Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3) (3 page)

Oh, her parents had offered to pay and help out. But she was thirty. It was time to be a big girl and solve her own problems. Besides, she’d wanted consistency for Colleen, and she’d wanted to grieve near her friends. But slowly, those friendships had faded. Scarlett was no longer a military wife—she was a widow. A daily reminder that what happened to her husband could happen to her friends’ husbands.

As the remaining life insurance ran out, she’d invested practically all of the initial payout into a trust fund for Colleen. She’d realized that the future meant moving to St. Louis. Hopefully two years had been enough time for Todd’s family to grieve. Same for her own. She did not want either of them to see her return as a chance to meddle. Her life. Her terms.

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Colleen announced, and Scarlett realized it had been hours since they’d eaten last, somewhere just east of Springfield.

“Granny said she’d stocked the fridge,” Scarlett told her.

Colleen looked around the kitchen. “We don’t have a refrigerator.”

“Yes, we do,” Scarlett said, finding it behind the cabinet doors. “See, it’s built-in. And look, Granny filled it all up.” Scarlett pulled out a pound of hamburger, then tried to figure out which cabinet would hold her frying pan. “Let me call Granny and I’ll cook us something to eat. And then we’ll unpack.”

“Yay. Tell her we live in a castle. Can I help?”

Her daughter hadn’t connected that her grandparents had already been in the house. “You may help,” she agreed, not bothering to correct the grammar. “Go wash your hands again. Do you need me or can you reach?”

“I’ll reach. I’ll stand on my tiptoes.”

As Colleen entered the bathroom, Scarlett began opening cabinets, scrounging for her frying pan. She found it in the last one she checked, and called her parents once the burgers were sizzling.

“Hey, we’re here.”

“Good.” She heard the relief in her mom’s voice. “The weatherman said it’s about to get really ugly out there. I’ve been wanting to call you, but not if you were on the road.”

“Well, we’ve arrived safe and sound. Thanks for the groceries. And for the unpacking. And for everything.”

“You’re welcome, although Brad did most of it, including buying food. He’s a good friend, that one. A good man. We can’t wait to see you tomorrow. You use tonight to settle in.”

“We will.” Suddenly, Scarlett didn’t feel like talking. Brad had helped? Hadn’t he already done more than enough? When she’d pressed him a week ago as to why he was helping her, he’d brushed off her concerns. Evaded answering. A wave of pure exhaustion rolled over her. “Hold on. Let me pass you to Colleen.”

She passed Colleen her cell phone. “Hi, Granny! We’re living in a castle,” Colleen told her, and Scarlett could hear the excitement in her voice. “My room is pink. It’s pretty.”

Scarlett found a spatula and flipped the burgers. There were even buns and microwavable macaroni and cheese cups that just required you stir in some water. She pulled two of those out, ripped off the tops, got them ready to cook.

“Granny says she’ll see us tomorrow,” Colleen said, holding out the phone.

“Mom?” Scarlett asked as she put the phone to her ear.

“You rest up tonight,” her mom said. “And be sure to kiss my granddaughter for me. And honey, I love you. It’s going to be great living here. You’ll see.”

After echoing, “I love you too,” Scarlett set her cell down. She found plates, finished cooking. Tonight, like all the rest of the time on the road, the meal lacked vegetables. She’d worry about those tomorrow. Tonight, she just wanted to eat, cuddle with her daughter, and get some solid sleep. Much later, bath time skipped for this one night, both she and Colleen snuggled under the covers and fell fast asleep.

*   *   *

As Brad Silverman slipped into the churning current of the muddy Mississippi, he ignored the immediate shock caused by entering the frigid water. As a former Navy SEAL, Brad had been through much worse, both during BUD/S and during missions still too classified to talk about.

Today he fought the swift, ice-filled river for the St. Louis Fire Department’s Marine Unit, searching for the man who’d fallen overboard. Unlike Brad, who wore a specially insulated wetsuit that covered every inch of his skin except his eyes—and those were covered with a specialty mask—the man exposed to this water would quickly succumb to the elements in five to seven minutes.

He prepared for the worst. Despite his gear, he could feel the cold. He hoped he’d be in time; he’d dealt with death too often and would prefer tonight not be one of those nights. He nodded to his partner, Lewis Graham, who was forty to Brad’s newly minted thirty. Lew, half-human, half-fish, still competed in triathlons and always won his age group. Despite the rock-hard six-pack abs that Brad had exposed in that god-awful charity calendar he’d been talked into doing, Lew still made Brad, who swam ten miles a day, feel like a proby.

With the St. Louis Fire Department’s Marine Unit Task Force for almost a year, Brad loved his job, especially the thrill and danger of saving people. After leaving the SEALs, he knew he needed a job that kept him active and even though he had to go through the fire academy, he knew he’d made the right choice. “I see him!” Brad called, and together he and Lew retrieved the man, the rescuers on the fireboat reeling in the ropes to pull them all to safety.

“I think he’s alive,” Brad heard someone call as the boat sped across the water. He and Lew leaned back, the subzero wind smacking against their faces. Firefighter paramedics worked on the man they’d rescued, and once on shore, transferred him quickly to the waiting ambulance.

Forty minutes later, back at Station 11, where the task force called home, Brad held a mug of hot black coffee laced with five packs of sugar between his hands. His fingers were numb; the chill of the water hadn’t worn off yet. Worse, the other quint truck had been out on a call, and a blast of cold air seeped into the living quarters as the huge doors opened when it returned home. Brad glanced at the clock. Eight thirty p.m. The sun had been down for almost three hours, and Scarlett should have arrived at the house. Carrying his coffee, Brad retrieved his cell phone from his locker. She’d sent him a brief text, telling him she and Colleen were home and going to bed.

He allowed himself one huge sigh of relief. Even though he’d helped her parents set up her furniture, part of him hadn’t believed she’d really move. Every day he’d waited for her to call and tell him she wasn’t coming, that she’d changed her mind, that she was staying in California.

Scarlett was stubborn, and for two years Brad had watched as she’d refused everyone’s help. He’d listened during their phone calls—ones he’d always initiated. Two years ago, he’d called her monthly and she’d only talked for a few minutes. Then their conversations had grown longer and longer, and he’d called her every other week, then talking weekly for about an hour each time as her other friends drifted away. She’d fought moving back to St. Louis. She hadn’t wanted to be dependent on anyone, especially her parents. He couldn’t blame her. He understood independence and often missed the sun and surf, too, especially on days like today, when he went into an ice-packed river to perform one of the twenty-five to thirty river rescues the department did per year.

He sipped more coffee, and pulled the photo from where he kept it on the top shelf of his locker. There they were, frozen at their graduation. Todd on the left, then Scarlett, then Brad, wearing their robes. The blonde, the redhead and the brunette, his mom had called them. That day they’d vowed to be friends forever. Less than month later, he’d stood by Todd as he’d married Scarlett in a gaudy Vegas ceremony crammed in before they’d started basic training.

Brad reached into his locker, pulling out the manila envelope. He turned it over, studying creases long memorized. He knew the instructions inside by heart. Inside were two letters—one for him and one for Scarlett. Todd had given implicit directions as to when Scarlett’s letter was to be delivered. Even though he was curious, Brad had never looked at the letter. A man did not question his orders and his best friend’s last request. Whatever Todd had written, it was for Scarlett and for Scarlett’s eyes alone.

A loud noise erupted as the loudspeaker blasted out another call.

Brad quickly put the photo and the envelope back. Closed the locker. Put his coffee mug in a safe spot as he raced for his gear. When not out on the water with the task force, Brad was a firefighter, and he was headed to a house fire, probably another one started by a faulty space heater. They’d had three of those this month already, one with tragic results.

It’s one reason he’d gutted his house and installed all new, top-of-the-line, high-efficiency HVAC. Even with three floors, Scarlett and Colleen would be warm. Now that both were here, he could finally fulfill the promises he’d made to Todd. Maybe then the guilt would stop.

Chapter Two

After sleeping like the dead, it was the strange noises that finally woke her. There was a scraping sound. Then a faint whoosh. She lay in bed with eyes partially opened in the darkened room and tried to place the sound. She sat up in bed as the ten-year-old memory returned. Scrape. Whoosh. Scrape. Whoosh.

Someone was shoveling the sidewalk. First came a gritty push of metal blade on concrete, followed by the whoosh of snow flying. The bedside clock flickered ten a.m., meaning she and Colleen had slept almost twelve hours. She consoled herself that it was only eight in San Diego. She slid out of bed, so not to disturb her daughter, pulled down the T-shirt that had crept up and headed to the front windows. She pushed aside the thick heavy curtain and looked down. At least five inches of snow covered the front porch roof. Beyond that she saw Brad at the end of the front sidewalk, where it formed a T with the sidewalk that ran parallel to the street. Sans hat, glossy dark hair gleamed in the midmorning sun.

Scrape. Whoosh. He lifted the light snow easily, and she saw him stop to wave at a neighbor across the street. The forty-something neighbor shook her head. Mouthed back she was fine. Brad returned to the walk, sending another shovelful flying. Although Scarlett couldn’t see any arm muscles bulging under the bulky black parka he wore, he made the work appear effortless. The parka dropped over his hips, and she followed the line down a pair of faded blue jeans that tucked into heavy, mid-calf snow boots. The bad boy that sometimes haunted her dreams had turned domestic. Who would have thought? He attacked the walk with a concentrated gusto that hinted at a leashed power, one that if let loose … She trembled slightly. He’d never scared her, but he was dark and brooding in that Heathcliff sort of way, although even that description didn’t quite fit.

One brief, stupid kiss and he’d been a watchful presence, a forbidden fantasy pushed to the recesses of her mind.

Sensing her, he glanced up and caught her staring; she gave him a brief, guilty wave and then let the curtain drop into place. Colleen was now awake and sitting up in bed. “Get into the bathroom,” Scarlett said. “And I bet your tummy is rumbly.”

“I am hungry,” Colleen agreed. Ten minutes later, with their teeth brushed and both of them dressed, they made their way down to the kitchen. She had no idea how to work the brand-new Keurig single-serve machine, which was sitting on the counter, so instead she found the hot chocolate packets and a large measuring cup, which she filled with water and put in the microwave.

She retrieved a bowl from the third cabinet she opened. Finding the puffed rice cereal only took one try. Milk, well, that was easy. Spoons were found in the fourth drawer she pulled. Colleen had climbed up onto one of the eight bar stools surrounding the island and pretty soon Scarlett had her daughter eating cereal and sipping hot chocolate. Scarlett used the remains of the hot water to make her own cup of hot chocolate. She heard the stomps on the back porch before she saw the shadow in the doorway. The bell buzzed and she unlocked the door to allow Brad to step inside.

“Hey,” he said. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you, too,” she said, taking a step back as he moved forward. At six feet, he towered over her smaller, five-five frame. This was the first time she had seen him since the service and if possible he’d gotten even better looking. The sharp angles and brooding stare that once gave him a bad boy vibe now made the man standing before her stunning. No gray marred his temples, his hair still a wild mess as dark hair swooped toward his left eye, fell in a wave and curled around the bottom edge of his ear. Sexy, night-before stubble graced his jawline, made a circle around full lips that drew a woman’s attention immediately. Even her daughter stared at him, transfixed, as if a real life Disney prince had walked in their back door. Brad was Prince Eric, Prince Charming and Snow White’s prince all rolled into one.

He closed the door, shutting out the arctic blast and shoved GORE-TEX gloves into a parka pocket. His lips formed a tight kiss as he blew on his hands. “It’s chilly out there.”

“Mommy?” Colleen asked, green eyes still wide. “Who is this?”

Scarlett snapped to attention. Where were her manners? She waved Brad onward. “Come in, come in. Colleen, remember those pictures I showed you? This is Brad. Brad, Colleen.”

“He’s not in uniform.” Her nose wrinkled as she studied him.

“Nope, I’m off today,” Brad told her, leveling her with a high-wattage grin that had the power to thaw even the toughest of little girls and even smarter women.

Colleen melted immediately. “Is this your castle? I like it.”

“Castle? What?” He turned confused brown eyes Scarlett’s way. While he knew how to melt hearts of all ages, he clearly didn’t know how to talk to little girls. Still, that gaze knew how to hook a woman.

“Colleen believes we live in a castle now. She’s very into Disney princesses,” Scarlett clarified. “Our old house was as big as this whole floor.”

“It’s a very big house,” Colleen told Brad with an all-knowing nod. “So it must be a castle.”

“Sure it is,” Brad agreed, clever enough to play along. “All you need is a prince.”

“I’m still too young to marry a prince. Mommy says I need to be at least twenty and besides, they’ve all been taken. Mommy also said that no prince is going to find her because she was married to my daddy. Princesses are single until they find their one true love.”