Safe in the Fireman's Arms (13 page)

“What’s going on?” she asked, unable to keep the panic from her voice.

He shrugged.

“No. Seriously, Beck. This is not the time for monosyllabic.
What is going on?
”

“I think you have a few admirers.”

“You think all of those men are here for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why. How?”

“Some rumor.”

Maggie put her coffee and scone on the counter. “Now what? I’m not in the paper again, am I?” She released a short, nervous laugh.

Beck nodded.

“I’m in the paper again?” Maggie’s gaze searched the room until she found the paper near the cash register.

“Front page.”

She skimmed the article about the Founder’s Day event, and then unfolded the paper. Then her mouth dropped open. A photo of her watching the band with the caption: “Maggie Jones, who’s arrived in Paradise to find a husband, enjoys the Founder’s Day supper. More photos on page four.”

Rustling the paper, she turned the pages quickly to page four. “I’m only on the front page. That’s a plus.”

Except the damage was already done. And this certainly explained her strange morning. Once again, panic welled up inside. She waved a hand toward the street. “What am I going to do?”

As if on cue, a loud knock rattled the door.

“We don’t open for thirty minutes,” Maggie called.

“It’s Bitsy Harmony.”

Maggie unlocked the door and yanked it open. “You have a fix-it emergency?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m not here for that. I want to know what your strategy is to deal with this.” Bitsy slapped the newspaper in her hand against her palm. “And that.” She nodded toward the ever growing line.

Maggie closed the door. “Strategy? Are you kidding me? I still don’t have a clue how this happened, much less how to stop it.”

“You sell papers.”

“I what?”

“The last two issues that featured you on the front page broke all records. The newspaper is a dying form of communication. Can’t blame the
Paradise Gazette
for trying to stir up revenue.”

“I can’t? I was planning to discuss the word
slander
with them.” Maggie shook her head. “I should demand a retraction. Yes. That’s it. A front page apology, as well.”

“That’ll only irritate folks. You’re new to town. You can’t afford that kind of alienation. A new teacher and all.”

“How did you know...” She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. “Never mind.” Maggie sagged against the counter. “I can’t just do
nothing
. Did you see that line out there?”

“Paradise has always had an inordinately large population of men, compared to the number of available women,” Bitsy mused.

“That’s not my fault.”

“I recommend that you let them think your affections lie elsewhere,” Bitsy remarked.

Maggie blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You like Jake.”

“You like the chief?” Beck asked, breaking into the conversation.

Maggie inhaled sharply as she turned to the teenager, just realizing he was still in the room. “We’re friends. The chief and I are friends.”

Bitsy looked at Beck. “Would you excuse us for a few minutes?”

Beck dragged himself slowly to the back of the shop.

“That young man has a crush on you,” Bitsy said quietly.

“Beck?” Maggie glanced at the door that had closed behind him.

“Yup. Be careful. He’s impressionable, and I’d say he’s jealous of the chief.”

“I’ll be careful, but you’re the one who mentioned Jake.”

“So I did. For good reason. There’s not a thing wrong with allowing folks to make assumptions. They’re going to make them anyhow. After all, this is Paradise. So why not lead them in another direction.”

Maggie put a hand to her head, and then realized her ponytail was gone. “You want them to think...Jake and I?”

Bitsy nodded.

“Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. In fact what you’re suggesting is exactly what Aunt Betty calls diving straight from the frying pan into the fire.”

“There’s a difference when it’s by choice. Then it’s called long range planning.”

“That makes sense, I think.”

“Of course it does. You’re simply going to take what looks like a problem and turn it around to benefit your goals here in Paradise.”

Obviously Bitsy had confidence that Maggie actually had goals. Maggie glanced at the wall clock. The minute hand joined the hour hand. Quarter to nine. Time to open the shop. She swallowed and reached for the door.

* * *

She knew the moment Jake entered the shop. How was it she had extra sensory perception when the man was around?

“Please don’t tell me you have a broken toaster. I’ve spent the better part of my morning looking at toasters. Most of them suffering from user error.”

He chuckled. “Good to see you, too, Maggie.”

She wiped her chin with an oil rag and fought to ignore him, though her traitorous eyes continued to sneak glances at his profile.

“Actually, I’m here in an official capacity.”

“Of course you are,” she mumbled. Apparently he hadn’t spent restless hours thinking about their kiss. No, the man was all business on a Monday morning.

“The sheriff called me. He’s had a few complaints that your customers were parking in the fire lane.”

“You handle traffic, too?”

“I’m the fire marshal.”

Silence stretched.

“Earth to Maggie?”

“Hmm?” She reached for a Phillips screwdriver. Jake’s hand covered hers.

Maggie jerked back at the contact and met his gaze.

With a small frown, Jake reached out and held her chin.

“What are you doing?” Maggie asked, as she attempted to pull away.

“Hold still. There’s grease on your chin.” He took the rag from her hand and gently wiped her chin before releasing her.

“Thank you.” Face ablaze, Maggie turned away.

“What’s going on in that computer-processing head of yours?”

“I’m appalled and humiliated that there was a line of men outside the shop this morning.”

“Ah, the picture in the
Gazette
. That explains why you’re hiding behind that ball cap and those baggy coveralls.”

She picked up the patch of oil-stained rag from the counter. “I’m not hiding. I didn’t want to get my clothes dirty, so I changed when I got to work.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “What happened?”

“Ralph Meyer—the butcher—brought me bacon. Not ordinary bacon, either. It’s specially cured with a tad bit of maple syrup and honey.” She sighed. “Andy Pickering, the librarian, gave me flowers from his garden.” She met Jake’s gaze. “And Duffy. Duffy was at the head of the line. He brought in a laptop. In about one hundred pieces.”

“I’ll take care of Duffy, but there’s nothing I can do about the rest of them.”

“I’d like to know who wrote that article. Who thinks I’m looking for a husband?”

“Are you?”

Maggie jerked back. “No. I only just got rid of...” She stopped when she realized Jake was grinning.

“I’m glad you find this so amusing.”

“Not amusing. More like eye-opening. Seeing you all worked up, that is.”

She took a deep calming breath. “What can I do for you, Fire Marshal MacLaughlin?”

“I came to ask you to remind your customers that parking along Main Street is only for thirty minutes and never in the fire lane. Ever.”

“You want me to police the streets of Paradise?”

“A friendly reminder when they come in. That’s all.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Maggie said as she tossed the rag in her hand down.

“You do that.”

Maggie gritted her teeth at the laughter that underlined his words.

“Look, I’ve had a really bad morning,
Chief.
To top it off, I spoke with my parents earlier. They felt the need to reiterate their platform, which is, of course, that I should move back home like a good little girl.” She slapped the counter with her open palm. “I won’t do it.”

“Whoa. You’re full of surprises, Maggie.”

“Am I?” She frowned. “Not really—normally I’m as uncomplicated as vanilla ice cream.”

“I like vanilla ice cream.” He leaned closer to the counter and waggled his eyebrows. “Quite a bit as it happens.”

She pointed to the door. “Stand in line.”

“You’re not good for a man’s ego.” He glanced over at the duffel bag and sneakers in the corner. “Those your running shoes?”

“Yes. Sometimes I go running after work.”

“Really? Care to go for a jog with me sometime?”

“You run?”

“Yeah. What do you say?”

“Maybe.” She gave a noncommittal shrug as she rested her arms on the counter. She couldn’t think. Her mind was swirling in a thousand directions at one time.

“How about this Sunday, after church?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maggie, I’m not asking you to marry me. It’s two friends getting together to enjoy the great outdoors.”

Two friends.

Was that all they were?

Then she remembered her conversation with Bitsy. Maggie shot straight up and slapped her forehead.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked.

“I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

Here she was discouraging Jake, when Bitsy wanted her to encourage him. She swallowed, gathering courage. The important thing was to not mention Bitsy. Jake had a knee-jerk reaction when Bitsy’s name was mentioned.

“Maggie, are you in there?”

“Yes. Yes.” She mustered up a smile. “Maybe you could help me.”

“You’re smiling. What’s up?”

“My life is spinning out of control and I really want things to settle down. I’d like to go back to flying under the radar and living my life without complication.”

“And that involves me...how?”

“You said we’re friends, right?”

“Ye-e-ss.” He said the word slowly, almost as if he realized that they were about to step into dangerous territory.

“You do things alone and I do things alone.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Maybe we could do some things together. Friends and all.”

His head jerked back a tad at the unexpected words. “But you just said... Wait a minute. Are you asking me out?”

“No,” Maggie huffed. “Oh, never mind.” She waved a dismissive hand through the air. “I knew this was a ridiculous idea.”

“Hang on there. No need to get all worked up. Give it to me one more time. I’m a little slow today. Chuck had an emergency last night.”

“Is Chuck okay?”

“Yeah. Turns out he managed to pull the laces off my boots and swallow them.” Jake winced. “Everything came out all right eventually, according to the vet.”

“Glad to hear that.” Maggie grimaced. “I think.”

“So run that by me again,” he said.

“I’m asking you to be my escort around town. Join me for dinner and such.”

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“That was a hypothetical example. I can do carryout, you know.”

“Right. And toaster pastries.” He shook his head. “What’s going on, Maggie?”

“I need my life to return to normal.”

“Define normal.”

“I want that line outside to go away. I want people to say ‘Maggie who?’ when my name comes up in conversation.”

“This is Paradise. Good luck.”

Jake crossed his arms and stared thoughtfully at her. “However, we are friends and I am willing to give your plan a shot if you think it will be good for your mental health. Because when you’re distracted trouble always follows.”

A delicious shiver raced over Maggie as he stared at her; then reality slapped her in the face.

Jake MacLaughlin was now on Team Maggie. She’d be spending more time with the man who ignited crazy sparks of unfamiliar emotions inside her. She took off her glasses and rubbed the throbbing place in the middle of her forehead.

Two friends helping each other out. That’s what she told him. Now all she had to do was convince her heart that’s all they were.

* * *

Jake washed his hands in the sink before reaching for the truck keys. His stomach growled and the thought of a nice thick steak made him quicken his pace in anticipation. Monday meant the surf-and-turf special at the Prospector.

He was out the door and unlocking his truck when he remembered his conversation with Maggie this morning and her crazy idea about hanging out together to quash her suitor problem.

Thinking about Maggie went deeper than her goofy plan. Maybe even deeper than that kiss on Saturday, though he’d given that some thought, too. It had been a chaste kiss, as far as kisses went. Still, once his lips touched hers and he’d tasted the softness, the sweetness, the goodness that was Maggie, he realized he was in trouble.

They’d avoided discussing the kiss, but eventually it would come up again, because he couldn’t help but want more even with the sirens and warning lights blazing all around the woman.

Yet, with Maggie it was more than the possibility of kisses. He enjoyed her smiles and the way her eyes lit up when she laughed. Enjoyed their conversations. She was one smart woman and kept him on his toes. Made him forget that he was nearly eight years older than her.

He wracked his mind trying to think of a legitimate excuse for dropping by the little house. Should he call? No, that would sound premeditated. Though she was the one who said they should do their alone stuff together. Dinner more than counted, right?

“I was in the neighborhood.”

He practiced the line several times before rejecting it as lame.

Okay, he’d head over there and hope he thought of something really clever before he arrived.

When he pulled the truck to a stop in front of the cottage, he spotted her sitting on the front porch. “Hi,” he said, strolling up the drive.

She looked up from the stack of papers in her hands and smiled.

Definitely a welcoming smile. He’d take that as a good omen.

“I thought we were going running on Sunday?”

“We are, but I was hungry for a steak. Can you take a break from your work if I promise you the best steak this side of the Rockies?”

She glanced at the paperwork and set it aside. “Your offer sounds better than an evening of paperwork.”

“Great. I’m thinking the Prospector restaurant in town. They have twice-baked potatoes the size of melons. Oh, and the salads. Fresh and crisp, with their secret ingredient—the house dressing.”