The Hero Next Door
Autore
Carrie Nichols
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Chapter One
Olive Downing reached for the door leading into the pub-style restaurant but stopped before making contact with the handle. Instead of opening the door, she rubbed her sweaty palms down the front of her jeans.
Quit stalling, she ordered herself. My life 2.0 isn’t going to start itself.
She opened the door and stepped into the vestibule. Judging by the muffled sounds of music, conversation and clinking of dishes and glasses coming from inside, this place was perennially popular, even on a Tuesday night.
Glancing briefly back over her shoulder at the outer door, she inhaled, then stepped into the chaos of Hennen’s, with its scents of burgers, onions and fries. Voices raised in conversation and canned soft rock played in the background.
Being invited to join a group of friends for a casual dinner might not seem like much, but making new friends had never come easy to Olive and, at thirty-three, she had found that the process hadn’t gotten any easier over the decades. Her new job as activity director for Sunshine Gardens Senior Living Center had brought her in contact with the center’s nurse practitioner, Ellie McBride. Ellie had kindly extended tonight’s invitation to Olive, who had just moved to the small town of Loon Lake, Vermont, after winning a house in a once-in-a-lifetime contest. The other woman had been kind and approachable, but Olive still found her heart pounding and her breath hitching in her chest in nervousness.
Olive spotted Ellie across the room and her coworker must’ve seen her, too, because she jumped up, said something to the others seated at the table and rushed across the room to greet Olive.
“I’m so glad you came.” Ellie took Olive’s arm and guided her toward the table, nodding and waving to others in the dining room, none of whom Olive recognized. “Everyone is looking forward to meeting you. We saved you a seat next to Cal. Calvin Pope, that is. He’s back from training and officially Loon Lake’s new fire marshal, so we’ve made him the man of the hour tonight.”
Ellie had invited her to a celebration. Olive wasn’t sure what that meant, but she decided to be pleased to be included. “But didn’t you tell me Liam was the fire marshal?”
“He was.” Ellie’s face took on a glow as she glanced toward her handsome husband. “Liam is Loon Lake’s newest fire chief.”
“Oh, wow, that’s wonderful. Congrats to Liam.”
“Thanks.” Ellie approached a table with six other people crowded around laughing and chatting.
Olive envied the easy camaraderie everyone in the group seemed to have. She’d once been a part of a similar group, back when she and Kurt had been a couple, before they’d called off their engagement. After the breakup, many of their friends felt compelled to choose sides and Olive wasn’t always the winner. As a result, she’d felt isolated and wanted to create a new life for herself...away from those people who’d sided with her ex and away from Kurt himself.
Don’t start taking a trip down memory lane, she admonished herself. Leave the past where it belongs. She’d come to this quaint town in central Vermont for a fresh start and she couldn’t do that while dragging the past behind her like overstuffed luggage.
“Let me introduce you to everyone,” Ellie said and gave Olive’s arm a reassuring squeeze, as if she’d sensed her nervousness. Olive glanced appreciatively at her coworker...and new friend?
“You met Liam the other day at work, so we can skip him,” Ellie gushed.
“That’s how you can tell you’ve made it. When you need no introduction.” Liam stood and gave a mock bow, causing the others to groan. His glance bounced around the table at his friends. “Hey, show some respect,” he joked. Turning to Olive, he said, “Nice to see you again.”
“You, too. And congratulations,” she told him, and at his startled look, she clarified, “Ellie told me the good news.”
“She did?” Liam gave his wife a puzzled frown.
“I told her about you becoming the town’s new fire chief,” Ellie said in a meaningful way.
“Right,” Liam said, nodding his head and smiling.
Olive wondered at the exchange between husband and wife. Had she and Kurt ever had that type of silent communication? She soon found her attention drawn back to the table when Ellie motioned to her.
“Everyone, this is Olive.”
Ellie introduced everyone. “That’s Liam’s sister, Meg McBride Cooper, and her husband, Riley Cooper,” she said, gesturing to a pretty redhead and a gray-eyed man. Nodding at a man with his arm around a brunette, she added, “That’s Brody and Mary Wilson. And last but not least, here is Cal Pope.”
“The new fire marshal,” Olive said and nodded at the man, who jumped up and pulled out the chair next to him.
Olive’s heart kick-started. Not only did he have manners, but he was also gorgeous. She was a respectable five feet eight inches, but still had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. And... Oh, my, she thought, staring up at those wide shoulders, unkempt ebony hair and deep-set, dark brown eyes that crinkled in the corners.
Was this a simple get-together with friends or some sort of setup, since everyone else was paired off? She couldn’t decide how she felt about that. Nor did she know whether to thank Ellie or be frustrated with her if this was indeed an attempt at matchmaking.
Either way, she admitted, she had to applaud Ellie’s taste.
She sat on the chair Cal had pulled out. He took his seat and she smiled, murmuring her thanks to him. He frowned briefly, for some reason, before slowly returning her smile. She may have missed the evanescent negative expression had she not been studying his features. What was that about? Had she done something to annoy him? Or was he wondering the same thing she was, speculating that Ellie might be trying to set them up with one another? If so, he apparently didn’t approve—of Ellie’s attempts, or of Olive herself?
As she exchanged the usual getting-to-know-you small talk with the others, Olive remained acutely aware of the brooding man sitting next to her.
“Olive, did I mention that Cal is also one of your neighbors?” Ellie leaned forward to glance down the table.
“Oh?” Olive turned to him and those brown eyes sent a tingle through her. That intense gaze was raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She swallowed. “Which house is yours?”
“The blue Cape Cod across the street from you,” he said.
He was close enough she could smell his spicy scent. She realized that if she shifted her thigh slightly, hers would be touching his. She recalled that brief frown when she’d first sat down next to him. Did he think she was in on the matchmaking attempt, if that’s what this was? Under the guise of getting herself settled at the table, she scooted the chair away from his as much as she dared without being obvious. She didn’t want to appear too forward in front of strangers. “I wasn’t sure that house was occupied since I hadn’t noticed anyone coming or going in the month since I moved in.”
“That’s because I’ve been away for that training Ellie just mentioned.” He glanced down at the newly increased distance between their seats.
Had she insulted him by moving her chair? That hadn’t been her intention, but she stood her ground. “That’s right. Didn’t you recently take Liam’s job?”
Cal glanced at Liam and back to her. “Well, it’s not like I stole it or anything. Liam got a big promotion.”
“Yeah, I guess being fire chief is better than...” For crying out loud, Olive, stop talking! she scolded. She hadn’t intended to imply he’d taken something that he hadn’t earned, but to her ears, that sure had sounded like what she’d meant.
“Go on,” he said, his lips twitching. “You were saying being fire chief is better than...?”
God, talk about feeling gauche, like being back in high school trying to fit in at a lunch table in the cafeteria, or at least not call attention to herself. And failing miserably. She’d never been the type of person who liked being the center of attention. That could lead to questions about her situation. She’d confided in someone she’d thought was a friend in high school, but the other girl’s response was to spread the information and act as if Olive’s circumstances had been her fault. After that, boys had taken more notice of her, but she suspected their interest wasn’t altruistic.
Her savior appeared in the form of a waitress. Tiffany, according to her name tag, glided up and stood in the narrow space between her and Cal. “Can I get you something to drink before I take food orders?”
She was tempted to order a bottle of...something alcoholic—anything to dull the awkwardness. But she was driving home later, and Olive knew that she was not exactly a drinker. “A diet cola, please.”
Tiffany nodded but hadn’t taken her gaze off Cal. A sliver of irritation slid down Olive’s spine, which she did her best to shake off. “How about a refill?”
“I haven’t finished this one yet,” Cal said and watched the waitress saunter away before turning back to Olive. “Where were we?”
“I was admiring your house earlier,” she said, hoping to reset the conversation.
“You were? Funny, but I seem to remember you just disparaging how I got my job. So what makes my house so attractive?” He picked up his soft drink and took a sip, studying her over the rim of the glass.
Busted. “I apologize, but I sometimes suffer from foot-in-mouth disease. I’m happy that you got a new opportunity.” She adjusted her napkin in her lap. “But I really do like your house. Did you have the exterior painted recently?”
He set down his glass. “Actually, I spent the better part of last year renovating it myself. Inside and out.”
“A year?” She shuddered. “I hope that doesn’t portend how long it’s going to take me. I’m looking forward to eventually getting the B and B up and running.”
“I did most of the work myself, so it took longer than if I’d hired it done. Was reopening the place as a B and B part of the terms and conditions?”
He was obviously referring to the contest she’d won. No surprise there. Everyone in town knew about it and people stopped her on the street or in the supermarket to inquire about it. Not that she could blame them. That contest was the only reason she was the proud owner of an impressive Queen Anne Victorian home in Loon Lake. The previous owner, an eccentric woman in her nineties, had laid out strict terms in her will that the home she’d once run as a B and B be given away as a prize to the person who’d wrote the most heartfelt essay. It was purported that Sadie Pickard insisted on the contest because she feared her heir would repurpose her beloved home. Many of the Victorians around town had been turned into offices. The rules stated the winner had to live in the home and couldn’t subdivide it by turning it into offices or apartments. Olive learned the woman’s great-nephew had fought the will’s terms, but, in the end, had to acquiesce or lose out on his aunt’s other assets. Olive still had to pinch herself that she’d been chosen the winner. Writing the essay had been easy. She’d fallen in love with the property the minute she’d seen the picture. Unfortunately, the reality of the house had been a far cry from the photo in the advertisement. The fact the place had sat empty while the great-nephew fought over the will hadn’t improved its condition.
Even after moving into the magnificent home, Olive frequently found herself caught off guard by the fact this had happened to her. She would have to sit until the giddiness wore off. Other times she feared she was dreaming and would wake up any minute. But it wasn’t a dream, and a twelve-room mansion was hers. Her home. Those two words sent a tingle down her spine. Having a place that belonged to her, even if she didn’t have anyone to share it with, was a dream come true. After all, she’d spent a portion of her childhood in foster care. In her teen years, everything she’d owned could have fit in just a garbage bag. And, truth be told, she didn’t have a ton of personal possessions now, but finally having a permanent place to call home was wonderful. Having a family of her own one day to fill that very home would be—
“Olive?”
The sound of Cal’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. “Sorry. No. Reopening the B and B wasn’t a requirement for entries, although I do have to live in the home myself, but that’s not a hardship. I love the place. It has a few eccentricities but I’m learning to love those, too.”
“So you can’t unload the house?” His eyebrows dipped toward the bridge of his nose.
“Why would I want to?” she snapped. “I may not have grown up with the desire to run a B and B, but the idea has its appeal.” She’d fallen into her current profession when her last foster mother had suffered a stroke and been placed in a skilled nursing facility. Olive had visited her often and become friendly with the other residents.
Prior to that, Olive had been uncertain about her career path but looked into elder care and earned a bachelor’s in health-care management with a certificate in senior-living management. During college she’d volunteered at the skilled nursing facility. Soon after graduation, the position of assistant activity director opened up at a large facility, where she gained enough experience to apply for an opening at the same place as her foster mother. Several years after accepting the job, her foster mother suffered another stroke and passed away, or Olive would never have considered leaving that facility.
She’d started researching what went into running a B and B when winning the place had been just a pie-in-the-sky dream for her. She might not have a family to call her own yet—or have had one growing up—but filling her house with other happy people and their children would go a long way toward filling that need in her, she knew. But it was as if fate had stepped in and given her a push. With her foster mother gone and her engagement broken, it had been easier to cut her ties to Worcester, Massachusetts. And the opening at Sunshine Gardens had been that final piece falling into place.
“Living there is one thing, but trying to open a B and B is going to be difficult. Do you have any idea the enormity of the undertaking?”
She stiffened at his dubious tone. In the past, she’d surpassed people’s expectations of her. Her first foster parents had taken her shyness as a sign of low intelligence and the other kids in the home had berated her. And some of her teachers had scolded her for a lack of ambition because she held herself apart, preferring to assess a situation before jumping in. As an adult, she’d learned that she required thinking time before jumping into a task. It wasn’t a lack of anything, but simply the way her brain was wired. If she’d listened to them, she wouldn’t have earned a college degree. Or found work in a field she enjoyed. “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy.”
“Not easy doesn’t even begin to cover it. I haven’t been inside, but I shudder to think of all those violations.” He shook his head and laughed.
The deep baritone of his laughter skittered across her nerve endings and her stomach tensed. Oh, my. She really would need to be cautious to keep her feelings reined in around him. It took a moment, because she’d been distracted by his laugh and her reaction to it, but his comment finally sunk in. “What do you mean by violations?”
“Fire-code violations. I could give you a list off the top of my head if you’d like.”
Now the laughter balled in her stomach for a totally different reason. Talk about an about-face. Who was he to be making fun of her aspirations, even if she did have a lot to learn? Most of her energy had been used to relocate and get accustomed to the routine at her new place of employment. Once settled, she’d planned on putting time into researching everything involving opening a B and B, including bringing things up to code. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you, anyway.”
She mentally kicked herself for even broaching the subject with him. Of course, she knew getting a business like a bed-and-breakfast off the ground wouldn’t be exactly easy. She’d been in the house barely a month but already had a notebook full of wish lists and a laptop with bulging Pinterest pages. Having done some preliminary research into local contractors, licenses she’d need to obtain and regulations she’d need to abide by, Olive was aware she had a long way to go before she could declare her B and B open to the public. But she could picture the finished product and that vision fueled her determination to make it happen. Were this man’s insinuations that she might fail his way of trying to be friendly? If so, he could learn a thing or two from Ellie about how to be kind to strangers.
She smiled at him, determined to remain friendly despite his skeptical attitude. “I know I have a lot of work ahead of me.”
He scowled at her. “Did you think you could just take possession of the place and reopen?”
“Of course not. I’m not naive, Mr. Pope.” Didn’t your former fiancé have a different opinion? She pushed aside any thoughts of Kurt and straightened her shoulders. “Look, I—”
“Hey, you two.” Liam tutted and pointed at them both. “Cal, first day on the job and you’re already harassing the town’s newest resident?”
Olive blinked and glanced around, feeling a sudden heat scorch her cheeks. Everyone at the table was looking at them both and grinning. Great. Her first shot at making friends in her new town and she’d already gotten into an argument with the guest of honor. Would they ever invite her to join them again, or would they promptly cross her off the list? She could imagine everyone gossiping about them already.
She wanted to regret arguing with him. She should regret it. But she didn’t. It wasn’t so much Cal Pope’s words that had had her blood pressure spiking; it was the manner in which those words were delivered. He’d laughed at her. At her plans. As if her feelings hadn’t mattered. She’d spent too much of her childhood realizing that her feelings didn’t matter once she was in the system.
Although it had been tough, she’d liked her first placement. So, after three months, when she’d been informed it was time to leave, she’d begged to stay. Both the caseworker and her foster parents explained that this had been short-term. Her foster mother informed her that they were what was considered emergency placement.
She could still remember asking why she couldn’t stay and being told she needed to leave to free up a spot so her foster mother could take in another child. At the time, the experience had made her feel as if she’d been shouting into the void.
As an adult she understood her removal hadn’t been her fault and another person needed help, but she still hated to think that protocols could be more important than people.
She wasn’t going to put up with it now, either, so she deliberately turned her back on Cal Pope and asked Mary Wilson how she could become involved in her summer camp for foster children.
Despite having turned her attention to Mary while talking with her, Olive was still acutely aware of the presence of the man seated next to her. She might have done her best to tune him out, but she had difficulty ignoring her physical reaction to his dark good looks. Besides, his remarks about her plans still irked her.
“So, tell me what it’s like to live in such a grand house?” Mary asked, drawing Olive from her thoughts. “Do you get lost in all those rooms?”
“I had to buy some scatter rugs to cut down on the echo in the rooms that are sparsely furnished so far.” Olive laughed. “Which is most of them.”
Mary nodded. “Sadie’s great-nephew probably took everything that wasn’t nailed down. That house could use a bunch of kids running in the halls and playing in the yard.”
“That’s my fondest wish,” Olive said and winced at the wistfulness she detected in her tone. She didn’t need to spill her guts to people she’d just met. Hoping to lighten things up, she laughed. “I probably should find a husband first.”
Mary smiled and leaned forward to look around Olive. “Hey, Cal, you still a confirmed bachelor?” Olive’s heart dropped and she looked anywhere but at the firefighter at her side.
“Why? Are you finally planning on leaving Brody to run off with me?” Cal joked.
“What’s this about my Mary running off?” Brody turned and gave Cal a narrowed-eye glare.
“Just as rumor.” Mary patted her husband’s hand. “Don’t pay any attention.”
Although Olive was enjoying getting to know Ellie’s circle, she knew it would probably be best for all concerned to limit her interactions with Cal in the future. She was determined to make friends in Loon Lake, not lose them. If that meant staying clear of any arguments—or especially any romantic entanglements—with Cal, then so be it. She was in control of her libido. So for now she’d be polite and smile, even if she didn’t feel like it.
Cal scowled at the back of Olive’s head. He itched to twirl one of those curls around his finger. Would it be as soft as it appeared? Would it spring back once released?
What was wrong with him? He was thirty-five years old not some randy teen without any urge control. But that damn smile of hers was messing with his libido. Why her? What was it about Olive and her smile that made him act like such an ass? The waitress kept smiling at him, sending out signals, and it did nothing for him. Of course, that woman was most likely a college student and he was well past the age when coeds had caught his eye.
It wasn’t as if Olive had any stake in her reopening the B and B or not. No, his rudeness was a direct result of that high-wattage, full-faced grin she kept aiming at him. Bull’s-eye. It hit its mark each and every time, but his reaction was all out of proportion to the situation. Or was it? He hated to think of what could happen to her if there was ever a fire in that ramshackle building and she couldn’t get out. That’s what he should have told her, rather than jumping all over her and embarrassing her.
Olive laughed at something Mary said and that husky laugh curled around his belly. He tried to focus his attention on the waitress as she went around the table taking everyone’s orders. Yeah, way too young for him. And she didn’t have long, blond, corkscrew hair or that full-wattage smile.
His gaze moved back to his new neighbor. She shook her head at something Mary was saying, making her hair swish around her shoulders like a hula dancer’s grass skirt. Even from the back, those blond curls fascinated him. No, blond was too bland a word to describe that color. There were shades of honey, amber and sun-kissed wheat.
Damn, but that wasn’t helping. He glanced down the table, past Olive. He’d focus on the others at the table. Liam was his best friend and Ellie was like a sister to him. Ellie had told him how much she liked Olive, though, so hitting on her new coworker with no intention to making it permanent would be like making time with your sister’s best friend, or your best friend’s sister. A no-no in anyone’s book. A double no-no in this case.
Except Riley and Liam were best buddies and Riley was now happily married to Liam’s sister, Meg. So it can happen, a sly voice reminded him until he pushed it out of his head.
And something told him that Olive had “white picket fence” written all over her. And no way was he falling into that trap. Marriage and happily-ever-after were a myth. His own past was all the proof he needed.
But that didn’t excuse him from scoffing at her plans for reopening the B and B. Even if everything he’d told her was true—he had a feeling that place was one code violation after another—he could have gotten his point across without being so rude. And he had upset her, but every time she turned that bright smile on him, it set off all sorts of warning bells in his head, unleashed all sorts of jitters in his gut and shaved points off his IQ.
The only other time he’d reacted on a gut level to a woman, she’d turned out to be an investigative journalist looking for a where-are-they-now? story about his father’s financial crimes. Despite the ten-year statute of limitations running out, whenever a similar crime happened, his father’s notorious actions were once again dragged out for public consumption. Embezzling millions and never getting caught turned the ugly business into a myth similar to the state’s infamous unsolved Berkshire armored-car robbery in Rutland.
Mary was temporarily diverted as the waitress took her order. In that interval, Cal used the distraction to touch Olive’s arm to gain her attention.
She turned toward him, a slight furrow marring her brow. “Something wrong?”
He did his best to ignore the urge to explore that little wrinkle with his hands and his lips, and pasted on a smile, hoping the expression didn’t look as pained as it felt. “I owe you an apology.”
“Oh,” she said and blinked.
“I shouldn’t have jumped on you about code violations.”
She shrugged. “It is your job, and you take it seriously.”
“I do, but that’s not an excuse to be rude. I’m your neighbor,” he added, “and you might not have known that stuff.” Besides, you’re far too beautiful to have your brow furrowed like that... He dismissed those intrusive thoughts with a concerted effort.
Olive nodded and half smiled at him in acknowledgment, then turned back to Mary to resume their conversation. Though she’d apparently accepted his apology, Cal found himself feeling strangely unsatisfied.
What did you want? he asked himself sarcastically. Her to jump into your arms and start kissing you passionately? The idea appealed to him more than he wanted to admit, and he began talking to his friends.
The rest of dinner passed swiftly, with Cal sneaking covert glances at Olive. They didn’t speak further at the meal, but he wondered what she was thinking. She’s definitely not thinking about you, he told himself forcefully. Definitely. Not.
These ruminations continued as the friends exited to the parking lot and split off to drive home.
Shaking his head at his thoughts, he started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot. He drove along Main Street, passing the town green, with its restored white gazebo that doubled as a bandstand for concerts and picnics in the summer. He passed the brick-fronted businesses and the white Greek Revival church, with its black shutters and steeple bell tower. These gave way to rectangular early nineteenth-century gable-roofed houses, some of which had been repurposed into doctors’ and attorneys’ offices.
He’d enjoyed his time in the air force but something about Loon Lake had called to him. As a result, he’d returned to his hometown to work in the fire department, despite the difficult memories from his childhood. But that wasn’t strictly true, as not all of his memories were bad. There were a lot of good ones, too. Of course, his father’s actions the summer Cal had turned fifteen eclipsed any good for many years. Cal felt that returning to the scene of his dad’s crime, as it were, had been the right thing. Some of those good memories were returning, helping to replace the bad, and he was making new ones.
He pushed aside those thoughts. Thinking about the past was unproductive. Slowing, he turned onto his street. As usual, the majestic Queen Anne Victorian, now a fairy-tale castle-shaped hulk in the darkness, captured his attention. The once-beautiful home had fascinated him as a child and, despite it falling into disrepair in the past decade, that fascination hadn’t waned. And now, having met the current owner, he was even more curious.
He hadn’t had a chance to really get to know the previous owner, Sadie. He’d talked to her several times in passing after he’d moved into his place, and she’d mentioned the conditions of her will. He would’ve sworn he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, but he understood Sadie’s attachment to the home. And Olive’s, too. He might have understood Sadie’s attachment, but he still considered the contest business a bad idea. Look at how it was tying Olive into knots trying to take care of the place. The nature of the contest almost guaranteed the home would end up in the hands of someone unprepared to take on such a project.
Darkness shrouded many of the house’s features, but he knew them by heart and could picture the home in his mind. The well-proportioned structural components included elaborate dormers and gables, plus a three-story octagonal tower. The gingerbread trim was ornate and plentiful, but not too ostentatious. In his opinion, the crowning glory was the porch, which ran the length of the front and curved around the tower on the side.
“Veranda,” he corrected himself. That old-fashioned term was the only way to describe the grand porch.
He pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine. Enough thinking about the house, and Olive, its new occupant, for one night. He’d do his best to avoid her—and that smile that was so charming it could make him consider buying swampland in Florida—in the future.
Despite his resolve, he couldn’t help glancing across the street as he shut the door of his truck.
She’d come onto the porch and was silhouetted in the light cast from the house through the open front door. Was that a watering can in her hand? He shook his head. If she wanted to water plants at ten in the evening, that was her business. He wasn’t—
A sudden squeal and a crash stopped him in his tracks, and he whirled around. Olive was still on her porch, but was frantically flailing her arms about.
The sight spurred him into action, and he sprinted across the street to her, his heart pounding hard enough to escape his chest. Once there, he leaped up the steps, nearly tripping on the watering can, which was lying, abandoned, on the veranda’s wooden floor. After kicking it aside, he reached out and grabbed her by the elbows. “Olive? What is it? What’s wrong?”
She was practically hyperventilating. He looked around, trying to find the source of her distress, and found nothing.
He gently pushed her into one of the wicker chairs and hunkered down in front of her. “Put your head between your legs.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Between your legs,” he said again.
Shaking her head, she said, “I’m fine now. Honest.”
He studied her face. She was pale but her breathing had slowed; she seemed to have recovered. “Wanna tell me what happened?”
“Not really.” She huffed out a small laugh. “But I guess you deserve an explanation.” She inhaled. “I—I was going to water the hanging ferns. I meant to do it this morning before work and forgot. I did the first and—” she took a shuddering breath “—I walked into a humongous spiderweb. I didn’t see it in the dark.”
“A spider’s web?” She’d practically given him a heart attack over a stupid spiderweb? He’d rescued soldiers in the midst of battle, dodging incoming rounds as he accompanied the wounded to the helicopters waiting to extricate them from combat. Not once had he reacted as he had when he heard Olive’s cry. Was he going soft or was this particular woman getting to him already?
“You walked into a spiderweb?” Relief made his tone curt.
“Yes, I walked into a spiderweb,” she repeated, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I realize that is nothing compared to what you must’ve seen or experienced during your time in Afghanistan or even as a firefighter once you came home.”
She pulled away from his grip on her elbows and he dropped his arms to his side. He hadn’t even realized he’d still been holding on to her. He rose and took a step back.
“I’m sorry if I startled you.”
Startled him? Lady, you have no idea. He swallowed the harsh words that bubbled up. Once again, his reaction to her was his fault, not hers.
“You scared me,” he admitted. “I thought you might be seriously hurt or in danger. That really got to me.” Just pour your heart out, why don’t ya? Get a grip, he ordered himself.
“I really am sorry,” she said in a small voice and glanced down at her feet.
Now he felt like a heel. What was it about this woman that had him tied in knots every time he interacted with her? “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” She nodded, then smiled. “Well, except for those nightmares I’m going to have about spiders getting stuck in my hair.”
“Are you an arachnophobe?”
“I prefer to call it a healthy respect for insects and creepy-crawlies. They can live their lives as long as they let me live mine. Preferably without our paths crossing.”
“Good philosophy.” He let out a rough chuckle. “I feel that way about clowns. And, yeah, I know ninety-three percent of the population treat it as a joke.”
“I guess I’m one of that percentage that doesn’t get it, but I can respect it.”
“Thanks.” He glanced around. “And if that gets out, I’ll know the source.”
“I assure you—they won’t hear it from me,” she said and crossed her heart. “And thank you—again—for coming to my rescue.”
“Even if you didn’t really need it?”
“Especially then,” she said. When he raised an eyebrow, she continued, “I mean, I wasn’t exactly pleasant toward you tonight at dinner.”
He waved off her words with one hand. “I was the one who was rude, not you. I shouldn’t have laughed.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“And I’m sorry for that.”
“Well, it’s your job to know all those things about fire safety and code violations. And I would expect you to be zealous about it. I hope when the time comes, I can count on your guidance.”
“I’ll be here for you.”
Wait...what? I’ll be here? he thought, admonishing himself as he stood up to go home. No. You’re going to stay away from Olive Downing. Far, far away.
