Hot Mess
Authors: Anne Conley
Tags: #steamy romance, #hot firefighter, #hiv, #romance, #fireman, #aids, #steamy, #contemporary romance, #adult romance, #firefighter
By Anne Conley
Published by Anne Conley
Copyright 2013 by Anne Conley
Smashwords Edition
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Ay reproduction of other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
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Cover design by Vanessa Booke.
Edited by Catherine DePasquale.
Excerpts are from
The Firefighter's Handbook: Essentials of Firefighting and Emergency Response
; Andrea A Walter, et all; Published by Delmar; Staford, CT; 1999.
I would to personally thank Krista Martel and Dawn Averitt for their invaluable feedback, as well as Silvia Petretti and Jessica with Living Positive. All of their words of encouragement as well as gentle corrections managed to help me make this book more than just a fun story.
I also want to make sure my critique group buddies know how much I appreciate them, Vanessa, Suellen, N.J., and Brandy. Their words of encouragement, and periodic "Hey girl, what's up?" are priceless to me. And Jill. I treasure your friendship. Thank you all.
This book is dedicated to my husband, whose unrelenting support has made this all possible. I appreciate you. I hope I tell you that enough.
Table of Contents
The motto of the Roman fire brigade was "Semper Vigilans" or "Always Vigilant." It was good enough for then. It is good enough for today.--From
Firefighter's Handbook, Essentials of Firefighting and Emergency Response
Sam sat in the office chair, feeling like a wayward student instead of a grown man waiting to meet with the principal. He resisted the urge to shuffle his feet, instead crossing one ankle over his leg and striking a pose that looked relaxed. He hoped. The truth of the matter was, he didn't want to be here. He was here for his daughter. He wanted this new school to work for her, lord knew she needed something to work for her.
A sharp-looking woman in a gray business suit walked into the office holding out her hand.
"Mr. Owens? I'm Mrs. White. Come on back to my office. Mrs. Radcliff should be in shortly." Sam followed the long-legged woman, who strode efficiently toward an office in the back of the suite of rooms.
"I understand you have certain issues you want to address concerning your daughter, and as soon as Mrs. Radcliff makes it in here, we'll discuss them."
"Thank you. I appreciate you meeting with me."
"It's no problem. We love for our students' parents to be actively involved with their education." The woman offered a tight-lipped smile that contradicted her words.
About that time, a petite silver-headed woman scurried into the office, gently closing the door behind her. "I'm sorry, I got caught in the hallway by Mr. Duvall, and you know how chatty he can be…" She wore glasses on a chain around her neck, reminding Sam of a librarian.
"This is Mr. Owens, Amanda's father. He wanted to address some concerns with us." Mrs. White leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers expectantly. With Mrs. Radcliff turned towards him, Sam again felt like he was in trouble for something.
Clearing his throat, he began. "We're new to Serendipity. Amanda's mother passed away a few months ago. By moving here, we've sort of isolated ourselves from friends and family. The circumstances of her passing are not pleasant, nor the aftermath. I just wanted to meet with you ladies and explain so that you might help me with Amanda's adjustment period." They continued to stare at him blankly, making him even more uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Just so that I could be contacted if there are any problems, or anything. And to let you know the reasons behind any trouble she may cause…"
"Is she going to cause trouble?" The teacher, Mrs. Radcliff spoke first. She looked ready to stand her ground against whatever Sam was planning to throw at her.
"I don't think so, but she's had a hard time adjusting to her new … situation. I just wanted to give you guys a heads up, just in case something happened." He had actually been hoping for some empathy from her teacher, but apparently that wasn't happening. He stifled his frustration, not wanting to make things worse for Amanda.
Mrs. White leaned forward, hands on her desk. She wore a sympathetic expression. "We will do what we can, Mr. Owens, but rules are rules. We expect every child to follow the rules, regardless of personal circumstance."
"I was just hoping for a phone call if one of you sees her beginning to detach herself from the classroom, or not interacting with her peers, or something like that. I don't think she's going to be a problem."
"Well, good. I'm glad we're on the same page." Mrs. White stood, holding out her hand.
Sam stifled the rage that was suddenly burning inside him. These women were unbelievable. "I'm not finished. With all due respect, I just told you that a child's mother died, and she's moved from everything familiar to her, and asked for a little leniency with her situation, and all you ask about is whether or not she's a rule-breaker? Is there somebody else I can talk to? Your superintendent, maybe?" Sam was livid at the superiority of these women and the fact that her daughter would be spending all day long in this school. Maybe he should rethink the move.
Mrs. White's face flushed and her eyes flashed dangerously, but her voice was calm and smooth. "Now, Mr. Owens that won't be necessary. I'm sincerely sorry for your perceptions of my words. We certainly didn't mean anything negative by them. We will do everything we can to help make Amanda's adjustment as smooth as possible, won't we, Mrs. Radcliff?" The mousy woman nodded, lips pursed, and Sam resisted the urge to pummel her.
He didn't accept her offer to shake hands upon leaving, choosing instead to storm out of the office to wait outside for school to be out.
Sam had worried about Amanda all day long. Since he didn't start his new job until next week, he hoped that this time would be a nice adjustment period for everybody. After meeting with her teacher and principal, he was having his doubts.
This afternoon, he was interviewing the last of the nannies. There had only been six applicants, and this one was the only one whose references checked out. Sam just hoped she didn't need much money.
He liked the neighborhood they'd moved into, and he hoped there were kids Amanda's age she could play with. That would be easier for both of them.
He ran his fingers through his hair as he strode up to the walkers' pick-up line. It was a pretty day, if not a little chilly, even though it was February. This was Texas, after all. Still angry from his meeting, he willed his blood pressure to decrease by inhaling the bracing air.
He leaned against the brick pillar, propping a foot up against the wall and looked around. Cars with bored parents in them lined the parking lot, waiting to pick up their kids. Sam eyed them curiously, idly speculating how early some of them got there to wait. There was a lady checking her make up in the visor mirror, rubbing something off her teeth. Another had her nose buried in a book. Yet another was working hard on a laptop.
He noticed her immediately, not just because of the bright purple Impala, which was definitely something to notice, but the woman inside singing along to some song on her radio was striking. As he watched her lips move and her dark ponytail sway, Sam wondered what she was listening to that had her so oblivious to her surroundings.
Sam sauntered over to the pillar nearest her car to watch her closer. He still had ten minutes before the bell rang to dismiss the students, and he didn’t have anything else to do.
He watched her lips to see if he could read them, noticing her lashes, long against her cheeks, her eyes shut. Her hands were moving in time to the music, one clutched into a fist, banging her thigh in time to the rhythm, the other hand opened wide, swaying back and forth next to her head. She was lost in her own little world, and Sam's chest tightened in a peculiar way as he watched her.
When her eyes opened, his eyes automatically darted to his left, so she wouldn't catch him gawking. He tried to make it look like he'd been scanning the parking lot, looking for something specific. Not finding it, he glanced down at his worn boots and leaned back against the pillar, pulling one boot up against it again, trying to strike a pose of nonchalance.
He looked at his cell phone. Six minutes until the bell rang, and here he was, right next to a woman he'd just been staring at, hoping she hadn't caught him. He dared another look at her and saw her quickly look away.
Smiling to himself, he stood up straight and turned to offer her a view of his backside. He struck another pose, this time, leaning with one hand on the pillar up high. He was a firefighter, so he worked out for his job, and he knew he looked good. Sam had never had any trouble getting into women's pants. This woman, who sang to herself in the line to pick up her kid, looked like a likely candidate.
Getting bored with staring at a brick wall, he turned back around to his original position, to find the woman looking at her cell phone. Perplexed, he went back to looking at his shoes, wondering if he should ask for her number. She would certainly be a welcome diversion.
