If she couldn’t date a firefighter, maybe she could be friends with one.
They wandered along the perimeter of the party, where the crickets were louder than the music, chitchatting about everything and nothing at all.
The chief reappeared, startling her. “They’re closing up shop soon. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
Now that she was getting to know Nick better, she didn’t want this night to end, yet it wasn’t fair to lead him on. “Me too,” Lily lied.
“Let’s hit the road.” Nick whipped out a big key ring and twirled it on his finger.
The ride in the backseat was uneventful, with the static of the sports-talk radio station and the chief’s directions on how to get to her house on Sunflower Summit.
“Did Nick tell ya? He’s our new Santa Claus this year,” Chief Maresca said.
Her heart fluttered at the idea of him sticking around for the next two months. “Good luck.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick glanced in the rearview mirror.
“Oh, nothing. Everyone loves Santa. I’m sure you won’t have
any
trouble.” Lily grinned at the mental picture of him dressed as the man in red.
“What do you mean—
trouble
?”
“You know, some kids carry grudges for not getting what they wanted last year.”
“Don’t listen to her. She’s messing with you. We have nothing but respectful kids around here. They’ll love you. Just don’t make any promises Santa can’t keep.”
When they pulled into the driveway, Nick got out and opened her door. He hung his hand on the roof and lingered like he was waiting for something more than just her to slide out of the backseat. Her phone number, perhaps?
Under the bright streetlight, his dark eyes were a friendly-ferocious combination, which gave his features an edgy air of danger.
This is what he must look like at the end of a date. Smoldering. Kissable. Irresistible.
She wasn’t accustomed to this breed of masculinity.
“I’ll see you around,” he whispered in the wind, and she wanted to say she hoped so, but not in front of the chief.
She ran to the door with headlights shining behind her until she was safe inside.
Peeking between the drapes, she watched the red taillights until they were out of sight. Maybe out of sight, but never far from her mind, not since the day they met.
Was she completely out of her mind for considering, even for a single second, getting involved with this man?
With her fingertip, Lily wrote the answer on the foggy glass. “Yes.”
Then, recalling her mother’s advice, she swiped the word away with a swift fist and an excruciating, “No!”
Chapter Six
Lily’s unrelenting refusal to go out with Nick gave a
mile-wide stubborn streak
new meaning—wider than the Long Island Sound. She played hard-to-get with a competitive edge. He was tempted to toss her over his shoulder caveman-style. But waiting her out was the better plan, so he dug down deep for the patience to endure the ride.
To take his mind off the rejection, he’d immerse himself in work. A few chimney inspections and fire alarms remained on the list. And a first aid class was coming up. There was plenty of time to get his mind around the Santa role.
Once he did what he had to do, he could do what he wanted to do, which was thumb through the brochure for his custom camper. He hadn’t been this excited since getting the new plow for his truck last year.
And he hadn’t been this excited for a woman in…forever.
The bunkroom was empty most nights, so it was almost like having his own place. But it was
nothing
like his own place since he couldn’t invite a lady over. Not that he had anyone in mind other than Lily, and she wasn’t budging.
A few more weeks and it’ll be here—the ultimate Christmas present he dreamed of since he was a kid. Even more so during the past few years as his mid-life crisis started creeping up early.
But that’s what happens when you’re married at twenty-two and divorced by twenty-four.
What’s worse is stuck in a relationship with your ex-wife because she’s your best buddy’s sister.
Tristan swore he never reported Nick’s business to Claudine, but he
must
. How else did she keep getting his cell phone number every time he changed it? The psycho-bitch popped up on his caller ID but never left a message.
Thank God he didn’t have kids with her.
But they did share a godchild. And for that reason alone, he felt obligated to be civil to her on the few annual occasions they saw each other.
Thinking of bitches…it was laughable that Lily considered herself one. If she only knew Claudine, he bet she’d laugh. too.
Sweet little Lily—she was probably a tiger in bed—Tiger Lily.
He’d felt larger than life, wandering around Brawny’s with her petite frame tucked under his arm. It was hard to control his fantasy of bending that curvaceous
bod
every which way.
Maybe he was the crazy one thinking a nice girl like her would want to date this lonesome loser.
Wait a minute—this lonesome loser’s worth some buku bucks!
Maybe if she knew about his money she’d change her mind. Then again, he didn’t want the bankbook to be the deciding factor in his love life.
She didn’t seem to mind the age-gap, which he anticipated would be the bigger issue.
The only problem appeared to be his job.
But she was just getting to know him. There was still time to tally up his flaws. A recovering alcoholic with an unpredictable ex-wife may be pushing the limits.
Quitting the fire department might make her happy. But what about him? His job made him feel better about himself. He liked helping people. Nothing felt as good as saving a life.
Well, next to making a life.
Making love.
Imagining a tribe of little redheads running around had his wheels turning.
Crossing her path was a wake-up call. Maybe thirty-six wasn’t too late to start a family. Sure, he was older, but he wasn’t
that
old. There were probably a few good swimmers left in his sperm count. If Charlie Chaplin was having kids until he was eighty, then Nick could probably pull one off by forty.
Before he could sway her into making babies, he needed to convince her to go on a date…
It was a shock to be thinking such things after being a devout divorcee for so long.
But it felt good, like he found a new hope for his life. And the funny thing was it had nothing to do with the money.
He didn’t want to mess things up with Lily. A girl like her needed some time. Some wooing. Some coaxing. Some special persuasion. Now that he’d decided he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon he could do things right.
But then he remembered she was.
The conversation about selling her house replayed in his mind.
It was on the market. It was a burden. She wanted to relocate to Manhattan.
Once she sold it, she’d be gone…
An incredible idea curled his toes:
Buy the house and give it to her for Christmas.
It was a perfect plan.
But if it didn’t work and she didn’t fall for it, he could always blame it on Santa Claus.
Chapter Seven
Lily was hungrier than a pilgrim on Thanksgiving. She hadn’t been to the grocery store lately for anything more than bread, milk and eggs, so when she tore through the kitchen it was no surprise to find the cupboards and refrigerator bare.
She could have celebrated with the Barbieris, who put out a feast for every holiday, but she hated feeling like a charity case around their perfectly happy extended family. She skirted the whole scene, blaming it on an imaginary stomach bug, topping off the lie with a fictional fever.
The truth was she felt too crummy to be socially polite, in no mood to put on the happy face and make annoying chitchat.
Thinking of annoying chitchat, luckily, she hadn’t run into Nick in weeks since the night at the farm.
Saying yes to his plentitude of offers had been tempting, and saying no was getting harder. She could have agreed to go out as friends, but with the way her heart rate soared in his presence, being buddies would be tougher than simply going off his radar.
“It’s for the best, right, Ma?” She rolled her eyes to heaven, ignoring the brown water-stained blotches on the ceiling, then glanced at her sickly expression in the bathroom mirror.
Even if Nick’s hazardous occupation weren’t an issue, no doubt, once he got past the basic getting-to-know-you boloney, he’d grow bored. A mature man like that wouldn’t stay interested for long with her quicksand of debt and lifetime of emotional baggage.
What good could come from a single date? Except for wanting another one. And another…
Like he said, he wasn’t setting a wedding date.
Lily snorted at her reflection. “As if.”
No way, no how
, she refused to fall for a firefighter, no matter how much she wanted this one.
The empty pit of her lovesick stomach groaned, encouraging her to throw on some clothes before foraging for food in town. No velour ensembles today as all her good tracksuits were in the dirty laundry pile. Instead, she pulled on some mismatched oversized sweats that doubled as winter pajamas.
Being home alone on the holidays sucked. They were always the hardest days without her folks, and she wondered how many more she’d have to endure. Maybe it was time to revisit the therapist she’d seen after her mother’s accident. Instead of getting better each year, she felt worse.
To counter the grief, she walked. Long walks. Power walks. Meandering strolls. Whatever it takes to clear her mind. If she focused on other things, neutral things like the weather or nature, sometimes she could forget about being so lonely.
All bundled up, Lily headed outside.
It was like stepping into a time machine.
One whiff of pungent chimney smoke reeled her back to her early childhood before life took a nosedive. The familiar fragrance didn’t affect her any other day. Only certain holidays got her so choked up she couldn’t see straight. A fresh fire on Thanksgiving was more memorable than the smell of roasting turkey.
It was probably a good thing the memories with her dad were short and sweet, otherwise she’d have more to miss.
Next to the crooked For Sale sign at the end of the driveway, screaming squirrels scurried around the old maple tree where crows cawed from the canopy of branches. Withered leaves fell like rain, twirling in the breeze, swirling around her decrepit little house. Once a snappy shade of colonial blue with a sharp looking red door, it was now just a faded eyesore.
Her life started falling apart the day her father died. But when did the house start falling apart? Shingles fell off in different places during Hurricane Floyd in 1999. The broken windows were the originals since the 1960s. The irreparable crack in the foundation had been there since God knows when. There wasn’t any way to fix the shack up without tearing it all down first.
Maybe if her father were alive he would’ve taken care of it before it got so bad.
Maybe if her mother hadn’t opened up and over-extended the credit cards using Lily’s name they could’ve afforded the basic repairs.
None of that mattered now as she was too far behind on the mortgage to ever catch up. A buyer better show up soon before the bank foreclosed.
Even more reason to find a new job.
Although the Barbieris depended upon her, they couldn’t pay her any more than what they already were, and tips were slim when business was slow.
She swiped a tear and sucked back the sadness, shaking off the pains of her past.
Walking ought to release enough endorphins to improve her dreary disposition, as ominous as the opaque sky.
Almost everything was closed on Thanksgiving, so her choices were limited to grabbing a bag of beef jerky at the gas station’s mini-mart or daring to go into the dreaded diner. She didn’t like eating alone in public, which worked perfectly because she didn’t have enough cash for the bill, plus a tip.
Studying the Specials posted on the glass door, she debated on ordering something to go. She could eat it at a picnic table in the park.
A man’s thick voice behind her shook her deep contemplation. “Going in or coming out?”
“Sorry.” As Lily jumped aside to free up the doorway, she recognized Nick’s superlative smile beaming like the sun, warming every cell in her body. His nose was rosy, and his quizzical eyes shimmered with moisture as if he’d been in the frigid wind for too long. She bit her tongue to prevent any wild thoughts from rushing past her shivering lips.
“Hey, are you following me?” He winked.
“I, um…” His distinctive musk and cinnamon scent derailed her train of thought. She hid her smile while brushing away an escaped curl tickling her chin. Did her best to contain the butterflies fluttering in her belly.
“
Well
?” Nick cocked his head. “I’m cold and hungry. How about you?” He grimaced, underdressed for the blustery weather in a black leather jacket with a red scarf tucked into the collar. “Care to join me?”
Of course, she wanted to join him but the rapid fire of her treacherous heart made it difficult to breathe, let alone talk, and her feet were too stunned to move.
“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna. But why eat alone when we could eat together? Unless, of course, you’re not here alone.”
“I…I’m not here with anyone.”
“So, how ’bout it?”
Giving her conscience a swift kick into the corner of her crowded mind, Lily hoped her mother wouldn’t be too disappointed. It’s only one meal. Surely Mom wouldn’t want her to eat alone on Thanksgiving.
She fought the urge squeal in delight and released a half-hearted sigh instead. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”
“Really? I don’t wanna twist your arm or anything.”
Guilt tweaked her heart as his wounded eyes touched her soul. “You’re not. It’s just…” She shook her head, debating if this was a bad idea or not. She hated how easily he ruined her confidence with his heartbreaking smile. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“It’s not like a date or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He sounded cautious. Oddly, the more insecure he seemed, the less self-conscious she felt. “You can write it off as two friends bumping into each other at the diner, okay?”