the intricacies of a computerized toaster. Who’d have thought three little eggs could produce so much foul-smelling smoke?
“I am doomed.” As she mumbled the words, the door behind her flew open and bounced on its hinges, then slammed against the wall.
He filled the doorway.
A fireman clad in a heavy, mustard-and-gray jacket, carrying a red ax. His features were obscured by a yellow helmet and face mask. Intense eyes assessed her and the situation.
Although he was a large man, he moved quickly. In two strides he’d crossed the room and reached in front of her to tug the hot-plate cord from the wall. With a gloved hand he grabbed the handle of the blackened aluminum pot and tossed it into the sink.
Before Maggie could blink, he aimed the shop’s fire extinguisher and blasted away. The little kettle rattled against the porcelain sink. Yanking off his gloves, he propped open the back door to further ventilate the room.
“Code 10-35. Under control. Over.” His words, spoken into the field radio, were clipped as he nodded toward the front of the store, indicating Maggie should follow. She did, reading the back of his heavy coat. Chief MacLaughlin, PVFD.
In the front room two more firefighters guarded the store. Chief MacLaughlin waved them outside with the mere flick of his wrist and forefinger.
Outside on the front walk, yet another set of firemen stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of Paradise’s Engine Number One, where the vehicle’s red and blue lights were still flashing.
Maggie grimaced. All this because she craved an egg salad sandwich.
“Don’t move.” The chief’s gaze pinned her. “I’ll be back.”
Pressing herself against the cool metal counter, Maggie obeyed, while whispering a silent plea for heavenly assistance under her breath.
He moved through the crowd gathering on the sidewalk to speak to his men, who shot curious glances through the window at her.
Maggie looked away and hung her head for a moment before attempting to rally. Come on, Maggie. Pull it together. What would Uncle Bob do?
Her favorite uncle would laugh and say this was good for business and probably announce a fire sale. If only Maggie was that confident. A mere twenty-four hours ago she’d sent Uncle Bob on a three-week fishing trip with assurances that she would run the fix-it shop and take care of everything.
She’d taken care of things, all right. Nearly burned down his livelihood.
Though she tried not to, she heard her parents and ex-fiancé whispering accusations in her ear. Maggie Jones has done it again. Gotten lost in her little world, forgetting everything going on around her.
They were right. Only this time she would have to deal with Captain Macho for her sins. Maggie grasped her ponytail and pulled it tight. She slid her glasses to the top of her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
She began to count to ten. She’d give her Aunt Betty that long to show up. As for her cousin Susan, she could probably stop at five.
“Mags. Nice job.”
“Five,” Maggie said aloud as Susan pushed her way through the sidewalk gawkers and firemen groupies and into the store.
Susan smiled, smoothed her blond coif and adjusted her silk sheath. “I’m so impressed. It seems I have underestimated you, cousin. Leave it to you to think of smoke to attract Jake.”
Maggie frowned. “Who is Jake?”
“That would be me.”
Both women turned.
“Excuse us, Susan,” Chief Jake MacLaughlin said as he tugged off his helmet. “I’d like to have a word with your cousin.”
Susan slipped out, and a familiar gray head peeked in; Aunt Betty, wearing a flour-dusted canvas apron over her slacks and a blouse.
“Margaret. Oh, my dear. Are you all right? I was helping out at Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery when I heard the sirens.”
“Everything is fine, Mrs. Jones. False alarm. I’ll be through with your niece in a minute. Just a little paperwork. Would you please wait outside?”
“Yes, Chief,” her aunt said, immediately backing up.
Maggie looked Jake MacLaughlin up and down.
“You do that quite well,” she stated.
“Do what?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Take charge. You silenced both Susan and my aunt.”
“Practice.” He shrugged, pulled out a pen and began to write on an official-looking, aluminum clipboard.
Practice? Or perhaps it was the uniform that added to the aura of power and strength. His well-worn gray-and-mustard coat covered wide shoulders and fell open in front to reveal red suspenders over a navy T-shirt.
Maggie assessed him with the due diligence granted any new problem. With pragmatic order she took in each detail, from his boots—size thirteen—to his face. She estimated his age somewhere around forty.
His skin was lightly tanned, an almost golden shade. Laugh lines accented the corners of his eyes. Dark stubble shadowed his cheekbones and chin. He hadn’t shaved today. Maybe it was his day off?
She knew that Paradise’s fire department consisted of a volunteer crew. So what else did the man do?
Curious, she continued to stare.
Chief MacLaughlin rubbed a hand over his forehead, pushing short, sun-streaked brown hair up and away from his damp skin. Turning slightly, his gaze locked with hers. His irises were amber with dark rims. Dark lashes framed his eyes. The entire effect reminded her of a lion.
Noting her inspection, his eyes widened. He blinked and cleared his throat.
“So you’re Susan’s cousin?”
“Yes. I’m Maggie Jones.”
“You’re nothing like Susan.”
She winced. The man had a knack for the obvious. No, she was nothing like Susan. Maggie was the geeky tomboy, and Susan, the beautiful former beauty queen.
Why was it that this time, in front of this particular man, the truth pinched like a pair of too-small shoes, constantly reminding a person they didn’t fit?
Maggie found herself suddenly conscious of her shapeless gray T-shirt, ancient jeans and well-worn, black high-tops. She clamped her arms tightly across her chest and resisted the urge to hide her glasses in her pocket.
“I didn’t mean—” he said.
“Oh, I get it,” she interrupted, with a dismissive wave of her hand.
His lips formed a tight line, as Jake frowned. “No, ma’am. I don’t think you do.”
A knock on the glass outside the window caught her attention. A young fireman grinned at them, and then offered a thumbs-up gesture with a questioning expression.
Jake returned the thumbs-up and turned back to Maggie. “Look, it’s the middle of the week and I’ve got four men outside who left their regular jobs to be here. I’ll have to leave explanations for another time.”
A palpable silence stretched between them as he flipped open the metal notebook.
“Identification?”
“Identification? But I told you. I’m Maggie Jones. You know my aunt, Betty Jones. This is Uncle Bob’s shop.”
He nodded. “Still need your ID.”
“Sheriff Lawson can vouch for me.”
“Sam and his deputy are on a call. Normally they’d be here taking a report, as well.”
Maggie reached over the counter for her purse. She released a short breath and handed him her driver’s license.
He took the laminated card and placed it on top of the paperwork. “Denver? What brings you to our town?”
“I’ve been coming to Paradise for years. Why, I spent every summer here with my aunt and uncle when I was a kid. I’m practically a native.”
“For years?” His gaze met hers. “How is it I’ve never met you?”
“You’re older than me.”
“Ouch.” This time he winced.
“I didn’t mean... I just meant...” She closed her mouth before her other foot attempted to jump in, as well.
“You know, I think I vaguely remember you,” he returned. “Skinny kid with big glasses and braids. You followed Susan around.”
“Touché,” Maggie muttered. “And as you can see, I haven’t changed all that much.”
He raised a brow. “A little sensitive?”
“Not at all.”
“If you say so.” His face gave away nothing. “Denver is your current address?”
“No. I’m, well, sort of in flux.” Maggie pulled on a hangnail. “Right now, I’m staying on Mulberry Lane.”
“Susan’s old place?”
She nodded as her distracted gaze took in his large hands. Capable hands.
“Phone number?”
“Phone number?” she repeated, confused.
He tapped the clipboard. “For the paperwork.”
Maggie rattled off her cell-phone number. “You aren’t going to charge me for this little visit, are you?”
“The fire department is a service of the town. Can’t remember charging anyone before.” His gaze met hers. “Unless you plan to be a repeat offender.”
Her head jerked up. “Of course not.”
His lips twitched. “How long will you be in town?”
“That’s a little hard to say. At least three weeks. I’m managing the shop while my Uncle Bob is fishing.”
“Fly-fishing. Best time of year. Spring runoff. We’re really going to be slammed with tourists when tournament registration begins.”
“Tournament?”
“Fishing tournament on the Rio Grande.”
“I imagine that’s good for the economy,” she said.
“It is.” He nodded. “Then back to Denver?”
“What?” She cocked her head.
“Then you’ll be heading back to Denver?”
“Is this for your report, as well?”
“Just being neighborly, ma’am.”
Ma’am? The cockles of her heart were officially rankled. “I don’t know what I’ll be doing in three weeks, Chief MacLaughlin. Praying about what I want to be when I grow up, I imagine.”
He blinked and froze. Then he began to laugh, a deep, rich sound that took Maggie by surprise. His eyes did crinkle at the corners as she suspected they would, making his face open up with even more masculine appeal.
Charming. That was the first word that popped into her head. Yes. He was charming. Far too charming for her own good.
“I was being serious,” she finally said. More serious than he would ever understand.
“I’ll bet you were.” Chief MacLaughlin grabbed his helmet and gave her a short salute. “Pleasure to meet you, Maggie Jones. Stay safe.”
“Ah, um, yes. Thank you,” Maggie said, her face heating at the sound of her name on his lips.
Her gaze followed him out to the street, where he climbed into the passenger side of the truck, his movements lithe and easy, despite the heavy layers of gear.
The fire engine’s horn sounded before the vehicle pulled away from the curb.
Maggie shook her head, willing herself out of the daze that had wrapped itself around her.
“I’m simply going to have to stay out of his way,” she murmured. “Because Jake MacLaughlin is an exceptionally dangerous man.”
* * *
“Attention, shoppers. We’re serving free coffee and carrot-cake muffins with lemon icing from Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery at the front of the store.”
Jake looked up from the paperwork on his desk as the announcement blared over the hardware-store loudspeaker.
What’s he up to now? Ever since he’d semiretired, Jake’s father spent his extra time divided between his newly self-appointed roles as marketing director for the store and head of Jake’s nonexistent reelection committee. Jacob “Mack” MacLaughlin Senior was oblivious to the fact that Paradise Hardware was the only hardware store in Paradise. There was no competition.
Jake set aside the monthly inventory folder and shoved back his chair. Taking long strides through the aisles he followed the scent of fresh coffee.
“Nice picture, Jake.”
“Huh?” Jake turned.
At the end of aisle one, near the cash register, several customers were gathered around the Paradise Gazette as they munched their muffins.
One of the regulars shoved the front page of the paper at Jake. Smack-dab in the middle was a photo of him in turnout gear standing next to Maggie Jones.
She looked like she’d taken a bite out of something sour.
Great. Just great. It had been pretty obvious yesterday that she wasn’t in awe of the truck or the uniform like most of the women in town. He could almost feel her glare from the two blocks that separated the hardware store and the fix-it shop. Somehow the photo op would turn out to be his fault, adding fuel to her ire. The woman didn’t like him. Of that, Jake was certain. Why that bothered him, he didn’t know, but it did.
His father clapped him on the back. “Nice picture, huh?”
“Dad, how did they get this picture?”
Ever happy-go-lucky, Mack grinned and ran a hand through his thick, silver hair. “Me. I took it through the window of Bob’s shop. Told you that photography class would come in handy. Great publicity, huh? The election is coming up, after all.”
“I’m running unopposed.”
“No matter. This will hit home with the voters. You’re a hero, Jacob.”
“Burned eggs, Dad. It was a 10-35. Unnecessary alarm system activation.”
“Who’s that in the picture with you?” Mack asked.
“Maggie Jones. You’ll note that she doesn’t look real happy.”
Mack narrowed his eyes and pulled the paper close to his bifocals. “Can’t hardly see her face. Bob’s niece, right?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s a smart one, that girl. I brought that broken reel of mine to her and she figured out what was wrong with it before I even left the shop. You know, the one you’ve been working on?”
Jake gave a tight nod.
“I heard from Duffy that you two really hit it off.”
“Duffy said that?”
“Said it sure took you a long time to get her statement.”
Jake folded up the newspaper. “Don’t listen to Duffy, Dad. He’s a troublemaker.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“Not anymore.” Jake handed his father the paper.
Mack laughed and shot a glance at the big, stainless-steel wall clock. “Hey, I nearly forgot. Bitsy Harmony called. She said to remind you that you’ve got an appointment at the photographer’s.”
“Tell me again why I’m going to the photographers?”
“The fire department fund-raiser at the Paradise Fair.”
“The raffle.” Jake bit out the words.
“Right.”
“Bitsy says it’s going to bring in lots of revenue for the fire department as well as the auxiliary. A win-win for everyone.”
“Since when did you get so tight with Bitsy?”
“We’re friends. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
Jake grunted in response, as his mood moved south. Bitsy’s first idea had been a bachelor auction. He’d thought he’d effectively torched that notion, but when he hadn’t been looking the raffle had taken off like a bottle rocket.
He had to give the woman credit. This time the head of the Paradise Ladies Auxiliary had played it smart. She’d gotten a fire started on the raffle before he’d had a chance to snuff it out. The entire town, including Jake’s own men, had embraced the idea. All he could do now was smile and go along with it.
Because, yeah, it was an election year.
“Think you could watch the store while I go?” Jake asked.
“Sure. Glad to help you out. But come right back. I’ve got a meeting with our web guy at noon. He drove all the way up here from the Springs.”
“We have a web guy? I thought Duffy was doing the webpage.”
“Bitsy says it’s time for us to go pro, son.”
Bitsy again?
His father continued. “This guy is going to redesign the site and get the store some social media. Good for business. Might even get us Tweeter next.”
“Twitter.”
Mack released a hearty chuckle. “Is that what it’s called?”
Jake shook his head as he exited and walked across the blacktop to his truck.
He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, making a hard right at the last minute. Why not take the long way around to the photography studio, past Bob Jones’s shop? Make sure everything was okay with his fellow shopkeepers.
Or possibly, just one Maggie Jones.
He’d never admit it to anyone, but he’d been thinking about her a lot since yesterday. Maybe it was her jaunty ponytail the color of warm caramel. Or the way she chewed on her lower lip as she concentrated. Or the way she looked at him, with those owlish brown eyes that seemed to see...everything. Next to her cousin Susan, a man might overlook the mousy brunette.
That would be a mistake.
It was the strangest thing, he mused. The incident report paperwork should have taken five minutes, tops. But he couldn’t stop asking questions. Couldn’t say what had gotten into him, either. Except that Maggie Jones disturbed him. That concerned Jake, because he hadn’t been disturbed in a very long time.
At his age he had no energy to put into women. Generally he didn’t have to, either. Since his wife died, women naturally seemed to think he needed taking care of. He didn’t. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop them from trying to get his attention, though he’d never shown an interest before.
Thankfully things were slowing down. Of the twenty-two men on the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department, he was one of the oldest. Lately he’d started to feel his age.
Jake inhaled as he glanced out the window of his pickup toward the outline of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in the distance. The scent of pine and clean air, mixed with all that was Paradise, filled his senses.
Paradise had healed Jake more than he deserved. More than he could have ever hoped. He could never finish paying penance for his sins. For the life lost that day ten years ago. He knew it and he assumed God knew, as well. Still he managed to get through each day with a smile and a sense of humor. That was all a man could ask. Right?
Or maybe not. All he knew for sure was that in the last twenty-four hours he’d started thinking about things he never imagined he’d have a chance to ever consider again.
The wind shifted and Jake smelled something else in the breeze. Change. Yeah. He knew it was coming, yet he didn’t embrace the fact. No, these days he was only wary. Maybe a little scared, too.
“What lies ahead, Lord?” Jake murmured. “Prepare me. Whatever it is.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_e6f94308-212e-56b3-bced-78da4da89b65)
Maggie reached for her denim jacket and headed outside, where Susan waited at the curb in a gleaming, red convertible sports car. Her husband, Al, owned a new-car dealership in Monte Vista and humored his wife by letting her test-drive a vehicle every now and again. Maggie pulled open the door and slid in.
She looked over at Susan, who wore a bright red halter sundress, the exact shade of her car, and a wide-brimmed straw hat. Then she glanced down at her own jeans and beige scoop-neck top. “I’m underdressed.” The words were a dour admission.
“No worries.” Susan smiled. “We’ll get you into my boutique this week and liven up your wardrobe.”
Maggie mustered a weak smile.
“Any problems with the house?” Susan asked.
“No. It’s perfect. I’ve already planted herbs. I’ve got a spot along the fence where I’m going to set up my hives, and next week I’ll start planning my garden.”
“Wait a minute. Back up. Hives? As in bees?”
“Yes. I’ve ordered two honey-bee boxes.”
“Bees. Okay.” Susan shook her head. “Bees aside, how is the house itself? There’s not much furniture in there.”
“Enough for me. Right now, I’m just grateful it was available.”
“Truly a God thing,” Susan said. “We nearly sold the place, but the deal fell through at the last minute.”
“I’m very grateful to you and Al for letting me rent it from you.”
“I don’t want your money. You’re family.”
“I need to pay my way, Susan.”
“Fine for now, Mags, I’m just thrilled to have you back in Paradise,” Susan said.
Maggie shook her head. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you and your folks and Paradise until this week.”
“Well, it’s awfully sweet of you to give Daddy the chance to go fishing. This is his best birthday present ever. Not many people would dare to take on a shop that fixes everything from bicycles to computers.”
“Eclectic. Not unlike me. It makes perfect sense for me to run the shop, and I really enjoy it.”
She did, and she loved taking things apart and repairing them. In a perfect world she’d hang out at the shop on a regular basis. Unfortunately her bank account didn’t agree. A real job was her next priority.
She wasn’t going to think about the one she’d quit in Denver, nor her recent and depressing past. Not today. Today was Saturday and another day toward the future. A future she would choose. Not her parents.
They drove down the main drag of Paradise, toward the outskirts of town, where the ballpark and the new fairgrounds waited.
“Where am I volunteering?” Maggie asked, taking in the view of the tall conifers that lined the road.
“The bait shop.”
Maggie shot straight up in her seat. “The bait shop? Of all the places to volunteer, you pick the bait shop? I don’t know anything about fishing.”
“Think, Maggie. Where will all the men be? Where they sign up for their fishing license, of course.”
“Yes. Of course. No-brainer.” Maggie nodded. “What I don’t understand is why you think I care? I only just recently got rid of a man. I am not looking for another.”
“Margaret Jones, are you going to sit there and tell me you didn’t find Jake MacLaughlin to be the best-looking man you have ever set your eyes upon.”
“What does he have to do with this conversation?” Maggie sputtered.
“Answer my question.”
“Oh, he’s handsome, all right, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I thought so.” Susan released a satisfied smile.
“You’re married. Why are you looking?”
“I’m merely prescreening the field as my duty to you.”
Maggie released an unladylike snort.
“You never know,” Susan continued, “Jake could be your one.”
“One what?”
“The one.”
“Susan, I already met the one, and as it turned out he was only interested in me because of the potential for a tenure recommendation from my parents.”
“That man was one loser. You were smart to run.”
“Tell that to my parents, who are no doubt, right this moment, returning several dozen wedding presents.”
Susan shrugged. “So the timing wasn’t the best.”
An understatement. Maggie sighed, recalling the hefty check she’d sent her parents to cover the cost of the last-minute wedding cancellations.
“Let’s focus on the positive.” Susan reached over and patted Maggie on the arm. “Lucky for you, Al and Daddy won’t be back for another nineteen days. I can devote all my extra time to helping you.”
Maggie slouched down against the hand-stitched, leather bucket seats. “Save me, Lord,” she mumbled as Susan zipped the little red car into the fairgrounds parking lot.
The bright banner across the front entrance proclaimed Paradise’s annual Fair. In smaller print attendees were reminded that all proceeds supported the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department and the Paradise Ladies Auxiliary. Susan quickly located a spot dismissed as too small in the sea of monster pickup trucks and pulled in.
Maggie got out of the car and stretched while she waited for Susan to remove her stuff from the trunk. Barely holding back a huge grin she glanced around at all the families headed toward the fairgrounds. Tipping her head back she let the warm sun kiss her face. It didn’t get any better than this—small town, population seventeen hundred and four, unobstructed view of the San Juan Mountains to the west, the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to the east and brilliant powder-blue skies as far as she could see.
A thud from the trunk interrupted her musings. Maggie turned. “Susan, do you need help?”
“No, no, I’m just doing a quick check. One of my girls is manning a booth for the boutique. I brought along some extra inventory.” She popped her head up from the car’s trunk and waved a hand. “Go ahead. I don’t want to make you late... The bait-shop tent is right next to the information booth. I’ll come and get you for the big raffle. Remember, it’s in about two hours.”
Maggie set off, a silly grin on her face as she took in the sights. The smell of waffle cakes, sausages and barbecued turkey legs teased her senses. Barely eleven in the morning, and already lines were forming.
She dodged a teenage couple with arms looped around each other, and then stopped midstep at a huge poster tacked to the side of the information booth.
Jake MacLaughlin, his strong profile set against a background of muted red, white and blue. The sign read Reelect the Chief.
The man was everywhere. She hurried her steps, navigating around people to get to the large bait-shop tent set up by the chamber of commerce. There was a crowd gathered outside, waiting to get licenses. Fishing was one of the biggest tourist draws to Paradise in the summer months.
Maggie grabbed a carpenter’s apron and an instruction sheet from the cashier and got to work. It took less than thirty minutes for Maggie to get through the first deluge of customers. She turned her attention to stocking a table with applications for fishing licenses and entry forms for the upcoming midsummer fishing tournament on Paradise Lake.
Suddenly goose bumps danced over her arms. She looked up. Jake MacLaughlin had walked into the tent. Maggie slipped her glasses into her pocket and adjusted her ponytail. When Jake’s glance met hers she knew exactly what he was thinking.
Trouble.
She read the words on his face. The man thought she was trouble. He turned slightly as though to leave, then he suddenly did an about-face, and walked over.
“Don’t say it,” she said.
“Say what?” he asked. His jungle-cat eyes twinkled and it was clear he had failed at all attempts to keep a straight face.
“‘Burned any eggs, lately?’”
“You got it all wrong. I was going to ask if you’d seen your picture in the newspaper,” he said.
“Could we not talk about that, either?”
“Fine by me.”
She willed herself to concentrate on dividing up the supply of pens.
Jake cleared his throat. “Mind if I fill out an application?”
Maggie’s face warmed. “Sorry. Fishing license or tournament application?”
“Both.”
Of course he was an overachiever. She handed him the forms and tried not to stare as he filled them out. Maggie was used to tall, wiry academics with pale skin. Jake MacLaughlin was larger than life, with the build of a football player. Yet, he seemed keenly intelligent. A puzzle. She liked puzzles.
He lifted his head and met her gaze.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She glanced away, her face heated yet again.
When she turned back he held out two twenty-dollar bills.
“May I see some ID?” she asked.
“You’re kidding, right?
She shrugged. “No ID, no entry.”
“Turnabout, huh?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Right.” He flipped out his billfold and Maggie took her time reading the birth date on the license. It was exactly as she suspected. Midlife crisis waiting to happen.
“Here you go,” she said. “Your entry ticket, plus a coupon for a free cupcake from Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery.”
“You keep the coupon.” He patted his stomach. “I’m watching my calories.”
Her gaze was drawn to his flat abdomen, broad muscular chest and biceps. Oh, he looked good in the navy T-shirt with the fire-company logo on it, the cotton fabric stretched taut against his muscles. And he knew it. She barely managed to maintain her “I am not impressed” stance.
They both turned as a crowd of people entered the tent. When the group moved toward the registration table, Jake was effectively trapped behind the table with Maggie.
“Hey, Chief. Working hard?” A young man with a navy shirt that matched Jake’s smiled and winked at Maggie.
“You know it,” Jake returned.
To Maggie’s surprise he didn’t leave her side but began to hand out forms and pens.
“You don’t have to stay,” Maggie murmured.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Jake asked with a wry grin.
“No. I’m simply saying that I’m sure you probably have other places you need to be.”
“Nope.”
As the license lines grew, they developed a companionable and efficient pattern. Maggie collected the money, slipping it into her apron pockets, and Jake took the completed forms. She noted he didn’t check ID as she had. Apparently he knew everyone in Paradise.
She remained acutely aware of his presence, especially the occasional moments their hands collided.
“Sorry,” she said, drawing back quickly.
He mumbled an apology in return.
“Do you need to be somewhere?” she asked when there was a momentary lull.
“Trying to get rid of me yet again, huh? You know, a guy could get a complex around you.”
“I’m trying to be polite. I appreciate your help. I don’t think I could have handled that crowd alone.”
Jake smiled. “Anytime.”
“Anytime, what?” Susan interrupted as she walked into the tent.
“Anytime is a good time for fishing.” Jake grinned. “Right, Maggie?”
“Yes. Correct.” The brochures in her hand slipped to the table and she carefully collected them.
“Well, ladies,” Jake said, “I guess I’ll be off.” He gave Maggie a quick wink.
Embarrassed, she only nodded, while Susan scrutinized them both.
“We should go,” Susan said. “They’re closing the tents for an hour during the raffle. I’ve already gotten us seats up close and personal.”
Maggie took off her apron, turned her money in to the cashier and followed an impatient Susan.
“Hurry, hurry,” her cousin urged, linking her arm through Maggie’s. “We don’t want to miss a thing.”
“Isn’t your mom here today?” Maggie asked, looking around.
“She’s backstage helping the Paradise Ladies Auxiliary with the pies.”
“Pies? Some sort of blue-ribbon thing?”
“Sort of. They raffle pies and cakes that were awarded ribbons earlier this morning. Then they’ll start raffling all sorts of other delectable things.”
Maggie followed Susan to a reserved seating area close to the stage. “How did you get these great seats?”
“Al is a sponsor.”
“You know, I don’t remember any fairs when I was growing up.”
“That’s because this is the first year.” Susan handed Maggie five tickets. “For the dessert raffle. I put yours in for the chocolate éclairs. We want this to be a memorable day for you. Oh, and keep an eye on Bitsy Harmony’s peach pie. Third from the left. I’m not letting anyone else beat me to that pie.”
“Who is Bitsy Harmony?”
“Oh, you remember her. She’s a close friend of my mother’s. Tall with a silver-white bun on the top of her head? Bitsy runs the auxiliary and she’s just the best pie baker in the valley.”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“That’s probably a good thing. It’s best to stay under Bitsy’s radar if you can.”
“Duly noted.”
Susan shoved a fistful of tickets into her purse.
“How many tickets did you buy for the peach pie?” Maggie asked.
“A few.” Susan’s laughter trilled into the air.
A moment later, the mayor picked up the microphone and, after a few ear-piercing squeals, began the event. It was a simple, organized process. Names were drawn from glass bowls that sat in front of each baked item.
After seeing all those tickets in her purse, it was no surprise when Susan’s name was drawn for a peach pie. Her cousin claimed her prize with loud gushing noises of total and complete amazement. As she thanked the mayor, Susan made a brazen plug for her boutique.
One by one, the desserts began to disappear. Maggie was more than thrilled not to win one of the éclairs. There was absolutely no way was she going up on stage in front of the entire town.
When the stage was cleared, poster boards were set on display stands. Each had the handsome, smiling face of one of Paradise’s single and therefore apparently, very eligible volunteer firefighters. If the excited thrum of female chatter was any indicator, this was going to be the highlight of the raffles.
Maggie glanced at each poster, noting Jake MacLaughlin’s face on the last board. He took a good picture, she’d give him that. The photographer managed to catch that wounded-hero look in the black-and-white shot of him with his helmet on, the chin strap loose. The piercing cat eyes seemed to follow Maggie. And then there was that barely there smile on his full lips. It was almost as though he held a secret deep inside.
She pondered the thought for a moment, and then shook her head. What an imagination she had. Jake was hardly wounded. He seemed to be a carefree bachelor. No doubt there was a long trail of broken hearts behind him.
She turned and scanned the crowd, spotting him at the back, taking what looked to be a good-natured ribbing from his buddies. When his gaze connected with hers he shrugged his shoulders and grinned, unabashed.
“Unbelievable. Church ladies auctioning off men,” Maggie said to Susan.
“No, no. Jake shot down the auction idea.”
“Jake did?”
“Uh-huh. This is a raffle. No auctioning. If you win, for your ticket you get a date to the Founder’s Day supper next Saturday with the fireman whose helmet your ticket was picked from. We raise money for a great cause, too.”
“Remind me what cause that is.”
“The Paradise Volunteer Fire Department and the Ladies Auxiliary. The auxiliary supports all the local churches, missions and other charitable causes. So we’re giving to the Kingdom of God, as well. He would be very pleased.”
Maggie opened her mouth at the logic and then gave up. Who was she to judge? Besides, she suspected the Lord would advise staying out of this particular discussion.
Hoots and whistles exploded through the crowd as winning names were gingerly plucked from the inverted yellow helmets. Each winner enthusiastically claimed their poster and an envelope with tickets inside.
As each moment passed the mayor inched closer to Jake’s poster. The crowd began clapping in a rhythmic pattern, chanting the name of Paradise’s fire chief.
“This is getting exciting,” Susan chirped.
“You think so?” Maggie barely resisted rolling her eyes.
“You bet I do.” Susan leaned over to her large leopard satchel sitting on the floor. “Oh my. Silly me. I almost forgot. I bought you a few tickets.” She thrust a stack of tickets at Maggie.
“Tickets?” Maggie startled, nearly falling out of her seat in an effort to gather the chain of paper as the roll tumbled from her lap onto the ground. “Susan. A few is like two or three.” She blinked, stunned as realization hit. “Wait. A. Minute. What exactly are these tickets for?”
“Why, for Jake, of course. There’s only a hundred and forty-seven.” She frowned. “I thought I brought more money, but I left my checkbook in my other purse.”
Maggie choked. “One hundred and forty-seven tickets for Jake? Are you nuts?”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my cousin and the firemen of Paradise. You know, Al’s on the board of the PVFD. He’d be so proud of me for this.”
As Maggie folded the tickets into an orderly pile the clapping ceased. People looked around the tent in wide-eyed anticipation.
A cold chill passed over Maggie. Mouth dry, she looked up at the stage and then to Susan.
The microphone screeched and crackled. “Is Margaret Jones here?”
“Susan,” she slowly whispered through terse lips.
“Hush, now. You’ll embarrass us in front of the mayor. Go on up there,” her cousin admonished.
Maggie stood, swallowed and took a shuddering breath. Amid the cheers and applause she marched stiffly to the stage, grateful they were seated so close.
The mayor put his hand on her arm and spoke into the microphone. “Ah, just a minute there, Margaret.” He glanced around. “I’m sure our citizens would like to meet Bob and Betty’s niece. Margaret is managing the fix-it shop while Bob is gone fishing, and of course you all saw her face on the front page of the Paradise paper this week.”
A wave of chuckles spread across the audience.
Maggie attempted a smile, knowing the result was sickly at best. She moved from the stage, down the stairs and directly past Susan and the crowd, her eyes fixed forward. Without thinking she kept walking until she reached the sanctuary of the bait tent.
Stunned, one hand clutched the envelope against her hammering heart. Her other hand held the tangled ball of ticket stubs. Jake’s poster slid from under her arm as she sagged against the nearest table.
“So, we have a date.” Jake’s cheerful voice reached her before he did.
Startled, Maggie straightened. She carefully gathered her pride around her, but didn’t face him. “I imagine you’re used to this sort of thing.
“Used to it? No way. Though I will admit I’m relieved one of the ladies from the retirement home didn’t win.”
She dared to finally turn and look at him. Oh, those laughing eyes.
“Out of curiosity, how many tickets do you have there?” he asked.
“One hundred and forty-seven.”
His eyes rounded. “Whoa. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or terrified.”
“Neither. Susan bought them.”
He frowned. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
“Don’t I?” She shoved the envelope into her back pocket, and slid the poster and tickets under the table.
Jake rubbed his chin. “I hope you’re not planning to back down. It wouldn’t look good for the chief to get stood up.”
“Yes, and in an election year, too.”
Jake paused. “How’d you know about that?”
“Lucky guess.” Maggie picked up a bottle of water from the table. Lifting it to her lips, she drained the entire eight ounces and then aimed for the recycle bin. Her shot was impeccable, echoing through the tent.
Fortified, she met Jake’s gaze again. “Rest assured, I wouldn’t dream of standing you up, Chief MacLaughlin. I’m going to think of this as my civic duty.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_70a92810-d4cc-5317-87e0-dfbf4984f102)
“Here’s the problem, Susan. I don’t do dresses.” Maggie glanced around the boutique from the door’s threshold and shivered.
Susan patted Maggie’s hand before gently urging her farther into the shop. “I know, honey, but you’re going to have to work with me. I consider it a personal challenge to my creative genius to find you the perfect ensemble for this appointment with destiny.”
Maggie closed her eyes and then opened them slowly. She was pretty certain she’d fallen into a Colorado rabbit hole and would never find her way out.
“Dresses aside, your entire wardrobe is a cry for help. Why, you don’t own anything, besides blue jeans, that isn’t in the neutral family.”
Maggie would concede that on that particular point, unfortunately her trendy cousin was spot-on.
Susan continued. “You probably are unaware that I am the personal shopper for Bernice Harris.”
“Bernice who?”
“Bernice Harris, the reigning Bison Queen of Paradise Valley. She’ll be on a float during the parade Saturday.”
“Parade?” Maggie frowned. “What parade?”
“This weekend is huge in Paradise. The Founder’s Day parade is Saturday morning before the supper. Why, this weekend heralds the onslaught of tourist season. So you can see why we have our work cut out for us.”
“We do?”
“Oh, yes. It’s already Monday. You’ll need several new outfits, besides a dress.”
Maggie uttered a noncommittal sound as she considered a dash for the door. What was the point? Since they were kids Susan and her long legs had always arrived everywhere first.
“Did I tell you that Bernice asked me to go on tour with her? Naturally I turned her down. I’m needed here. This boutique is my calling. I’m sort of a missionary to the fashionless.” Susan offered a benevolent smile. “You, my dear cousin, shall be my coup de grâce. If I can make you look good I can make anyone look good.”
Maggie flinched at the words, before glancing at her utilitarian leather watch. “I’m on my lunch break.”
“Enough time to get started.”
Susan reached out a hand and plucked Maggie’s tan cotton shirt between her thumb and forefinger. “These clothes you wear. They do nothing for you.” She released the fabric and rubbed her hands together.
“What exactly did you have in mind, Susan?”
Susan’s finely shaped brows knit together in deep thought. “Well, first, I’d like to see Chief MacLaughlin brought to his knees.”
“This is not about Jake MacLaughlin,” Maggie sputtered.
“When men are in the equation it’s always about them.”
“No! My goal is simply to not embarrass myself. Couldn’t you help me to blend in? Not stand out.”
Susan shook her head and sighed. “Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. You’re the smartest woman I know. Assistant professor of physical science at age thirty-two. Dr. Margaret Jones. Very impressive.” She crossed her arms and tapped her toe. “Why is it, do you suppose, that you have set such a low bar for your personal life?”
Susan’s words hit the target with impeccable precision. “Um...I...” The air whooshed from Maggie’s lungs, deflating her outrage.
Okay, fine. Susan was right. Maggie had spent a lifetime making her parents’ priorities her priorities, barely eking out a life of her own. Truth be told, she’d never even lived on her own until now. Pretty much everything in her life was a reflection of her parents’ choices.
“Well?” Susan asked as she continued to tap an annoying beat on the tile floor.
Resistance was futile. Maggie took a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s do this.”
“That’s the attitude. Nothing like a little martyrdom to spark a well-deserved change.”
Maggie glared.
“You go right into that first dressing room.” Susan wiggled her fingers toward the back of the shop. “I’ll bring you some things to try on.”
No sooner had Maggie stepped into the tiny dressing room than the louver doors burst open and Susan entered with a tall stack of clothing in her arms.
“You can’t be serious,” Maggie said.
“We’re simply checking for sizing. If they fit, put them in one pile. Those that don’t fit you can put in another pile.”
“Fit. I’ll give you fit,” Maggie muttered as she quickly held up each garment, discarding most as too revealing, clingy or outrageous.
“How are you doing in there?”
“All done.” Maggie came out holding two hangers. One with an eyelet-trimmed, peach peasant blouse and the other with a pair of forest-green capris.
Susan looked from the garments to Maggie. “They aren’t neutral, I’ll give you that.”
“Good. Right?”
“It’s a start. Now look what I found in today’s shipment from Denver.” Susan waved a coral dress on a pink satin hanger through the air.
The fabric shimmered and shined in a manner that definitely said “look at me.”
“A dress?” Maggie asked.
“Not just any dress, this is your dress for the supper. No point in trying anything else on. This is you, and there isn’t another one like it in the area. You will be the envy of every woman in a twenty-five-mile radius.” Susan shoved the dress at her. “I’ll wait right out here.”
Maggie slipped the confection over her head. “I can’t breathe,” she muttered, easing the fabric over her waist and setting it on her hips.
“Breathe later. Come on out here.” Susan tugged on Maggie’s arm, pulling her to the center of the shop.
“Oh, yes. Definitely, yes,” Susan murmured.
“Yes what?”
“It’s perfect.”
Maggie smoothed down the bodice, appreciative of the modest neckline. The fabric nipped her waist then flared. A layer of sheer material covered the skirt as well as the cap sleeves, adding to the gossamer illusion.
Could she, Maggie Jones, pull off wearing a dress like this?
“Now wait right here, I’ll pin the hem and—” Susan stopped midsentence. “I nearly forgot. I need to call and make a hair appointment for you at the Emporium before they’re booked solid.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”
Susan simply shook her head and walked away.
“I said, there’s nothing wrong with my hair,” Maggie called after her cousin. She pushed several loose strands back into her ponytail. Wandering around the shop, she stopped to examine a colorful array of silk blouses lined up on hangers like ice-cream parlor flavors in rainbow shades of raspberry, pistachio, lemon and peach.
Turning, Maggie caught her reflection in the mirror. At least she thought it was her. Hmm, it was like her head was on someone else’s body. There was something special about the dress. Susan was right.
“Whoa.”
“Excuse me?” Maggie whirled around, bumping into a display of scarves. Lace and satin slithered to the floor. Her gaze moved from the puddle of color on the floor to Jake MacLaughlin, who stared at her, his mouth agape.
He reached down to scoop up the material at the same moment she did. Their heads knocked.
“Sorry. You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” She rubbed her forehead. “Are you supposed to be in here?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Isn’t it bad luck or something?”
“I think that’s brides,” Jake said, handing her back the pile of scarves.
“Oh.” Maggie shoved the tangled material onto the glass display counter. “Did you need Susan?”
“Nope.” He eyed her for a moment longer.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” she asked, her voice rising an octave.
His mouth curled into a slow grin. “I’m trying to decide.”
“Stop that,” she demanded, flustered.
“Stop what?”
“That smile.”
“What’s not to smile about? That’s a nice dress.”
“Right.” Maggie inhaled. “Look, you’re a very handsome man, and I am sure you are accustomed to women drooling over you—”
“Drooling?” He choked on a laugh.
“Yes.”
“Wait, back up there a minute. You think I’m handsome?’
“Don’t mess with me, Chief MacLaughlin.” She headed toward the dressing room.
“Jake, it’s Jake,” he called after her. “And trust me, I am not messing with you.”
Maggie stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “I guess you haven’t noticed that half the women in this town are in love with you.”
“Big on sweeping generalities, aren’t you?”
“I’m not blind.” She opened the louver door. “Stay right there.”
Jake cleared his throat. “What is it about you? We always seem to get off on the wrong foot. You notice that?”
Maggie closed and locked the door before she quickly pulled off the dress, and tugged her jeans and shirt back on.
“Hello?” Jake called.
“I heard you.” She marched out of the dressing room, her sneakers dangling from her fingers.
He tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and leaned back on the heels of his boots, watching her. “I’m here because I was across the street when I saw you go into your cousin’s shop. I need your phone number.”
She shoved her feet into her sneakers and glanced across the street to the neatly painted gray building with gleaming windows. The perimeter of the property was surrounded by trimmed bushes and several black benches. A black awning announced it was a hardware store.
Maggie eyed Jake with renewed interest. “Nice store,” she said as she leaned over to tie the laces on her high-tops.
“It is.”
“I don’t remember that building being there when I was a kid.”
“Brand-new. Opened up about five years ago.”
Silence stretched as Maggie again stared across the street.
“Your number?”
“Hmm?” She turned back to Jake. “I gave you my number the other day.”
“That was for the report. I didn’t actually save it. That would be a tad bit unethical.” He handed her his cell.
“You need my number, why?”
“In case, oh, say I’m running late on Saturday due to a fire. Or I get lost.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes and took the phone. She punched in her digits, casually, as though she gave men her number all the time.
“Well, well. Look who’s here,” Susan purred. “Can I interest you in anything, Chief MacLaughlin?”
“I’m good for now.” He winked at Maggie as she handed him back his cell, then he did a neat about-face and headed out of the shop.
“What was that all about?” Susan asked.
“He needed my number for the...the Founder’s Day thing.”
Susan looked at his retreating form and then back to Maggie. “You have an appointment at eleven Thursday for your hair. I thought we could do lunch while we’re out.”
“Susan, I can’t just leave the shop in the middle of the day. On a Thursday, no less. One of the busiest days of the week.”
“Of course you can. Mother told me Beck Hollander is back from vacation. He’ll cover for you.”
“Beck who?”
“Didn’t Daddy tell you? Beck works part-time a few days a week. He’s going to be a senior this year. Kind of a strange nerdy kid, but real smart, too. He’s been helping Daddy for a few years now.”
“I’m sure Beck and I will get along just fine. I speak fluent nerd.” Maggie’s gaze drifted across the street to the hardware store. “Um, Susan, I have to run.”
“What about the dress? It needs to be hemmed.”
“Can we do that later? Maybe tonight?”
“Sure. I’m taking mom to Four Forks in about thirty minutes.”
“Four Forks?”
“Little town, north of us. They have a yarn shop she likes to visit.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll call you when we get back. We’ll need to talk makeup and accessories, too.”
“Makeup and accessories.” She sighed, resigned. “Okay. Whatever.”
Leaving the shop Maggie hurried crossed the street and pulled open the expansive glass doors of the hardware store. A heady excitement raced through her. She breathed deeply, and forced herself to relax. Now she was in her element. No need to rush the pleasure. Her steps slowed as she moved with purpose down the aisles, getting the lay of the land.
Birdseed and birdhouses. Nuts and bolts. Shiny tools. Pails and buckets. Even pots and pans. Oh, wow, there was even stick candy. Sassafras, horehound and peppermint.
Oh, this was a real, old-fashioned hardware store.
Her pulse quickened.
What clothing stores did for women like Susan, and bookstores did for her parents, well, that was what hardware stores did for Maggie. It was like coming home.
“Can I help you?”
Jake? Maggie’s head jerked as she turned around. “What are you doing here?”
He glanced around curiously. “Why shouldn’t I be here?”
Over an intercom a voice boomed. “Chief, you have a phone call.”
“You work here?” She arched a brow.
“I own the place, Maggie.”
A small gasp slipped from her lips. “You own a hardware store?” She barely squeaked out the words.
“Yeah, why?” He glanced back at her with a confused frown. “Hang on a second, I’ll be right back.”
“He owns a hardware store,” she murmured. How could she resist such a man? Handsome, charming, bigger than life and he owned a hardware store.
Certainly the Lord never promised life would be fair, but this was more than even she could handle at the moment.
She strode to the exit.
“Maggie, wait.”
His words only increased her pace, as though a scary dog nipped at her heels.
“Maggie.”
“I. Have. To. Go.” Hands on the glass, she shoved open the door and ran, passing nearly a half a dozen small shops, until she was well around the corner and nearly to her uncle’s place.
Dear Lord. Help me. I’ve only just gotten the pieces of my life glued back together.
She was naive and inexperienced and if she wasn’t careful she’d give her heart away to a man who’d carelessly break it into little pieces...again.
* * *
“You’re fast, I’ll give you that,” Jake said as he turned the corner a full minute after Maggie.
Thankfully she had stopped. Her brown eyes were wide as she stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you own a hardware store?”
He rubbed his jaw as he considered the question. “Ah. You got me there.”
Strands of silky brown hair had escaped her ponytail in places, the only indication that she had raced an entire block without breaking a sweat.
“What happened back there?” he asked.
She was silent, her eyes on the sidewalk.
Jake shook his head. “You know, maybe you and I should start over.” He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Jake MacLaughlin. Part-time volunteer fireman, full-time owner and manager of Paradise Hardware.”
She raised her head and eyed his hand for a moment before finally placing her small one in his. It fit nicely.
Pink tinged her cheeks.
“And you are?” he nudged her along.
“Margaret Jones, assistant professor of physical science.” She sighed. “Currently unemployed.”
He nodded and reluctantly released her soft fingers. “Nice to meet you.”
She gave him a short nod, and a grudging smile.
“A professor? Physical science? Really?”
“Yes.” Her eyes brightened. “My area of specialty is agronomy.”
“You don’t look like an agronomist.”
Maggie frowned, confusion in the depths of her dark eyes.
Jake couldn’t resist a grin.
“You’re kidding,” she said flatly.
“I am.”
“Do you know what agronomy is?” Maggie asked.
“No, but I have complete faith you’re going to tell me when we have our date.”
“It’s not a date.”
“Right. Right. Civic duty.”
“I better go...” She turned.
“First-time customers get a ten-percent discount. There’s a coupon on our new webpage.”
Turning back toward him, her face lit up, and a smile curved her generous mouth.
Jake had a sudden notion that he’d like to keep Maggie Jones smiling all the time.
“Really?” she murmured.
“Yeah. We really have a webpage.”
“I meant the coupon.”
“That, too. We’re having a big sale on fire extinguishers right now.”
The smile slipped from her face. “Very funny.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” Jake looked around. They were nearly to her shop and right around the corner from Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery. “Why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“No. But thank you. I really do have to get back to the shop. There’s a Beck Hollander coming by today.”
“Beck? Good kid. A little strange, but a good kid.”
“That’s what Susan said.”
“Have you decided if you’re staying in Paradise yet?” Jake asked.
“Oh, that depends.”
“On what?” he asked, once again prodding her for an answer.
“If I have a reason to stay.”
He nodded and tucked her words away. “So I guess I’ll see you on Saturday?”
“Yes. Saturday,” she murmured.
Jake turned slightly and then paused and faced her again. “Are we—” he raised a palm “—okay?”
“Yes. It’s all good,” she said with a shaky laugh.
“You’re sure? I have this unsettling feeling that I did something wrong. But I can’t quite figure out what.”
“No. It’s me, not you.”
He scratched his head. “I’ll guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Jake stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly back to the store, silently counting sidewalk cracks and pondering his conversation with Maggie. Was that a panic attack she’d had in the hardware store? Maybe she had medical issues? The woman was a mystery, that much was clear.
That didn’t explain why his good intentions and resolutions disappeared when he was around her. It seemed the more he resisted, the closer he danced to the flame.
He stopped outside the Paradise Floral Shop and stared at a sign in the window.
Don’t forget to order your date a corsage for the Founder’s Day supper!
Despite what Maggie thought, it was a date. He’d call in an order later.
Right now he had to get back to the store.
He had just pulled open the glass door to the hardware store when the fire horns began to sound. Simultaneously his cell phone rang, the tune indicating a text.
Jake raced to the parking lot while reading the message.
10-24. Auto fire.
The address was Bob Jones’s fix-it shop.
He swallowed hard and headed to the fire station while silently praying. Trouble seemed to court Maggie Jones.
Chapter Four (#ulink_078bf48d-42ef-5d28-bfa4-a9b477d50248)
Maggie was wedged under the sink in the back room when the shop’s front door opened. Now what? From the street the echoing rumble of the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department’s pump engine could be heard as it finally departed.
She blew strands of hair out of her eyes and gave the pipe wrench a quick turn. Only early afternoon, yet she was more than ready to call it a day before anything else happened. The steely look Jake had given her as he assessed the smoldering remains of her uncle’s ancient and battered Ford engine was enough to keep her praying for the Lord’s protection and assistance to stay out of trouble and out of Jake’s way, at least until the Founder’s Day supper.
Apparently Jake was so fit to be tied he sent another fireman, Duffy McKenna, to fill out the report. Fine with her. Redheaded Duffy had a face full of freckles. He was sweet and he kept her laughing. Of course he wasn’t as...well, as three-dimensional as Jake. In fact all the firemen were nice, and understanding. The only one glaring at her was the chief. It seemed that the word accident wasn’t in his vocabulary.
“Hello?” a voice called out.
“Coming,” Maggie returned.
She wiggled out from beneath the drain pipes and stood up, straightening her clothes as she approached the front counter. A dark-haired teenager stood straight and tall. His bright blue eyes, magnified behind black-framed glasses, darted around the room as he wiped his hands on his jeans. The kid seemed to be all arms and legs. An earbud was hidden beneath his black curls, and the other end of the cord dangled around his neck. A wrinkled, once-white T-shirt hung on his lank body. He adjusted his glasses and stared at a point beyond her right shoulder.
“Beck Hollander, I presume.”
He nodded.
“Maggie Jones.”
Silence.
“You help part-time in the shop.”
Another nod.
“My uncle has gone fishing for a few weeks. Perhaps you’d prefer to wait until he returns.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to be a bad influence. I am currently persona non grata with the PVFD.”
Beck cleared his throat. “I heard.”
“Heard? Heard what?” She grasped her ponytail and gave it a sharp pull, yanking the loose hair back into order.
“You burned a truck.”
Maggie grimaced and wrapped her hands around the neck of the blender she had been working on prior to the fire drama earlier in the day. She concentrated on tightly winding the cord around the base.
“That’s not exactly what happened, though I suppose the details don’t matter, do they? Let’s talk about you.”
He said nothing.
Undeterred, Maggie pasted a smile on her face. “Senior?”
Short nod.
This was worse than the blind dates her parents had set her up with. If she’d learned anything from those disastrous experiences with scholarly types who were inflicted upon her with her parents’ high hopes of a future academic progeny, it was that open-ended questions were the ticket.
“What are your plans after high school?”
“College.”
She sighed, and continued, refusing to be defeated. “Major?”
“Engineering.”
Ah. Gotcha, you little brainiac.
“Biomedical, civil, environmental, electrical, computer, mechanical, energy?”
“Electrical and computer engineering.”
“Great. I double majored in agronomics and earth science at UC Davis. Recently finished my doctorate.”
His jaw slackened. “You don’t look like...”
“What? A smart girl?”
Beck’s face turned solid red from his neck to the tips of his ears, which peeked out from his mop of hair. “I, uh...sorry.”
Maggie laughed. “Please, I’m flattered. Most people don’t think I look like a professor, either.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re a professor?”
“Was. Physical science. I’m currently between jobs. And to be clear, I’m an assistant professor.”
“Why teaching, when you could...” He gestured with a wave of a skinny arm.
“Oh, you know. Sometimes it’s easier to go along to get along. Ironically, as it turns out, I like teaching.” Maggie lowered her voice. “But I’ll tell you a secret, someday I’m going to open my own nursery. I’m thinking about my own line of honey. Organic lavender, too.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how or when, but someday.”
A smile spread on the kid’s narrow face.
Yes!The barrier had been breached.
“So, anything in particular I need to know about your hours, Beck?”
He shook his head.
“What do you do around here?” Maggie asked.
“I handle most of the computerized repairs. Before your uncle left I rewired the shop’s security alarm system. Now it can be set remotely.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Bob, uh, Mr. Jones isn’t into digital stuff.”
“So, do you get a lot of computerized repairs in Paradise?”
“No, but we get a lot of people stopping by for computer help.”
“Uncle Bob dispenses computer advice?”
“No. I do. Mr. Jones doesn’t even have a computer.”
Maggie laughed. “Now that sounds like Uncle Bob. So, do you charge for this advice?”
“No. It’s free. I’m like a tutor.”
“A tutor? I like that. Maybe we can share the workload.”
Beck grinned. “Sure. Yeah.”
“How many hours are you working in the summer?”
“Three or four hours a day. Four days a week. I’m taking a few online classes, as well.”
“All right. Works for me. I’m closing up shop here shortly.” She met his gaze. “I’ve got an appointment Thursday around eleven. Think you could come in then and cover for me for a few hours?”
“Sure.”
“And we can talk some more, maybe work on your schedule?” she added.
His eyes lit up. “Yeah. That’d be sweet.”
“Sweet it is.” Maggie stuck out her hand. “So I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” He shook her hand. “Thanks, Ms. Jones.”
“Maggie. Just Maggie.”
“Um, Maggie?”
“Yes?”
He adjusted his glasses with his thumb and forefinger. “Chief MacLaughlin was wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
“The 2003 Ford F-150 was recalled for suspected engine fires caused by a cruise control switch.”
Maggie’s mouth opened as his words sank in. “What?”
“Apparently, the problem is that the brake fluid leaks through the cruise control’s deactivation switch into the system’s electrical components, leading to corrosion and producing a buildup of electrical current that causes overheating and, in your case, fire.”
“You know this, how?”
He shrugged. “I read a lot.
“You read a lot,” she murmured. Suddenly his words clicked. “So it’s not my fault?”
“Nope.”
This time she smiled.
“I, uh, just thought you should know.”
Vindication!
Her elation was short-lived as she realized she was the designated adult in this conversation.
“Thank you, Beck. I appreciate that. More than you know.” She took a deep breath. “However, let’s not be too hard on the chief. He’s doing his job, and keeping everyone in Paradise safe certainly can’t be easy.”
Beck nodded yet again, and then looked at his sneakers.
“Was there something else?” she asked.
“Yeah. There’s an opening at the high school.”
“An opening? For what?”
He barely met her gaze. “Science teacher. I heard my dad talking about it last night. Mrs. Janson is going on maternity leave early. I thought maybe you might be interested.”
Maggie’s heart soared. She swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. My dad is the principal.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll tell him to call you,” he added with a small smile, before he loped out of the shop.
“Yes. Please. Do that.” Maggie was still staring after him, minutes later.
A job in Paradise?
Why not? Her credentials were impeccable. Of course, she’d have to be extremely careful from now on. No more accidental fires. Low profile. That was the ticket.
Mustn’t get your hopes up, Margaret. The voice of her mother—the eternal pessimist—whispered in Maggie’s ear.
“You’re wrong, Mom. This job is mine. The Lord brought me to Paradise and He’s not going to leave me sitting outside the Promised Land.”
Maggie smiled and lifted her hand in a high five.
“Thank You, Lord.”
* * *
Jake gripped the keys to his pickup tightly in his hand as he stood on the bottom step of Maggie’s house. Bright red ceramic pots were arranged on her small porch with small painted signs identifying the plants—lemon thyme, cinnamon basil, chocolate mint and pineapple sage. He shook his head. He’d never even heard of half the stuff she’d planted.
Overhead the sky rumbled a warning that a storm was imminent. Undeterred, Jake walked up the steps and pushed the doorbell.
The teal-blue door of the cottage swung open and Maggie stared at him from behind the screen.
“I have it on good authority that it wasn’t my fault,” she announced.
“Hi, to you, too, Maggie.”
Her cheeks flushed and she crossed her arms.
Jake glanced past her into the sparsely decorated living room. “Nice house. I presume your smoke detectors are in place and the batteries are up-to-date.”
“Presume away.”
“Maggie.”
“They’re fine. I checked everything when I moved in.”
“Thank you.”
“To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Chief MacLaughlin? Or do you routinely make smoke-detector house calls?”
“I’m following up to make sure you’re okay.” He frowned. “And I thought we were on a first-name basis?”
“So this is an official visit from the chief of the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department regarding the incident at 1233 Central Avenue?” She began to shut the door. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Maggie.”
The door stopped moving. “I told you, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. Beck said so.”
“Beck said so?”
“Something about a manufacturer recall due to known fire-related problems.”
“Great, but I’m not blaming you.”
“No?”
“No. May I come in?”
She averted her gaze. “That doesn’t seem like a wise move to me.”
Jake paused, realization dawning. “Are you afraid of me, Maggie?”
She opened her mouth and closed it. Then the screen door opened and Maggie stepped out onto the small porch as though eager to prove him wrong.
“I know you’re really here to read me the riot act and I’d rather you did it out here, if you don’t mind.”
He met her gaze head-on. She didn’t even blink as he towered over her and her ponytail. The woman was gutsy. He’d give her that.
Jake dialed down his menacing facade. It wasn’t working anyhow.
“This is serious, Maggie.”
She rubbed her arms against a sudden breeze that kicked up, bringing with it the scent of the pine trees surrounding the house.
“What exactly is serious?” she asked.
“When you smelled smoke you should have gotten out of the vehicle and called 9-1-1.”
“I did call 9-1-1.”
“After you raised the hood.”
Her eyes rounded. “Who told you?”
“Who didn’t?”
Maggie shook her head in disgust. “It was only an electrical fire.”
“One out of seven fires involves vehicles. One out of ten fire deaths results from vehicle fires,” Jake said.
“You memorized those stats?”
“It’s my job.”
“Fair enough, but I’m telling you it was barely a fire. Barely. Tiny flame. Very tiny.
“And yet you needed a fire extinguisher.”
“Well. Um, yes.”
“Where’d you get the fire extinguisher?”
“Your father gave it to me.”
“My father?”
“Tall man. Silver hair.”
“I know who my father is. In fact his house is right down the street a couple of blocks.”
“Well, your father dropped the extinguisher off after the, um, first, um, incident. Said it was a ‘welcome to Paradise’ gift, since I’d extinguished the other one. Apparently all the MacLaughlins have a dark sense of humor.”
Jake ignored the comment and made a mental note to talk to his father about meddling in his life. Again. “So are we clear?” he asked. “Next time call 9-1-1 immediately and move away from the vehicle.”
She gave a solemn nod. “I can assure you that there won’t be a next time.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope you’re right.” He cleared his throat, grasping for a reason to keep chatting, knowing he was being off-the-wall ridiculous. He had things to do at home. Right? Feed the dog. Throw in a load of laundry. Yet, here he stood.
“Sorry about your truck,” he said. “It’s a complete write-off. You’ll need to call the insurance company.”
“It’s not mine. It’s Uncle Bob’s shop truck.” Maggie sighed. “Fortunately, I have a perfectly good bicycle that my aunt and uncle have kept for me since my last visit.”
“Your last visit? When was that?”
“I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen?” He stared at her. “You don’t own a vehicle?”
“I left my car in Denver. It belongs to my parents. So you can see that the chances of another engine fire are pretty much nil.”
“How did you get to Paradise?” he asked.
“Cab.”
“You’re joking, right? A cab all the way from Denver? That’s like three and a half hours.”
She stood straight and balled her small hands into fists. “Look, for your information, I was in a bit of rush when I left and there aren’t any buses to Paradise.”
“Whoa there. No need to get all excited.”
Maggie released a breath and continued to stare him down.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” he murmured.
Her cheeks flushed. She chewed on a ragged thumbnail and glanced around. “No. Of course not.”
“You’re sure? You can tell me, you know.”
Maggie began to laugh. “What are you saying? You won’t think any less of me if I confide that I’m a convict on the lam? Gee, thanks. Chief.”
Somehow her laugh didn’t quite ring true.
“I guess you’re entitled to your secrets,” he returned.
“I don’t have any secrets. My life is an open, albeit very short, book. A novella at best.”
Overhead thunder clapped.
Maggie jumped. She glanced at the sky and then looked toward the gutters on the cottage. “Too bad. I was hoping to get a permit to install a rainwater-harvesting system before it rained.”
“Oh, there will be plenty more rain days in the valley.” He paused. “A permit, huh? That sounds like someone who’s thinking about sticking around.”
She pondered his words for a moment. “Maybe.”
Suddenly the sky opened up, releasing giant drops that quickly turned into a deluge.
“I better get going.” Jake tossed his keys into the air.
Maggie touched his arm, and he glanced down, surprised to see her delicate hand on his sleeve.
“This is a downpour, Jake. Can’t you wait until it eases up?”
His brows rose at the concern on her face. “Are you worried about me?”
“I’m speaking as a soil professional. It’s very dangerous to drive through a downpour in a region indigenous to flash flooding and mudslides.” Her soft brown eyes pleaded with him. “And I know from experience that you don’t do dangerous, Chief MacLaughlin,” she murmured.
Jack met her unwavering gaze. She was right on both counts. Standing this close to Maggie, surrounded by an intimate curtain of rain, was dangerous all right. Much too dangerous.
He lifted the collar of his shirt. “I’ll be fine,” he said as he stepped from the porch and straight into the cooling rain.
* * *
“Chuck, I’m telling you the woman is hiding something.”
The black-and-white collie-shepherd mix opted not to answer, nor did he look up from the metal bowl, where his nose was buried in his dinner.
“We’re going to have to ask Sheriff Lawson to run a background check on Maggie Jones. And while Sam is checking, we’ll do a little online search of our own, as well.”
Chuck finally looked up, his black eyes round and questioning.
“Oh, don’t give me that. It’s just a simple precaution. She took a cab from Denver, Chuck. Who does that?”
Rain continued to tap at the window as Jake stirred the simmering Buffalo chili and then replaced the lid on the pot and turned down the flame. He grabbed a sponge and wiped down the stainless steel stove top before sliding cornbread muffins into the oven and setting the timer.
Almost time to eat. It would have been nice to share dinner with someone besides his dog.
For a moment his mind flitted back to Maggie. He quickly dismissed the concerned expression he’d seen on her face as he left her house.
Long ago, he’d resolved himself to being alone. Once a month his solitary life was interrupted when he met his men at the firehouse for training and they put together a meal. Occasionally his father dropped in unannounced, too. Oddly enough, Mack hadn’t done much of that in the last few months.
A loud rhythmic series of raps on the back door signaled tonight was one of those visits from his father. Jake smiled as Chuck raced to the door and shoved his whiskers into the screen, whining.
“Jacob,” his father called as he pushed the door open. “Quite a storm out there. Hope it stops before the weekend.” He shrugged off his yellow rain slicker and ran a hand through his damp hair.
“Hey, Dad. You smelled the chili all the way from your place, huh?”
“Are you cooking?” Mack leaned down and gave Chuck a rubdown. “Yeah, boy, I’ve missed you, too.”
“There’s chili in the pot.”
Mack stood and looked around. “Oh, I guess you are. But that’s not why I’m here. I want to run something by you.”
“Sure. Have a seat and maybe Chuck and I can help you with your problem.”

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