Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I t was nearly 6 a.m. before Derek Sumner and the rest of the fire crew were done with Chloe English’s house. Derek went to the fire chief’s rig where Ashley was sleeping in the front seat. She was still snuggled in Chloe’s hoodie, but had also been swaddled with one of Hank’s spare shirts, which he kept in the back of the SUV. Everyone had taken turns checking on the animal.

“Sumner!” Hank came toward Derek. “Can I drop you and the cat at home? The other guys have got the engine.” The extra tender truck had left hours ago.

“Actually, do you mind dropping me at the Archers’?” It was half the distance to Derek’s loft in town, and Emily Archer would be happy to take care of Ashley while Derek got cleaned up and caught a few hours of sleep.

“Not at all.”

Ten minutes later, Hank drove up the quarter-mile drive leading to the Archer family home, a huge arts-and-crafts–style mansion. The drive was lit every hundred feet, and because it was Christmastime, the bulbs had been changed to alternating green and red. Though it was still dark, the lights on the house had shut off hours ago. If they’d been on, the glow would’ve lit up the countryside—it wasn’t quite a Griswold Christmas, but it was close. Robert and Emily Archer loved the holidays. In fact, Derek had never known anyone who loved them more, and it was thanks to them that this time of year had finally begun to mean more than just painful memories.

He shook the past away as Hank pulled into the circular drive and dropped him at the base of the stone steps. Derek picked up Ashley, thanked Hank for the lift, and dragged his tired body up to the front terrace and massive entry.

He unlocked the door and let himself in.

Robert Archer rushed out of his office, which was just off the entry hall, coffee cup in hand. He’d always been an early riser. Tall and slim with thick gray hair that still boasted a few strands of dark brown here and there, he was fit and robust for sixty, which wasn’t surprising given his passion for cycling. “Derek? What brings you here at this hour?” His gaze fell on Derek’s outfit and he said, “There was an actual fire?”

Derek was one of sixteen volunteer firefighters in Ribbon Ridge, and in his five years of service they’d never had more than a burning pan on a stove or a backyard fire that had started to get out of line. “Yeah, a small house out on McMurtry Lane.”

“Not Mrs. Boatwright’s?” Robert knew everyone in Ribbon Ridge, and he certainly knew every bit of real estate. He owned probably 60 percent of it, and his family had founded the town over a hundred fifty years ago.

Derek shook his head. “The other one.”

Rob wrinkled his nose beneath his reading glasses. “Vic Enders owns that place.” Vic owned a bunch of properties in Ribbon Ridge and neighboring towns. He was notorious for being a slumlord, and Rob took pleasure in stealing properties out from under him before Vic could run them into the ground and take advantage of the tenants.

Derek was sorry Chloe had rented from the deadbeat. He hoped she didn’t have trouble dealing with him, particularly since the evidence they’d found laid the blame for the fire cleanly at his feet. “Faulty wiring in the walls. Looks like he tried to upgrade the electric to meet code, but cut some corners.”

Rob shook his head. “What a shame. I feel sorry for his tenants. They okay?”

“I think so. It’s just a single woman. New to town.”

Rob inclined his head toward the kitten in Derek’s arms. “Is that her cat?”

Derek stroked the animal’s soft fur. “Sort of. At least she is now.”

“Who’s here?” Emily Archer, the woman Derek considered his second mother and loved every bit as much as his first, came into the entryway. “Derek! Why are you standing there in your gear? You look exhausted. And what is that, a kitten?” She bustled toward him, her robe drawn tight over her petite frame. Before Derek could protest, she’d swept Ashley from his arms, not that he’d expected anything less. Emily’s heart was a force of nature.

“Yes, we think it might have something wrong with its eyes. I wanted to take her in to see Sam this morning.”

“I’ll take care of it, dear.” Emily petted the cat fondly as she looked up at Derek. “You look dead on your feet. Why don’t you go on home?”

“Actually, I had Hank drop me off here so I could grab a shower and a nap before work.”

“Work?” Rob shook his head. “Why would you go in to work today? Forget that.”

Derek was the CFO of Archer Enterprises, so if the CEO told him he shouldn’t go to work, who was he to argue? “Okay. But I’m filling in this afternoon at the pub. Mike’s shorthanded.”

“That’s so nice of you.” Emily smiled warmly at him. “You have such a generous heart. But go on, take your shower. I’ve got your cat.”

“Not my cat, Chloe’s.”

Emily glanced at Rob as if he might have the answer. “Who’s Chloe?”

Rob shrugged. “I’m guessing she’s the tenant of the house that burned down tonight.”

“Oh!” Emily’s mouth dropped in horror. “That’s awful! I should’ve realized there was an actual fire. You wouldn’t be doing a training exercise in the middle of the night. How did you come to have Chloe’s cat?”

“She’s staying at the Blackberry Inn tonight. She’s new to town, no family, no friends.” He ached for her loss. “I offered to take care of Ashley.”

Rob coughed to cover up a laugh. “The cat’s name is Ash ley?”

Derek smiled. It was hard to say for sure, but he thought Chloe was in possession of a great sense of humor. Why else would she name the kitten Ashley? “It seemed appropriate, given that I found it outside of a burning house. And she’s gray.”

“So she is,” Emily murmured. “Well, I’ll take care of Miss Ashley.”

Derek had thought of something on the way over and now seemed like as good a time as any to ask. “Speaking of Chloe, do you think she could stay in the apartment over the garage until she finds a new place?”

“Of course!” Emily said quickly, then sucked in a breath. “But we have guests coming on the fifteenth.”

Derek’s brain froze for a moment. December 15 was the worst day on the calendar.

“Unfortunately, she’ll need to be out by then,” Emily continued, sounding regretful. “Unless she wants to stay in one of the kids’ rooms.” The Archers’ house contained nine bedrooms—one for Rob and Emily and every one of their children, including Derek. “I’m sure at least one of them will be available. It’s not like they all come home for the holidays, except for the Christmas party, and that’s on Saturday.” The company Christmas party was the one time each year when all of their seven kids—plus Derek—would be in the same place, a fact that never failed to disappoint Emily.

“There’s another option,” Rob said slowly, fixing his gray gaze on Derek. “Have you decided whether you’re going to sell your house?”

God, the fifteenth and his house in the same conversation? They were both things he tried to ignore. And unfortunately couldn’t. He hadn’t lived in the house since his mother had died ten years ago, but he also hadn’t been able to sell it and sever the last tie to his youth. Rob’s property management company rented it out, and for the most part Derek went out of his way to avoid it. However, it was currently vacant, and Rob had asked him last week if he was finally ready to sell.

“Not yet.” But Derek knew the answer was no. He was just too tired to get into it right now.

“So rent it to this Chloe,” Emily suggested, nuzzling the kitten to her chest. “The last renters had their own furniture, but we can refurnish it from the management company’s storage unit.”

Rob took a sip of coffee. “That’s what I was thinking. I believe there are painters and carpet cleaners scheduled this week, so we’ll have to see when it’s available.”

Derek supposed he could rent it to her, but for some reason, he was hesitant. Why? Because he was sort of hoping he would see her socially, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that in his old house. So he was going to deprive her of a perfectly good place to live because he wanted to ask her out?

Selfish much?

“I’ll talk to her about it.” He was already hoping she would decline.

“Excellent.” Emily brought the kitten up and looked into its face. “You sweet little thing. Let’s get you some food. I think I have some chicken liver in the fridge. And maybe some milk?” She looked past Ashley to Derek. “Can I get you anything, dear?”

“No, thank you. I’m just going to get cleaned up.” He nodded at Rob and walked past Emily, pausing to kiss her on the cheek and give Ashley a quick pat.

“Leave your clothes outside your room and I’ll throw them in the washer while you sleep,” Emily called after him, making him smile with her welcome mothering.

Derek moved from the entry into the oval-shaped hall and inhaled the pine scent of the twenty-foot-tall Christmas tree peeking from the corner of the great room on the opposite side of the hall. A not-quite-life-size sleigh sat in the center of the oval. It was currently empty, but at the party this weekend, attendees would fill it with gifts for underprivileged kids. It was, like so many things in the Archers’ lives, tradition, and Derek loved it.

As he made his way down the north wing and then downstairs, he marveled at how much this house felt like home. Unlike the house he’d lived in with his mother for eight years. But that time in his life held too many unpleasant memories. They’d never gotten over his father’s death, and then she’d gotten sick. Why the hell wasn’t he selling the place?

Because it was all he had of her. Of the time when he’d had a family. Not that he didn’t have a family now, the Archers, a cousin of his father’s he’d met once who lived in Boston, and his mother’s estranged father who lived in Hong Kong and hadn’t seen Derek since he was a baby—but it wasn’t the same.

Downstairs, he went directly to his bathroom and peeled off his smoke-saturated clothes and tossed them outside the door for Emily to launder. Though he still kept some things in his room, he doubted he had any pajamas. No matter. He might just fall asleep in the shower.

As he climbed into bed a short while later, he saw Chloe’s strong, but feminine heart-shaped face framed with dark blond hair, her hazel eyes looking up at him with such a deep fortitude that he smiled to himself. She’d faced the tragedy of the fire with amazing poise and courage. No hysterics. No meltdown of any kind. He really hoped she was okay. Maybe he should’ve insisted she come here instead of the Blackberry Inn. Emily would’ve welcomed her and taken care of her, just like she was doing with Ashley.

But that would’ve been terribly forward. It was already going to be a bit awkward to offer her a place to stay. And maybe to live. Could he go through with that? Could he invite her to live in his house?

His stomach clenched and cold sweat beaded his forehead. He flipped over to his side and punched the pillow to fluff it up beneath his head. For years, Rob and Emily had been trying to convince him to move on. Maybe now was the time.

And really, it probably didn’t matter. Chloe was just a woman he’d helped at a fire. She wasn’t his girlfriend—hell, she wasn’t even his friend. After he returned her cat, he might never even see her again, interact with her, save for the occasional head nod if they passed each other on the street.

That thought didn’t make him feel better at all.

Chloe had slept a good four hours at the Blackberry Inn, and she’d woken up feeling as refreshed as one could feel when they’d just lost their house to a fire. Until she’d called her landlord in Mexico to ask for her deposit, the last month’s rent she’d prepaid, and the rest of this month’s rent back. Why should he keep her money when the fire had been entirely his fault? Amazingly, she’d gotten him on the phone, but he’d put her off, telling her they’d settle things when he got back in January, after he’d had a chance to review what had happened. She’d told him she didn’t think that would work for her, and that she’d see what an attorney had to say. Backpedaling wildly, Vic had told her his accountant would be in touch soon. Ha! Chloe wasn’t the kind of person to sit meekly by and be taken advantage of.

Then she’d called her insurance company and filed a claim. Getting those wheels in motion had given her a small bit of satisfaction. After that, she’d tracked down the bed-and-breakfast she’d actually called the night before—the Blackbird, not the Blackberry. She’d explained what had happened and they’d graciously offered not to charge her for last night. However, while they’d booked her a room for tonight instead, they were full for the weekend, so Chloe had to find something else fast. Plus, she had yet to hear from the fireman, whose name she hadn’t bothered to ask amidst last night’s commotion, and recover her kitten. She wondered how Ashley was doing and whether she’d been to the vet.

First, though, she had to start her job at the Arch and Vine Pub.

She walked into the pub at 11:15, wearing exactly what she’d worn yesterday, which still smelled vaguely of smoke despite her applying a few coats of Febreze from the Blackberry Inn’s bathroom. And stopped short when the firefighter from last night walked up to her.

At least she thought it was the guy from last night. He was dressed completely differently: black V-neck t-shirt that fit his muscular frame to a T, dark-wash jeans, and scuffed leather boots. She hadn’t been able to make out the color of his hair because he’d been wearing his fire helmet, but now saw that it was as dark as his shirt. And his eyes—she hadn’t been able to see their color last night either—Lord, they were gorgeous. Deep, dark blue, like cerulean mixed with midnight. If her art supplies hadn’t burned up, she would’ve gone home and tried to recreate that color.

“Chloe!” he said, sounding as surprised to see her as she felt upon seeing him.

“Um, hi,” she said, at a loss for his name.

As if reading her mind, he said, “Oh geez. I didn’t actually introduce myself last night, did I? I’m Derek. Sumner.” He held out his hand and she put her palm to his. A shock of warmth rushed up her arm and spread into her chest.

She withdrew her hand before she could become officially tongue-tied. “How’s Ashley?” she managed, trying to ignore the sensations just shaking his hand had wrought.

He put his hands on his waist, accentuating the slim line of his hips. If their touch had affected him, she couldn’t tell. “Actually, Emily—she’s uh, a really good friend—just called a little bit ago to say Ashley is doing well. She had a viral infection in her eyes. After a course of antibiotic drops, she’ll be seeing as well as you or I. Or better, I guess. Cats see better than humans, don’t they?”

“In the dark, at least.” Chloe fixated for a moment on this Emily person. His description of her stuck out for some reason. Friend or girlfriend? Oh, why did it even matter? She was in no position to flirt with or date some hot firefighter.

She noticed the short, off-white apron tied around his hips. “Wait, do you work here?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “From time to time. I said I’d help out today because Mike’s shorthanded. But he left a note that he hired a new server. Is that you?”

“It is.”

“Great,” he said, smiling, but then quickly frowned. “No. You shouldn’t work today. We’ll manage. You should go . . . uh . . .”

His words trailed off as he realized what he’d been about to say. She surprised herself by smiling. “Home? Right. Wish I had one.”

“Actually, I can help you there, at least temporarily if you’re interested.”

Her mind immediately leapt to staying with him. On his couch. Or wherever. Pull yourself together, Chloe! “What do you have in mind?” She hadn’t meant for that to sound flirtatious, but thought it probably did. Oops.

“My friend—Emily—has a furnished apartment over her garage. You’re welcome to stay there until the fifteenth. Maybe you can find another place by then?”

“Maybe.” Though she doubted it. That was only ten days away, and she’d performed an exhaustive search of rentals in the area before moving there. The cheapest rent was in Ribbon Ridge, as opposed to the larger towns surrounding it, and the most affordable property—by a lot—had been the little house that had burned to the ground. Given what she knew now about the condition of its wiring and the behavior of her landlord, she understood why it had been affordable. “In the meantime, I’d love to take your . . . friend up on her offer.”

“Great. You can move in today, if you like. Although, I suppose you don’t have anything to really move in.” He peered at her from between half-closed lids, appearing sheepish. “Sorry.”

All this talk of where she was going to live and the reminder that she had no belongings—save the toothbrush and other necessities she’d picked up that morning—was threatening to kill her optimism, and she desperately needed to cling to it. She glanced around. “So, where do I start?”

“You can’t possibly think of working today,” he said, looking at her like she’d sprouted another head.

“I really want to. It’ll keep my mind off things. I’ve done everything I can. Plus, I need the money more than ever. Just let me call the Blackbird and cancel my stay.”

“The Blackbird? I thought you were at the Blackberry.” His forehead crinkled in an adorably confused way.

“Funny story.” She related her mistaken reservation shenanigans. He laughed, and she surprised herself again by laughing with him. Then he offered her one of their Archer Pubs t-shirts advertising Will Scarlett, their raspberry ale, to wear instead of her smoke-laden top. She went back to the break room, where she stashed her purse in a locker, hung up her coat, and found one of the t-shirts to change into.

When she returned to the dining room, she saw that the first patrons of the day, two middle-aged men, were sitting beneath the mural she’d admired the night before. It had been painted to look like windows facing out onto a medieval English street. The detail was amazing and incredibly lifelike. She paused a moment to look at it, hoping she possessed even a tenth of that talent.

“You like the mural?” Derek asked as Chloe approached him at the bar, which was situated in the center of the pub.

“It’s beautiful.” She’d studied the trompe l’oeil—as best as she could from the bar—while sampling the beer last night after Mike had hired her.

“Rob’s uncle painted it.”

Chloe pulled her attention from the painting. “Rob?”

“Archer. He owns the pubs. And he’s your new temporary landlord.” Derek pulled a pint of the seasonal beer from one of the ten taps. “He and his wife, Emily.”

Oh. Emily really was just a friend. Or an employer who was a friend? “And she’s taking care of Ashley?”

Derek pulled a second pint. “Yeah, she’s great. She’ll mother you too, if you let her.”

“Should I?”

He grinned at her. “Most definitely. Be right back.” He took off to deliver the beer to the two men.

The door to the pub opened then and a fifty-something-year-old man with glasses and buzzed gray hair came in. He strode directly toward the bar, then stopped short when he saw Chloe standing behind it. “What’re you doing behind my bar?”

“George, it’s not your bar,” Derek said, returning, but there was zero heat to his words. “This is our new server, Chloe. Chloe, this is George, our daytime bartender. He’s a bit of an OF—that’s old fart—so don’t take him seriously.”

“Show me some respect, young man. I was an officer in the United States Marine Corps!” He pushed past Derek and went to a corner of the bar, pulled an apron from beneath it, and tied it around his waist. “Where’s your apron, Chloe? Hasn’t Derek shown you a darned thing?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but the smile on his lips indicated this was a friendly ribbing between two men who’d likely spent a lot of time working together. “She just got here, and we have customers. I was about to tell her about the beer.”

“Lucky I showed up.” George’s brown eyes twinkled behind wire-rimmed bifocals. “No one pulls a more perfect pint than I do. Let me show you.”

George spent the next ten minutes telling her about all the varieties and showing her how to pull a pint with just the right amount of head. He was so into his tutorial and his delivery was so engaging that Chloe didn’t bother telling him she’d learned all of this from Mike, the pub manager, the day before.

“Have you had any beer, then?” George asked.

“I tried them all.” She’d sampled one or two sips of everything, and maybe a little more of a few of them.

George leaned against the bar. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“I like the Nock.” The winter seasonal was a dark stout with a smooth, chocolate finish.

“Good choice. Derek here’s a Crossbow lad through and through.”

Chloe had learned that Crossbow was their signature ale. “I liked that one too, but I’m a beer girl and I liked them all. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I chose to move to Oregon. Great microbreweries.” She turned her gaze to Derek.

His lips spread in a toe-curling grin. “And ours is the best.”

“So far, yes.” And as she took in his movie-star good looks, she realized she wasn’t just talking about the beer. She hoped he didn’t realize that too. The last thing she needed was a workplace flirtation on top of everything else. This job was more important than ever.

The day flew by as Chloe worked to stay on her toes. She welcomed the busy atmosphere of the pub, and chatting with the customers took her mind almost completely off her woes. By quitting time, she was too bone-tired to care that she didn’t have pajamas to sleep in. Though maybe she could swipe another shirt from the pub’s stock.

Derek approached her as she wiped down a table. “You should go. Here,” he handed her a slip of paper, “these are directions to the Archers’.”

Crud, she’d forgotten to call and cancel her reservation at the Blackbird, and she didn’t feel right about doing it this late in the day—it was past 7:00. “You know, I think I’m going to stay at the B and B tonight. I’m exhausted, it’s close. Win-win.”

“I could drive you to the Archers,” he offered, “but I’m not quite ready to leave.”

“It’s okay.” She smiled at him reassuringly as she tucked the paper into her pocket. “You’ve already done so much. But, I am taking another shirt. I need pajamas.”

His gaze dipped down her body briefly, but she caught it. Heat swirled in Chloe’s belly. She’d opened herself up to any number of cheesy pickup lines with that comment. Strangely, she wanted to hear every single one of them from Derek Sumner’s lips.

“Take whatever you like.” Such a gentleman. Chloe liked him even more. “Mike won’t mind. And Emily texted me a little while ago to report that Ashley is doing well, so you don’t need to worry about her. Though, if I were you, I’d claim that cat A-S-A-P before you can’t pry it away from Emily’s motherly grip. And not because Emily won’t let her go, but because Ashley won’t want to leave.”

Emily sounded delightful. Chloe could hardly believe she was taking care of a sick, stray kitten for a woman she’d never met, and she’d offered to let that woman—Chloe—live in her apartment. Everyone in Ribbon Ridge had been so wonderful, her landlord notwithstanding, but then she reasoned that he didn’t actually live in Ribbon Ridge. Despite him and the fire, she just couldn’t bring herself to regret moving here.

“I’ll go over there first thing tomorrow.” Right after she got a good night’s sleep. God, she hoped she had one.

“How about I meet you there? Introduce you to Robert and Emily, help you settle in.”

Since she didn’t require “settling” of any kind, she wondered at his motive. Then decided she didn’t care, that she’d take any excuse to hang out with him, her first real friend in Ribbon Ridge.

“Sure.”

He smiled. “You a coffee or tea girl?”

“Either, really. Though I love the chais from that coffee drive-through over on Acorn.”

He nodded with a knowing smile. “Beaker’s is everyone’s favorite coffee place. See, you’re a Ribbon Ridger already.”

Ribbon Ridger. She doubted that, but decided right then that she’d like to be. “Thanks, Derek. For everything.” She turned and took off toward the break room before she could say or do anything to let on that she was into him. There were a dozen reasons why they should keep things platonic, but after spending the day with him, she was beginning to wonder if any of them mattered.

She could just hear her mother now, “You’re dating a server in a pub?”

“Actually, he’s a firefighter, Mom. And a server.”

“What?! Haven’t I always told you never to marry a man who wears any kind of uniform? They’ll always break your heart.”

Right, but marrying a status-obsessed workaholic would’ve been just fine.

As she pulled on her coat, she thought she really ought to call her folks and tell them about the fire, but they’d only say it was proof she should come right back to Pittsburgh. They’d hated that she’d moved out here. No, hated wasn’t a strong enough word. They’d hated that she’d broken up with Ed months after their “save the date” cards had gone out. They despised that she’d moved away. To become an art teacher .

She might as well have jumped on a train and decided to be a hobo.

Smiling in spite of everything, Chloe swiped a Crossbow tee (and tried not to analyze whether she’d grabbed that particular shirt because it was Derek’s favorite beer) and left through the back door. Amazingly, things didn’t look as bleak as they had that morning. And she had Derek Sumner to thank for that.