Love Inspired June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: The Cowboy's Homecoming\The Amish Widow's Secret\Safe in the Fireman's Arms (39 page)
Authors: Carolyne Aarsen
Tags: #Love Inspired
He dialed her number and waggled his cell phone for her to see.
She looked startled when her phone rang, groped for it, then shook her head, dismayed.
She can't find the phone.
He tried again, hoping the ring tone would help her locate the cell. This time she zeroed in on the noise, stretched, and when she sat back up, the look of triumph on her face said she had the phone.
Yes.
He dialed again and she answered quickly. “I'm stuck.”
The nonstressed tone of her voice said he wasn't dealing with a typical accident victim, and the look she sent his way, an almost comical look of pleading, said she'd wait for him to rescue her without hysterics.
He liked that.
“Make sure your locks are disengaged from inside.”
“I did that. Everything's unlocked. Or should be.”
“Try again. Electrical systems can get whacked in an accident.”
He saw her hit the button to disengage the locks. She frowned at the door and hit the button again. “It's not responding.”
She glared at the console, firmed her chin and stabbed the unlock button with vengeance.
Click.
Tanner caught her smile of success. He spoke into the phone but kept his gaze trained on hers to make sure she understood. “I'm going to climb on top and pull the door. Gravity and the wind will fight me. Are you trapped or can you move to climb out?”
“I can move.”
“Okay, when I pull the door, you push it up as hard as you can from inside. Okay?”
“Roger that.”
“We don't use radio talk on phones, Julia,” he teased, wanting to match her mood. “Every newbie knows that.”
“I'm taking it under advisement,” she told him. “Umm, I think you should hang up the phone now and rescue me.”
“Agreed.”
He climbed up the front of the car, moved into position, then reached down and gripped the door handle. He squeezed hard and pulled.
The wind fought him.
The almost upright angle and weight of the door made his task difficult under good conditions. In frigid temps, it was almost impossible.
He wanted her out of the car and in a warm, safe place, fast.
The door moved up.
He clenched tight, bracing himself, because if he lost his grip while Julia climbed out and the door slammed back down, he could seriously hurt her.
He heard a voice, and then he saw gloved fingers, grasping the back side of the driver's door frame. First one hand, then two.
A wind gust buffeted him, jerking him to the left. His foot slipped on a slick spot, but he held tight.
Come on, Julia, grab hold. Climb out. Hang on.
An arm followed. And then the second arm, grabbing hold of the back door handle, pulling hard.
Her head appeared, then disappeared for long, slow seconds.
That meant something wasn't right. A caught leg, a foot turned wrong.
She disappeared back into the car while Tanner struggled to hold the door open.
The hands appeared again. Then the head, her blond hair whipping in the wind.
This time she made it through the opening, onto the car and slid down into the snow, free.
He let the door down easy, not wanting to rock the car over, then slid down into the snow next to her.
“You're hurt.” He stood quickly, hauled her up and pulled her toward his car.
She tried to say something, but the storm stole her words. He tucked her into the front seat of the warm cruiser, circled around and climbed in next to her as the rescue vehicle came into view. He paused, letting heat seep into both of them. “Let me see your face.”
“Scratched, banged and bruised, but otherwise unscathed,” she assured him, but he reached over, grasped her chin gently and turned her face his way.
* * *
He's got gorgeous gray eyes.
The kind a girl could get lost in if she had a mind to. Fortunately, I have no such desire.
Hat-matted, snow-flecked hair. Was it dark? Light? She couldn't tell because the dampness made it look dark in the uneven light of the police cruiser.
Square-jawed. Fierce, almost taut features, but as he examined her for damage, the look in his eyes said this warrior had a soft side he hid well.
And that was a relief, because she'd come close to giving him a good, swift kick back in the future pregnancy center.
His broad hands were chilled but gentle. His gaze probed her eyes, and for just a moment she wondered what it would be like to have Trooper Tanner locking eyes with her when he
wasn't
searching for signs of concussion.
“Headache?”
She shook her head, then shrugged. “Well. A little.”
“This hurt much?” He touched the side of her face with the pad of his thumb.
“Ouch. Bruised, I expect.”
“Oh, yeah. You're gonna have a nice shiner with that one.” His smile offered sympathy tinged with sarcasm, a kind of fun mix. “And this?” He sent a light touch over her left eyebrow and seemed happy when she didn't react.
“Should I ask how I look?” She made a face, and he responded with an overdone cringe as if afraid to tell her. She dropped her head back and sighed. “That bad?”
“Two bangs and a bruise. Not too bad. But wrecking two cars in one day? I'm glad I don't have to pay your insurance, Julia.”
“The other one wasn't my fault,” she protested. “Parked, I tell you. No way can you pin that one on me.”
“And this one?” Tanner slid his gaze to the upended car in front of them.
She sighed out loud. “That one's all me.” She started to make a face, but wrinkling the muscles made her temple bruise hurt more so she stopped. “And Zach's going to have a field day because he warned me to handle the car differently.”
“Yup.”
“Do you have siblings, Tanner?”
“One sister. Neda. She lives in Erie. Just far enough away that she can't remind me of the dumb things I do too often.”
As the ambulance crew reached the car, Julia grimaced. “My advice? Keep it that way.” She shot a look of chagrin toward Zach's approaching car and winked at Tanner. “Because I'm never going to live this down.”
Copyright © 2015 by Ruth M. Blodgett
ISBN-13: 9781460383117
The Amish Widow's Secret
Copyright © 2015 by Cheryl Williford
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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 lifeâ¦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 âMaggie 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.
Books by Tina Radcliffe
Love Inspired
The Rancher's Reunion
Oklahoma Reunion
Mending the Doctor's Heart
Stranded with the Rancher
Safe in the Fireman's Arms
SAFE IN THE
FIREMAN'S ARMS
By Tina Radcliffe
Therefore there is now no condemnation
for those who are in Christ Jesus.
âRomans
8:1
Acknowledgments
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.
Chapter One
M
aggie 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 bootsâsize thirteenâto 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 meanâ” 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.