Chapter 1

1

ELLA

M rs. Bracegirdle had called the fire department again.

How did I know? At five in the morning, my bedroom looked like a nightclub. Red lights were flashing, pulling me out of a deep, deep sleep.

“Damn it,” I said, taking a deep breath and letting it out again.

But then I did what I always did when I saw the fire engine outside. I crept to the closest window and peeked out. Sure enough, the super hot fireman was walking from the truck to the house.

I didn’t know his name, but I’d seen him just steps from my front lawn no fewer than four times in the past month. I’d even briefly met him when he’d come to fetch my roommate and best friend, Amber, so her now-boyfriend could tell her he loved her.

That was only two weeks ago. Our eyes had met, and I was sure we’d made a connection. But he’d climbed back in that fire truck and driven off without even speaking to me.

I stepped away from the window and looked around my room. This was ridiculous. I was a grown-ass woman. Instead of spying on some hot firefighter, I could just go out there and introduce myself.

I worked for the local newspaper. Maybe I could make a story out of it. Maybe it would be one of the few pitches my boss didn’t dismiss or hand over to the only full-time reporter on staff—a guy who didn’t even care about the job anymore. He was just checking off days until retirement.

I headed over to my closet in the dark and pulled open the bifold doors. With the red lights streaming through the window, I could make out enough of my wardrobe to find something decent to wear—a skin-tight sweater and a pair of jeans. Then I shuffled to the bathroom and emerged a few minutes later, fully dressed and wearing a light touch of mascara and eyeliner. He’d buy that I was up at five a.m. and dressed, right?

I tried not to think about how obvious I was being as I headed out of the house, careful not to wake my roommate, who wouldn’t see the lights through her sleep mask.

Mrs. Bracegirdle’s front door was open, so I stepped in, my heart racing. What would I say when he saw me? What should I say?

“Hi.”

That came from another guy in a firefighter uniform. He was standing in the living room, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you this woman’s daughter?” he asked.

I looked over at Mrs. Bracegirdle. She was in her seventies, and I was twenty-three, so she’d be my grandmother if we were related. We weren’t.

I shook my head. “I’m the next-door neighbor.” That should answer his question. It didn’t explain why I was here, though. “I saw the lights. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

The hunky firefighter was on his knees in front of Mrs. Bracegirdle, who was seated on the couch, head back, eyes closed. It looked like he had a blood pressure cuff on her arm. I wasn’t an expert on things like that, but I’d watched those emergency shows on TV. Okay, so maybe I’d binged a bunch of them since first spotting the hunky fireman.

“We’re checking,” the other firefighter said. “Do you know who her next of kin is? Emergency contact?”

My eyes widened. Oh shit, this was serious. I’d assumed she was faking so she could see some “eye candy,” as she called the firemen.

I pointed toward the kitchen. “There’s a bunch of pictures on her fridge of her grandkids. Maybe there’s a number over there. I’ll go look.”

I’d been in the house at least a couple of minutes and my hunky firefighter hadn’t even glanced in my direction. This wasn’t going well at all.

But right now, I was more worried about making sure Mrs. Bracegirdle was okay. She was nosy and more than a little opinionated, but I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. She had kids and grandkids. They’d be devastated.

“Found it!” I shouted.

I came out of the kitchen holding a pink address book. It was old school—the kind my grandma had growing up. It was full of numbers and addresses. The key was to figure out which one of these was her relatives.

I went straight to the first letter of Mrs. Bracegirdle’s last name and tried to find someone I remembered her discussing. “Kayleigh!” I blurted, holding it up. “Kayleigh’s my age. That’s her granddaughter. She’s hoping to have her come at Thanksgiving.”

As I said all that, the fireman kept his back toward me. Couldn’t he hear me talking back here? No, his focus was one hundred percent on the patient, as it should be.

“Do you want me to call her?” I asked the other firefighter, who now stepped closer to Mrs. Bracegirdle and was fiddling with what looked like a two-way radio.

“Yes, please,” he said. “We’re calling for an ambulance, but it can help to have someone here who’s related.”

I shook my head. “Mrs. Bracegirdle doesn’t have any relatives here in town. They all moved away.”

That did it. The hunky firefighter turned to look at me, our gazes connecting again in a way that made my heart skip a beat. It was totally the wrong time for that, but we were doing all we could to help Mrs. Bracegirdle. It wouldn’t hurt to work together, would it?

“Do you know if she has a preferred hospital?” my firefighter asked.

My eyes narrowed. Was he new to town? He said he was a firefighter, so he should be aware that there wasn’t a hospital within ten miles of the interstate exit to this town. And it would be a ridiculously long drive to get to another one.

“I’m sure she’d want to go to the closest medical facility,” I said. “We haven’t exactly discussed hospital preferences.”

My gaze went to Mrs. Bracegirdle at that. She still hadn’t opened her eyes, and she looked a little pale. My heart sank. This could be serious.

“Excuse me.”

With those words, the other firefighter exited, closing the door behind him. I heard him talking and assumed he was working to get an ambulance here.

“Do you know if she’s allergic to any medications?” the firefighter kneeling in front of Mrs. Bracegirdle asked.

Another thing we didn’t discuss. I wanted to help, but I wasn’t sure what I could do, so I just shrugged.

“Not that I know of,” I said. “But she hasn’t been eating. Not well, anyway. I’m always offering to bring her food. She gets these donuts from the grocery store, and that’s breakfast every day. I brought her a grilled chicken sandwich the other day, and she took maybe two bites, then sat and watched me eat.”

He glanced back at me, and I swore he looked like he wanted to say something. I waited, holding my breath, hoping maybe he’d say whatever it was. Maybe he was about to tell me how beautiful I was. Maybe he was going to ask me out or tell me he hadn’t stopped thinking about me since seeing me the first time.

When he turned back to me, mouth open to speak, I waited for what he’d say next. This could be it…

Bam! The door slammed open, and in came two paramedics with a stretcher. I stepped farther back, even though I wasn’t even close to being in the way, and watched as the hunky fireman and the two paramedics loaded up Mrs. Bracegirdle. The paramedics took off with her, leaving me and the hunky fireman alone.

“They might let you ride in the back of the ambulance with her,” he said.

Not the words I’d been hoping to hear, but important words. I should be on my way to the hospital. It wouldn’t be right to leave Mrs. Bracegirdle alone. I’d take the address book with me and call Kayleigh once I was away from this guy.

“I’ll just drive,” I said. “I have to be at work at eight, but I’m sure my boss will understand.”

“Where do you work?”

I’d looked down at my fitness band to check the time, but his question lifted my head. He was staring at me like he saw me as a woman, not the substitute emergency contact for the patient he’d just treated. That was progress, right?

“I’m a reporter,” I said, loving the sound of that as it rolled off my tongue. “Well, technically junior reporter. I graduated with my journalism degree in May, and the local paper agreed to let me work full time at minimum wage while I learn the ropes.”

His eyebrows arched, and I knew I’d said too much. It was a simple question. He didn’t need my life story.

“Sorry,” I said.

I immediately cringed at my own words. Why was I always apologizing? That was something women did. I was supposed to be working on that.

“Well, I’ll see you around town then,” he said. “Reporters are always reporting on things firefighters do, right?”

“Right.” I nodded. “The next time there’s a fire or a horrible crash, we’ll probably both be there.”

That sounded awful. Cold. Crass. Like an ambulance-chasing reporter with bad ethics. That wasn’t me at all.

“I mean, not that any of that ever happens in this town,” I said.

Stop talking, I told myself. I was blabbering. The guy would never want to see me again after this. But I swore I saw the hint of a smile on that face, and he didn’t look like somebody who smiled often.

“Well, I won’t hope for bad things, but I do hope I see you around,” he said. “I’d better get out there before my partner sends out an APB on me.”

I smiled. All his partner would have to do was come through that door and tell him to get a move on, but I got it. He was looking for a way out of this conversation.

I couldn’t blame him. He was clearly in his mid-thirties. To him, I was just some recent college graduate with a bad-paying job. By the time I was somebody he might want to talk to, he’d probably be married with three kids. If he wasn’t already. He didn’t wear a ring. I checked the first time I saw him.

“I’ll see you around,” I said.

He tossed a look over his shoulder at me and gave me a slight smile just before slipping through the front door. Yeah, maybe I could pitch a story that would give me a reason to be around this hunky guy.

I was a creative. I was used to coming up with pitches. I’d been doing it since I started working at the college newspaper my freshman year. The wheels were turning. Yes, I definitely could make this work.