The Firefighter's Match (9 page)

Melba’s eyes went wide. “Ladyfingers? Really?”

“I’ve been trying to guess what the guys might do. Let’s just say an internet search doesn’t bring up comforting scenarios.”

Leaning in, Melba whispered, “Do you want me to feed some suggestions to Clark? Maybe we can keep them down to a pile of pink ruffled fabric from Abby’s shop.”

“I think this is another good place for Charlotte’s advice—trying to guess will just tangle your brain.”

“You’re a smart woman, JJ Jones. You’ll go far in this tiny town—just you watch.”

It was the closest thing to a welcome JJ had gotten yet, and she let herself enjoy the feeling.

At least until one of the firefighters plunked a box of Delicate Tea Biscuits down on the table in front of her. “Here, girls. We don’t know what to do with these.” He had a poorly concealed smirk on his face, as if he’d been working on the delivery of that line all the way over.

JJ stood up, delighted to see she came eye to eye with the older gentleman. “It’s a food drive, Dave. They’re cookies. You eat them, just like everything else.”

Melba’s smirk made JJ feel nothing short of victorious. “Uh-huh,” the woman agreed as she accepted the box JJ handed her. “Very far indeed.”

Chapter Ten

JJ
was smiling when she walked into the firehouse two days later. Chief Bradens had called her to come in today to officially receive a locker and turnout gear. She was part of the Gordon Falls Volunteer Fire Department, and it felt so good to belong to something again. While she knew she needed it, JJ hadn’t realized just how much until she got the call from Chief Bradens.

“JJ! Probie!” One of the younger firefighters looked up from a pile of valves and a stack of cleaning rags. “Heard you’re in. The place’ll never be the same.”

His remark had a tiny edge of trash talk to it—the mother tongue of firefighters everywhere—but enough warmth to make JJ feel accepted. The catcall from the idiot in the kitchen, however, was met with her best “eye of doom” glare.

As she turned the corner to Bradens’s office, JJ knew to be on alert. Firehouse “probie”—short for probationary—pranks were legendary. Hosings were almost par for the course, as were sand in boots, flour on cot pillows—she’d seen or heard most of the standard repertoire of stunts. Her vulnerability would be lessened by the fact that Bradens had been forced to do a creative bit of room shuffling in order to get gender-friendly shower and changing facilities. This meant the guys didn’t have ready access to her quarters. At least that’s what JJ hoped.

Although no one actually lived at the firehouse, there were a handful of cots, a bay of showers and individual lockers for everyone. The presentation of a locker key and a name plaque over a cubby for turnout gear was the GFVFD ceremonial induction. She’d already been given a stack of T-shirts—many of which were rather enormous on her—and JJ’s uniform was on order from measurements she’d given earlier. Bradens had made it clear that the job was hers for the taking if she sailed through the training, and she had.

“Jones.” The chief shook her hand with a wide smile. She liked that Bradens called her by her last name, just like he did with every other firefighter. “Got a few things for you.”

JJ let herself grin. “So I hear.”

Bradens nodded back toward the apparatus floor, where the turnout gear hung along a wall. She could already hear the chatter from the other guys, who were no doubt lined up. If tradition were any indication, she’d end up soaking wet at some point in the afternoon.

She noticed it somewhere just outside the door. A strong scent, as if someone had brought in flowers. Pushing open the metal door, it hit her like a dozen department store cosmetics counters. The scent of perfume—loads and loads of bad perfume—filled the place with a smell strong enough to make her eyes sting.

There were each of the guys, guffawing like six graders and sporting pink clothespins on their noses. Pink daisy stickers lined a little path directly to her equipment. Some idiot had covered her helmet in baby-pink ruffles with a giant plastic flower spouting from the top. Even her boots had been covered in rainbow and unicorn stickers worthy of a third-grade prima donna.

The chief actually choked. “For crying out loud, Davidson, I said you could have a little fun with this, not empty out a department store fragrance aisle.”

Davidson responded with a snickering curtsy.

“Your enthusiasm is...suffocating.” He choked and wiped his eyes, which were watering as badly as JJ’s were—and not from laughter. “Who’s got the key?”

A miserable-looking Chad Owens reached into his shirt pocket. “And here I thought I’d gone too far.” He produced a key that was so covered in pink glitter it blinded the eye, strung up on an enormous swath of yellow polka-dotted frilly mesh.

“That’s my key?” JJ asked, not bothering to hide her distaste for the gaudy bauble. At least the hardware store could fix that quickly. She was currently calculating how many fires—or wash cycles—it would take to get the scent of bad perfume out of her gear.

“Looks more like a parade float to me. Again, which part of ‘a
little
fun’ did you guys not hear?”

“Sorry, Chief.” Jesse Sykes held a hand to his ear. “I can’t quite hear you on account of all the delightful
fragrance.
”

Snickers and hideously imitated French accents filled the air.

“I expect even Jeannie can smell the gear from here.” Chad scowled at his wife’s candy shop, which happened to be right across the street.

“I expect
Iowa
can smell it from here.” The chief scowled even harder.

“I may actually look forward to a dousing.” JJ muttered. The place—and more specifically all of her new gear—absolutely reeked. “I may hold the hose myself.” She looked at Davidson. “You do know most perfumes are flammable, don’t you?”

“It’s okay, honey,” said one of the older guys. “The fire’ll smell you coming.”

“What’s a little perfume to a sweet thing like you?” teased another.

Honey? Sweet thing? Pink ruffles were one thing, names like that were another. Chief Bradens took a breath to set the guy straight, but JJ held up a finger. With all the command of a combat veteran, JJ slowly walked up to the first man, ignoring the “uh-ohs” coming from the men behind her.

JJ dropped her voice to a menacing tone. “You will never,
ever
address me by that word again.” She glared at the other one. “No honey, no sweetie, no gal, no other such term, even if it’s what you call your favorite granddaughter. Are we clear?”

“Sure.” The first guy tried to laugh it off.

“I am absolutely, positively dead serious here. I mean somber, unequivocal, get-my-lawyer-on-speed-dial serious. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it,” said the second.

“I expected better of you lugs,” Chief Bradens’s growl came from behind her. “I can see we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

JJ coughed and fanned the air in front of her—the stench from her gear was downright overpowering. She turned and accepted the ridiculous key from Chad. “Does it still work?”

He peered at it. “You know, I’m not actually sure.” He rubbed his hands in annoyance. “The glitter gets everywhere.”

“I hate glitter. Just for the record. I’m no fan of pink, either.”

Chad frowned. “I had hoped for a better reception.” He held out a hand. “Welcome to the department, Jones. You’ve got a long uphill climb ahead of you.”

* * *

He found her out on their dock that evening, just sitting and staring into the water. He’d come to think of it as “their dock,” which was startling in itself; Alex didn’t attach himself to places like that.

He sat down next to her and offered her half of the chocolate bar he’d just opened. “Mayan recipe chocolate. From the upcoming holiday catalog. You know how I feel about Christmas in July.” He’d meant it to be funny, but it fell disastrously short of humor.

She broke off one of the squares—precisely along the scoring, while he’d just snapped off the first corner he could reach—and popped it into her mouth. “It’s really good.” He was almost going to reach out and hold her hand until she turned and assessed him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you giving me really good chocolate?”

It bothered him that she was so suspicious of his motives, even his good ones. “For one, I have yet to meet anyone worth knowing who doesn’t appreciate really good chocolate. And second, let’s just say I met Clark Bradens in the coffee shop this morning.”

She didn’t say anything. Just ate another square of chocolate.

“Don’t cave now, JJ. It was just a dog pile of stupid pranks and old-school guys who don’t know any better. Everyone’s gotten them out of their systems now. You’re not going to back down, are you?”

“Maybe I feel like another battle is the last thing I need. Maybe I need to drop this and focus on Max. It’s been a tough couple of weeks, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Come on, that’s not you. You’re tougher than anything those guys can dish out. You know that.”

“Oh, you know me so well?”

He did, actually, which was half of what was bothering him. He was brilliant in casting visions for people, in making them want things or come on board for a campaign. Suddenly he was close enough to JJ to see the emotions and motivations behind her actions—and that felt too close for comfort.

“I think even Clark sees that you shouldn’t back down now. He said as much to me.”

“Did he send you over here? Do I get a whole basket of chocolate bars if I go back?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Why is it so hard for you to believe someone might just want to be nice to you?”

She tossed the rest of the bar, still in its wrapper, onto the bench. “Everyone has an agenda, Alex.”

“It’s a chocolate bar, JJ, not a lobbying campaign. Look, I came here to make sure you were okay and weren’t thinking of quitting because I thought we were friends.”

That made her turn to look at him. “Friends? How do you think you and I can be friends in all this?”

“So everything that’s happened between us just goes away because things are complicated? Look, JJ, I admit I’m stumped when it comes to what you’re looking for from me. I don’t know what is happening here, but I’m okay with that. I don’t need a game plan and I don’t have an agenda. What I have is someone in front of me who I care about. I think she could be making a mistake, so I’m trying to help.”

“Help? Or just keep me distracted from Max?”

Alex wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her. “This isn’t about what’s happened to Max!”

JJ threw her arms wide. “How can it not be about what happened to Max? It’s all about that. It can’t ever be about anything but what happened to Max.”

“It’s about you, JJ. Wake up and realize that.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that.”

Fine. If she was going to be so blind to her own motives here, he’d lay it out for her. The least he could do was to say what her mother never would. “Nerve? You want to see nerve? I’ll show you nerve. Look in the mirror, JJ. You act as though you fell off that cliff instead of Max. Your brother is a grown man. He’s had a horrible blow, but he has to pick himself back up. Why do you think the rehab people told you to go home? Because this is Max’s battle, and while you can fight with him, you can’t fight
for
him.”

“Did marketing come up with that line for you?”

She was so stubbornly infuriating. “Cut that out.”

“How can you stand there and fault me for helping Max?”

“Because what you’re doing right now is not helping him. Giving up your own goals to push Max in the direction you think he should go is not the answer. How is not getting on with your own life helping Max get on with his?”

She stalked over to him. “Max may not have a life anymore. Or are you too worried that it might be your fault to see that?”

It struck him with such clarity that his realization felt like a punch to his ribs. Alex grabbed JJ’s wrist and shook it. “Max is alive. He still has a life. Dr. Ryland seems to think he has really good chances at keeping all of his upper-body function, right?”

“I’m sure that makes you feel better. A quadriplegic would be so bad for business, wouldn’t it?”

This time he did grab her shoulder. “He’s not dead. He’s not dying. His life is changed forever, but it’s still his life. This isn’t Angie Carlisle all over again, and you’re hurting Max by making it about how you can’t save him.”

“That was low, even for you. You should just leave.”

The tone in her voice dug under his skin, and his frustration boiled over. “I can’t!”

“Of course you can. You’re Alex Cushman—it’s what you’re all about, isn’t it? Escape?”

He had thought about leaving. He’d already tried it, essentially, when he flew to Denver. The old Alex would have been long gone days ago, especially after those blowouts with Sam. Still, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He was tied to this somehow, in a way he couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore.

He saw it, then, in her eyes. So clearly that he wondered how he had missed it earlier: JJ was waiting for him to leave. Watching for him to betray her in the way she had been betrayed before.

It settled on him like an avalanche. This was no longer about injury or money or any of those things. This was about him and her, about whether he would stand by her or leave. About whether he was even capable of standing by her, of earning her trust, of walking this journey God had clearly placed before him.

“I can’t leave.” It wasn’t even close to an explanation, but he didn’t even know himself what was going on inside him. He only knew that JJ was daring him to be like everyone else in her life, to show his true colors and betray her trust.

“Why?”

“You really don’t know the answer to that?” The part of him that still wanted to leave—the instinctive impulse of the old Alex—burned dark and shameful. It was overpowered, however, by the part of him that knew—deep down inexplicably knew—that he could go clear around the globe and not escape JJ Jones.

Her face flushed. She walked to the edge of the dock and turned from him, hiding. “Why would I ask a question I know the answer to?”

Adventure Gear’s eloquent visionary should have had a clever answer to that. Something pithy and dashing. Instead, Alex only managed to stand there staring until she turned around. JJ tried hard not to look him in the eye, but the more she dodged him, the stronger his conviction became. “Because I’m supposed to stay.” And then, even though it felt like jumping off a cliff to do so, Alex made himself add, “And because I want to stay.”

Her eyes widened and she backed up against the lamppost. “Max doesn’t need you.”

The panic he’d felt a second ago evaporated, replaced by a resolve that was as strong as it was surprising. He took a step toward her. “I’m not staying for Max.” He reached for her hand.

At first JJ edged out of his grasp, but when he took another step, she stilled her hand and let him grasp it. She was such a warrior to everyone else, yet he could see her wounds with such clarity. He waited until her hand softened, waited until her eyes stopped darting around the riverbank and settled into his gaze.

The world had taught her never to trust.

God had placed him here to undo that lesson, even in this tangled mess.

“I’m staying for you. Because I don’t think we’ve lost the two people who talked all night on this dock. Not yet. I want that back, and I’m willing to fight for it to come back.”