Fireman Dad (12 page)

N
o woman could turn down a cookie bouquet, could they? Jacob studied the arrangement of glazed, heart-shaped sugar cookies behind the glass counter. The arrangement, once completed, would mirror those displayed on the countertop, each cookie pierced with a wooden stick and nestled in a vase like a bouquet of flowers.

Jacob nodded at the woman behind the counter, who stood at the ready with parchment paper and a plastic-gloved hand. “A dozen, like those in that arrangement.” He pointed to the ones he wanted and waited with a knot in his stomach while she prepared the bouquet. This had to be either the best idea he’d ever had or the corniest—probably both. Time would tell, along with Marissa’s reaction.

Jacob watched the cookies take shape into a flowery form at the clerk’s careful touch. He and Marissa hadn’t spoken since the party last Saturday. Even yesterday at church she’d seemed withdrawn, sitting on the end of the pew by Liz and staring straight ahead, sadness pinching the corners of her mouth as she listened to the preacher. She’d slipped out to gather Owen from his class and was
halfway to her SUV before he could even clear the congested crowd filtering through the double doors of the foyer.

Maybe Marissa would eventually soften toward him like the glaze on the baked cookies. He knew better than to get his hopes too high, though—the look on her face as he’d headed out the door at Olivia’s party had said far more than he’d wanted to hear. He’d reminded her of her aversion to fireman, and in the worst possible way. It burned him up inside that he had to leave his niece’s party—the very party he paid for and helped arrange—but duty was duty. Olivia understood—after all, her dad had done the same thing more times than he could count before his layoff. So why couldn’t Marissa?

“Fifty-six forty-two.” The clerk smiled and held out her hand, now free of the glove, as Jacob tugged his wallet from his pants pocket.

“Ouch.” A deep voice behind him chuckled. “Watch out if you put loose change back in that wallet. There’s got to be a hole in there now.”

Jacob turned to find Chief Brady standing behind him in uniform, a slight grin breaking his typical stern expression. Jacob’s stomach dropped as he held out his hand in a handshake, hoping his grip didn’t reveal the sudden shakiness taking over his body. “Nice to see you, Chief.” Maybe the chief wouldn’t ask who the cookies were for. He couldn’t lie—but man, he couldn’t admit the truth, either. It was one thing for him and Marissa to approach the chief together about a relationship, quite another for Jacob to admit his feelings when he hadn’t even won Marissa’s heart yet. Talk about getting shot down before even having a chance.

“Sir?” The woman behind the counter waited with raised eyebrows.

Jacob startled, then quickly dropped the bills into the clerk’s outstretched palm, the cookies blurring in his vision.
Hurry up, hurry up.
He forced a smile, like this was any other purchase.

“I’ll be right with you.” The woman smiled at the chief as she counted out Jacob’s change.

Chief Brady nodded. “No hurry, Betty. I need two of those lemon bars, as usual.” He turned and clapped a hand on Jacob’s shoulder so hard Jacob winced. “Don’t worry, son. They’ll be worth it. Women like sweets.”

Apparently so did the chief, judging by the size of the lemon bars Betty was packaging. Jacob scooped his cookie basket off the counter, relief flooding his senses that the chief wasn’t prying for names. “See you around, Chief.”

He hesitated at the door, wondering if he should apologize again for the water hose incident, when the chief pocketed his change and took the white paper bag from Betty. Jacob mentally kicked himself for the distraction. Now they’d have to walk out together or it’d be rude.

The chief slowly ambled toward the door Jacob held open, taking a bite of lemon bar before he even reached the parking lot. “So who’s the lucky lady?”

Panic gripped Jacob’s heart in a vice and his hands tightened on the basket in a near death grip. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Someone I met recently.”

“Wow, these lemon bars are to die for.” The chief reached for the second one as he neared his car. “You ever had one?”

Jacob practically wilted with relief at the change of subject, much like the sugar cookies were beginning to do in the sun bearing down on his forearms. “No, can’t say that I have.” He shifted the arrangement to his other arm and pulled his truck keys from his pocket.

“I’m a regular around here.” Chief Brady nodded at the package Jacob held. “Hope those work out for you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The chief opened his door. “When do you work next?”

“I go back on Wednesday.” That left Jacob only today and tomorrow to devote his time to Marissa—and finishing his duties for the upcoming festival, which was now less than a week away. Funny how time flew when doing something you enjoyed—in the presence of someone you enjoyed even more.

“Keep an eye out, you hear? Anything suspicious at the stations, I want to know about it.” The chief slid into his car and cranked the ignition before Jacob could question his meaning. Anything suspicious as in an irate citizen starting fires because of the layoffs? Or suspicious as in a fireman falling for the chief’s daughter?

Jacob lifted one hand in a wave to the chief before buckling the cookie basket into the passenger seat of his truck. Even before the water hose incident at the station and his feelings for Marissa, Chief Brady had been a force to reckon with. He seemed harmless enough on the outside, but his demeanor and stature were at times downright intimidating. Jacob couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have the chief as a father—certainly not easy.

He swung into the cab and started his truck. Maybe that was why firemen in general left a bad taste in Marissa’s mouth. It couldn’t have been easy living that life as a kid. The chief was married to his work, a fact Jacob both respected and disdained for various reasons. He could understand the motivation behind that level of commitment—it’d served the chief well for his career. But at what cost?

Perhaps that was the reason for the fearful anger in Marissa’s eyes every time she recalled Jacob’s interaction with Owen, and Owen’s constant chattering about becoming a fireman. Still, that didn’t seem like enough reason for the reactions she’d given these past few weeks. Owen wasn’t heading off to college and making career choices yet. He was seven.

Yet something sparked in Marissa’s eyes every time Jacob’s career was mentioned—or, as it’d been at Olivia’s party—shoved in her face.

Jacob steered his truck toward Spruce Street and Your Special Day, and shot a glance at the bouquet beside him. “I sure hope you work,” he muttered. But something told him it was going to take a lot more than cookies to break the barrier around Marissa’s carefully protected heart.

Hopefully his wallet would be able to keep up.

“Can you believe these letters to the editor?” Marissa flicked the pages of the local newspapers to straighten them and furrowed her brow at Liz, who snagged a bottle of water from the fridge by Marissa’s desk.

“What is it this time? More ‘unfair’ complaints about the layoffs?” Liz twisted off the top and gave a wry smile before taking a sip. “I could write a book about unfair, trust me.”

So could she. Marissa smiled back. “These are going a step further than the letters we’ve been seeing. I’m almost surprised they’re printing them.” She gestured with her chin. “Listen to this one. ‘Dear Editor, I must say I’m ashamed to live in a city where not only are honest, hardworking firemen let go for budget cuts, but to watch the very creators of said budget drive around
town in sports cars. I’m betting their shoes are new, too.’”

Liz snorted and nearly choked on her water. “That’s a good one. What else?”

Marissa turned the page. “‘Dear Editor, the city council and mayor might be relieved to ease the stress of budget concerns by laying off local firemen, but how stressed are they going to be when they need backup for an emergency and it isn’t there?’”

Liz nodded. “Good point.”

“You’re so civil about this.” Marissa peered over the top page of the paper. “Were you tempted to write some of the same stuff?”

“Not at all.” Liz closed her water bottle and settled into the chair across from Marissa. “It is what it is. It’s nice to hear the community standing up for us families, but truthfully, I’d rather have them contribute to things like the festival and fundraising than I would them fight fire with fire—pardon the pun—and stir up rumors of fraud.”

“I’m afraid this person doesn’t agree with you.” Marissa continued reading. “‘Dear Editor, I don’t think the city council and mayor realize what they’ve gotten themselves into. This entire situation is going to backfire and it’s going to happen quickly. You can be certain they’ll regret their rash decisions.’”

“That almost sounds threatening.” Liz frowned. “Do you think it’s connected to the arson fire downtown a few weeks ago?”

“Don’t be silly. I doubt an arsonist would be stupid enough to blab to the newspaper and give any hint of what he’d done—if it was even connected to the layoffs in the first place. There’s no proof at all one way or the other yet.”

Liz shrugged. “Maybe, but maybe not. These letters are anonymous, you know. Even the newspaper wouldn’t realize who sent them if they were mailed in with no return address.”

“You sound as paranoid as my father.” Marissa folded the newspaper and slid it into the top drawer of her desk. “By the way, how did you know about the arson? I thought Dad was going to keep that under wraps.”

“Ryan still has friends. You know firemen—they’re brothers for life.” Liz smiled. “For better or for worse—and trust me, we’re in the worst.”

Marissa wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “How are you guys doing?”

“Financially?” Liz exhaled. “We’re getting by.”

“I wish I could afford to pay you for your work here. You’ve been a lifesaver.” Marissa motioned to her nearly clean desk. “I forgot my desk was brown.”

“I wouldn’t take the money if you handed it to me. You’ve done more than enough for us, planning this festival and working on Olivia’s party last minute. Which, by the way, she’s still talking about.” Liz grinned. “The pin the tail on the pony was priceless. And I’m still finding wrapped candy in my couch cushions from the piñata burst.”

“Yeah, that should have been a backyard game, in hindsight.” Marissa laughed.

Outside, a truck rumbled to a stop in the parking lot and Liz stood up to peer out the window. “Sounds like Jacob’s truck. Ryan’s always jealous of how loud it is compared to his pickup.”

Marissa’s heart skipped and she pressed a hand to her stomach, wishing it wouldn’t be immature to hide in the bathroom or stockroom until he left. Her mouth went dry as a car door slammed and heavy footsteps sounded
on the walk. She had to be professional, for the sake of the festival and her own sanity. So what if she had almost confessed her heart’s desires to him last weekend? She hadn’t, and he’d made her choice even easier by reminding her of all the reasons they didn’t belong together—beginning and ending with that pager clipped to his belt and the logo on his shirt she could still feel under her fingertips.

The door opened and Jacob strolled inside, a towering bouquet of cookies in his hand. “Afternoon, ladies.”

“What in the world?” Liz stood to peer at the arrangement Jacob set on the desk in front of Marissa.

“I figured you deserved some flowers that wouldn’t die.” He smiled at Marissa, and her stomach flickered in response. “Of course, they wouldn’t stick around long enough to wilt even if they could. My truck smells like a rolling bakery now. I’m assuming they taste as good as they smell.”

Marissa gently touched one of the wrapped cookies on a stick. “They’re—perfect.” Like Jacob. Thoughtful. Unique. Sweet.

“And sticky.” Liz plucked a cookie from the vase, unwrapped the plastic and took a bite. “Oh, wow. These are great.”

Marissa’s fingers hovered over the arrangement, wanting to try one but unable to shake the thought that eating one would demonstrate an acceptance she wasn’t ready to give. Would it send the wrong message? Her stomach growled, and she remembered she’d skipped lunch.
Come on, Marissa. It’s only a cookie. Not a promise ring.
She took a heart-shaped cookie from a stick and took a slow bite, unable to look away from Jacob’s smile as he settled into the empty chair beside Liz.

“So what’s on the agenda for today festival wise?”
Jacob checked his watch. “You ladies have me for about two hours before I have to run some errands for my lawn service.”

Grateful he wasn’t pressing the issue of the gift, Marissa finished her cookie and wiped her hands on her jeans before thumbing open her planner. “Everything is coming together pretty well. But I’m still waiting to hear from the funnel cake vendor. Liz, you want to give them a call? The festival is Saturday, they can’t put off their decision any longer and I’d really like those cakes to be there. They’d be a big seller.”

“I’m on it.” Liz popped the last bite of her cookie in her mouth and mumbled around the crumbs. “Hand me the phone. They’ll be there.”

Marissa traded places with Liz so she could make the call and sat beside Jacob, hoping he didn’t notice the chemistry she felt sizzling between them like two pieces of bacon in a frying pan. “As for you …” Her voice trailed off as she skimmed her list. “Would you rather confirm details with the chalk box artist or check with the live band to make sure they’re still coming?”

“I’ll call the band.” Jacob glanced at Liz, whose back was turned in the desk chair as she sweet-talked the funnel cake vendor into coming at a discount. “But first …” He took Marissa’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “I just wanted to give you the chance to finish what you were going to say at Olivia’s party. Before we were interrupted.”

Marissa looked at their joined hands, wanting simultaneously to tug away and twine her fingers through his. How could she feel a pull so strongly in two completely different directions? She had to remain strong, and not let her emotions take over what she knew would only end in heartache. “Jacob, I can’t.”