The Perfect Match (7 page)

Ellie stomped her brakes before some ambitious cop pulled her over . . . in her long johns, tears running down her face. She could just imagine what the local law would think . . . or worse, what the town gossip page would write.

Local fire chief breaks sound barrier. Ellie Karlson, Deep Haven’s new fire chief, was arrested Sunday afternoon, wet to the bone and dressed in thermal underwear, for breaking every speed limit in Deep Haven. She gave no account for her excessive speed. . . .

Except, of course, if it were true gossip, it would describe one tall, dark, and curious pastor, his timely appearance, and his lifesaving rescue. Hopefully it
wouldn’t mention that his north-woods charm had nearly turned her to mush. To think she’d actually considered, for more than a minute, having dinner with him. She wanted to keep driving right off the pier. Did she think she’d finally found a man who might, just possibly, see beyond her badge to a woman full of fear as well as courage? a woman who could be both feminine and fierce?

Thankfully, he’d snapped her to her senses with that “no badge” comment. How dare he? Obviously Pastor Dan was threatened by the thin piece of tin, and for the second time today she could thank God for stepping in to save her.

She crawled down Main Street, forcing a smile, trying not to focus on the families walking along the shore or feeding the gulls. Sundays had always been filled with games, big dinners, and laughter in the Karlson home. How long had it been since she’d spent the day in rest? enjoying relationships?

Nearly fifteen years. She gritted her teeth and forced back the wave of melancholy. Getting knocked down had obviously jarred loose her emotional baggage. Maybe a good shower, lunch, and a walk with Franklin would help her pin it back in place.

She waited until the street emptied, then dashed out of her car, taking the steps to the hotel two at a time. Passing an elderly couple rocking on the porch, she kept her head down, barreled through the hotel lobby, and ran up the stairs.

Franklin looked up from his place on the center of her bed as she slammed the door behind her. His big brown eyes blinked.

“Don’t ask,” she said, peeling off the coat, throwing her helmet on the chair, and stepping into the shower.

The hot spray sloughed off her frustration. She braced her hands on the shower walls, let the water course over the back of her head and down her spine.

Would Dan keep his word? She winced, rewinding her dire predicament, his laughter and his promise. He’d seemed . . . sincere. So much so it had nearly toppled her off her professional bedrock. Friends.
Right.
The second she gave in to that impulse was the second he’d be pushing her to hang up her fire axe.

She’d do well to remember that she’d had her pick of men over the years, and none of them—not one—had been able to see past the job. No, she’d made her choices, and she wasn’t going to trash fifteen years of sacrifice for a moonlight walk and a husband to cozy up with when the night got cold. Or when life got tough.

She needed a man to protect her like she needed a lump on the head.

But hadn’t Dan just sprung her out of a very long and embarrassing imprisonment?

She shouldn’t have let his voice, so filled with concern, rock her. Long ago she had decided that the standard marriage, family, and homemaker life wouldn’t fit into her life goals. Then why, with a
whoosh,
did the image of Dan’s hand in hers fill her brain? It hadn’t helped that he’d led her, with firm gentleness, out of harm’s way.

Maybe she wanted protecting more than she wanted to admit.

Or maybe Pastor Dan simply had a way of finding all the unprotected corners of her heart and zeroing in for the kill. She’d have to give him wide berth if she
expected to escape his very subtle, charming blitzkriegs. She had a job to land, a reputation to prove.

Turning off the water, she hopped out, dried off, then unearthed a pair of track pants and her new Deep Haven sweatshirt. After slicking her hair back in a tight braid, she woke up her lazy dog, pulled him off the bed, and headed for the door in her jogging shoes.

Miss Good Housekeeping, indeed. She slammed the door. Come Monday morning he was going to discover she didn’t have a domestic bone in her body.

Y
ou made her mad,” Joe Michaels said as he jogged around the high school track.

“You think?” Dan ran beside him, sweat beading on his temples, his chest heaving. After a day of training, he felt worn to the bones, fatigue a heavy blanket on his shoulders. He was in worse shape than he thought. “How many times around?”

“Four. You’d think we were on the high school track team or something.”

“This is not how I’d hoped to spend my Saturday.” Dan thought of his cabin, still waiting for the back wall to be constructed. “How many times did we go over the different classes of fires?”

Joe shook his head. “I’m just trying to recover from the stress of hauling that dummy down the ladder. I think she put boulders in the arms.”

Dan glanced at Ellie, who was proving a point by running fifty paces ahead of the pack. She’d made no friends today, talking to seasoned firefighters like they
were probies. Between the beginning firefighter instruction about the tetrahedron of a fire, the different types of fire and standard techniques for extinguishing each, and the organization of FAST—Firefighter Assist and Search Team—Dan wondered if she thought any of them had working gray matter. Half the guys had left after lunch, announcing that she’d used up her allotted time. The remaining bunch, twelve of them who had decided they liked their work—or maybe their feisty chief—had run rescue scenarios all afternoon.

Only a light, autumn-scented breeze and the fact that he’d have another chance to see Ellie made the day bearable for Dan.

Who would have thought, a week after his colossal foot-in-the-mouth comment, that she’d still treat him like two-day-old roadkill? She hadn’t even met his gaze, even when their hands had touched while retrieving water from the cooler. The porcupine returneth.

He finished his lap in tight silence. Joe and he veered off the track, gripping their knees, breathing hard. She had already finished and walked between her “men,” checking on them, drinking her water. She had her hair back in a ponytail and had donned a baseball cap to shade her eyes. With her workout clothes and springy step, she looked about sixteen. If it wasn’t for the fact that she’d made a point of humiliating them all by folding a forty-five-pound hose then hauling it the length of the football field, he would almost think she was here to cheer them on—a firefighter groupie.

“How are you doing, Joe?”

Slave driver stood against the sun, her outline putting Joe and Dan in shadow. “How’s Mona?”

Joe straightened, wiping his brow. “Feeling good finally. Thanks for asking.”

She smiled as if she hadn’t, only an hour ago, berated him for “killing” his victim by dropping the dummy forty feet on its head. “Liza told me you picked out names.”

Dan shot Joe a look. “You have names?”

“Maybe.” Joe ducked his head. “Mona has a small list she’s compiling.”

Dan looked from Ellie to Joe and back. Since when did she know more about Joe’s life than his best friend did? Dan tried not to feel affronted.

Joe turned to Ellie. “Are you done torturing your firefighters, or is there more fun on the agenda?”

Ellie gave him a narrowed-eyes look, one that came with a smile that voided any malice. Why did Joe always get away with sassy comments? Fire Chief Ellie would flatten Dan with a scowl if he even hinted at being tired. Dan shook his head, turned away, watched the other firefighters gathering their duffel bags. Mitch Davis and two other firefighters, looking burly and not at all winded, stood in a clump, probably trying to decide whether to shower before heading out to Billy G’s Pub and Bowl.

“No, I think that’ll be enough training today, Joe. Thanks for sticking in there,” Ellie said.

“I gotta get home, then. Mona’s probably back and looking to fill my ear about her doctor’s appointment. She’s bracing herself for weight gain, and my job is to talk her down from the ledge.”

Was that a giggle from Ellie? Dan nearly glared at Joe, who took off toward his bag of gear.

Which left Dan standing with Ellie. She glanced at
him. Her smile dimmed. “Uh . . . thanks, Dan, for your hard work today. How’s your shoulder?”

It throbbed and felt like someone had used it for batting practice. “Oh, fine. Thanks. I know how to bounce.”

Ah, a faint smile from the fire chief. It almost felt like the real thing. “You’ll be a great addition to the FAST team. Thanks for taking the position.” She turned to leave, but he reached out, hooked her arm.

“Ellie, how are you?”

She looked pointedly at his hand on her arm. He removed it but stood close enough to keep his question between them. “I’m fine.” She didn’t look at him.

“Fine? As in ‘I just made it through my first week by the skin of my teeth,’ or fine like ‘Wow, I’m thrilled with my new job. What a cinch’?”

She stared at him hard, as if debating which answer to give. Then with a loud sigh she shrugged. “Considering half my crew abandoned me at lunchtime and the other half thinks I’m Attila the Hun, well, I think things are about as terrific as they can be.”

“I’m still here. And I’m pretty sure you’re not a Hun. At least you’re a lot less hairy.”

One side of her mouth hitched up. “I shaved my beard off this morning.”

Dan touched his chin. “Me too.”

She really smiled now, and it felt like a fresh breeze. “Donning your pastor motif, huh?”

“Yeah, well, gotta please the masses. Can’t show up at the pulpit looking like a hooligan.”

She laughed. “Somehow I can’t picture you as the hooligan type.”

He blinked at her. “Oh, really?” He knew his smile had dimmed, but his brain traveled back to only a week ago when she’d thought he was the local brute squad leader. “I’m glad to hear that.”

A gentle, comfortable silence passed between them. She stuck her hands in her jacket pockets while the wind played with the caramel-colored strands of hair it had dislodged during the day. She wasn’t wearing makeup today—something he hadn’t missed, but now he noticed how much younger she looked without it. Standing here with the sun grinning down at them, he almost felt fresh out of high school, his entire world before him.

“Hey,” he said through a bevy of swelling feelings, “why don’t you come to church tomorrow? Joe and Mona attend. And Liza.” He had his eyes on her reaction, hoping she’d say yes, but out of his peripheral vision he saw Joe digging through his duffel and grabbing his cell phone.

Ellie rubbed her arms as if cold, and a faraway look entered her eyes. “Yeah. Maybe. What time?”

Joe flipped open his cell phone and immediately his face darkened. Something was wrong.

“Ten-thirty service. Adult education is at nine-fifteen.”

She made a mock painful face. “I don’t have any church clothes.”

Oh, how he wanted to say something about her long johns. Some quip that might make her laugh or even forgive him for his offensive comment, but Joe’s expression had him off balance. “Wear your jeans. We’re a casual church.”

“Really?”

Joe now stood board still, his face twisted. Then, as if
perceiving Dan’s gaze, Joe turned, stared at him. Joe was ashen.

“Yes. Excuse me, Ellie, will you?” Dan hurried toward Joe, who listened into his cell phone, nodding, his eyes locked on his pastor. Dan felt a streak of fear at the torment in Joe’s expression.

“I’ll be right over. It’s going to be okay, honey.” Joe closed his telephone, looked at it. He swallowed in an audible attempt to force back emotions.

“What’s up, Joe?” Dan noticed that the man was shaking.

Joe closed his eyes. In a voice so low it sounded more like a groan, he said, “Mona lost the baby.”

Ellie watched the two men walk away. Something about Joe’s posture made her heart sink. Dan had his hand over his friend’s shoulder, pastorlike. As they’d been chatting—or was it teasing each other?—she’d seen his subtle shift from playful fireman to town minister. Concern filled his eyes, he frowned, and then his attention had snapped to his friend in need. All that focused worry had tugged at a forlorn place in her heart. She wondered suddenly what it would be like to be on the receiving end of such compassion.

She shrugged it away and jogged over to Bruce Schultz and Craig Boberg, who were tossing their gear into large duffel bags. “Thanks a lot, guys. I appreciate your dedication today.”

Bruce gave her a warm smile. “You surprised me, Chief. I didn’t know all that about hazardous materials. Don’t get many of those up here.”

His words blessed her. She’d spent most of the week preparing her lecture on Hazmat procedures. In the big city, it was part of basic firefighter training, but she’d suspected that on the North Shore of Minnesota, the biggest hazardous-material event was cleaning up Main Street after the annual Moose Days Festival.

“Thanks, Bruce. Hey, I’m putting together a new schedule. I’d like to staff the station 24/7 with an on-site captain and an EMT. I noticed on your experience that you’d taken an Introduction to Fire Officer course. I don’t suppose you’d consider taking a test to become captain? I need another capable body.”

Bruce tucked his helmet under his arm. “I’ll think about it. How often are we on?”

“I think you’ll be on once every four days. I’d sure appreciate it.”

She left him and marched up to Mitch Davis and his group. Ernie Wilkes had stripped down to his jeans and was pouring water over his head. She averted her eyes. “I’m putting together a duty schedule,” she said to Mitch and went on to explain new staffing. “I’ll add you into the roster, okay?”

But Mitch wasn’t listening to her. His gaze went over her shoulder, and a smile twitched his face. Two college-aged girls had jogged onto the track and were slowly making progress around the quarter-mile loop. Their eyes were fixed on the clumps of firefighters, beauty-queen smiles on their faces. Ellie rolled her eyes . . . firehouse groupies. She turned to deflect them when Mitch strode past her and fell into step with them.

So she’d add him to the schedule. It would only increase his hero status. She shook her head and bid the
other firefighters farewell. She heard a few making plans to meet at Pierre’s Pizza down the street, others at the bowling alley. No one mentioned a word to her. She tried not to let that ping in an empty place inside.

Hauling two of the rescue dummies to her Jeep, she opened the door and plopped them in. By the time she returned to the field to collect the hoses, the crew had dispersed . . . including Mitch and his two fans.

She took a deep breath and sat on the grass. Franklin had jumped off the front seat of her car and now found his way into her lap. She rubbed his ears, twisting them gently between her fingers as she ran over the week’s events.

She’d served one entire week as chief. No calls—well, except for a cat wedged under someone’s latticework. She’d managed to get the animal out with her pike pole without having to call out the squad.

Ellie had to admit,
nowhere
did she know of a fire chief required to make house calls. She’d envisioned putting together training schedules, coordinating EMT services, working the budget, overseeing the maintenance of machinery, and commanding incidents. At least that was what she’d trained for.

Instead, she’d spent half her time cleaning the firehouse until it shone, checking equipment, poring over files, assembling her crew into squads, and meeting with city officials. The other half of her time she’d been glued to the telephone, trying to prod the fire marshal to send up a fire investigator. In the end, she’d had to trek out to the Simmons place—this time armed with Steve Lund, her paramedic and friend—and gather evidence from the bathroom herself. She’d boxed it up, along with photographs and two witness reports, and sent it to Minneap
olis. How they’d uncover the truth two hundred miles away baffled her, but she’d done her job and closed the case until they called her back.

If she were honest, the high point of her week had been the daring cat rescue. It had been ages, two years at least, since she’d donned her turnout coat for a real blaze. Even though all she faced were a couple of nasty front claws and a worried elderly woman, the adrenaline had run through her veins like a shot of caffeine.

She missed the action.

Today, training with her men, she’d felt challenged, alive, passionate about saving lives. Today she felt like a real chief.

And then Dan had to make her laugh. That, too, felt good. He’d mocked her in a gentle way, rekindling all those budding feelings of friendship from their encounter on the beach. And the fact that he hadn’t mentioned her mishap last Sunday had touched her. So maybe he was a man of his word. A man she could count on . . . at least in a fire.

Could she count on his friendship too? Maybe she should hang up her shield long enough to find out. He seemed to respect her authority, and he hadn’t groaned once today, although she knew his shoulder had to be turning him inside out. He’d been the first to pounce off the grass, the first to invest in her discussion of Hazmat procedures, and although she avoided meeting his eyes, she saw him slug at least two other men who were whispering.

She didn’t want to speculate on the topic of their low-murmured conversations.