Love Inspired June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: The Cowboy's Homecoming\The Amish Widow's Secret\Safe in the Fireman's Arms (42 page)

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

M
aggie 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.”