A Firefighter's Promise. Patricia Johns

that would betray his manly ways. Rachel stepped inside and shivered. Her hair dripped, the previously smooth waves springing up into sodden curls.

      She has curly hair.

      He wasn’t sure why this discovery made him smile, but it did.

      Rachel looked down at the puddle she’d made on the floor. Her jeans were dark with rain and goose bumps prickled across her arms.

      “I’m making a mess,” she said.

      “No more than I am,” he replied. His uniform clung to his arms and legs, a steady trickle of water meandering down his back. “Tell you what. If it wouldn’t be too awkward, let me give you some of my clothes to wear while we toss yours into the dryer.”

      She contemplated for a moment, then nodded. “I don’t see a way around it. I’m drenched.”

      While Rachel changed behind the locked bathroom door, Matt grabbed a fresh T-shirt and a pair of jeans for himself out of his dresser drawer. He changed quickly, tossing his wet clothes into a hamper on his way out of the bedroom, and headed toward the kitchen.

      Matt grabbed the filters and coffee grounds from the cupboard, feeling more cheerful than he had felt in a while. Outside the kitchen window, the rain came down in sheets, trees heaving with the gusts of wind. His patio chairs rattled in the wind and collected pools of water on the seats, and he paused to watch the low, boiling clouds.

      It didn’t matter where you went in Montana, the sky remained the same. The same summer storms swept over the state, and he couldn’t help wondering if South Maitland would be different enough to drown his memories.

      “I found your dryer myself. I hope you don’t mind.”

      Matt turned from the coffeemaker to find Rachel in the kitchen doorway, dwarfed in one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. Soft wisps of hair began to dry around her cheeks and spiraled into silky curls. She held up the pants with one hand and sank into a kitchen chair.

      “I’ve never felt less put together.” She laughed.

      “All you need is coffee,” he replied with a grin. “How do you take it?”

      “Cream and sugar.”

      The coffeemaker sputtered soothingly in the background. Her gaze wandered around the kitchen, sliding over his black stove and dark cupboards and stopping at his fridge.

      “Aha,” she said, a triumphant smile coming to her lips. “Finally something personal.”

      She crossed the kitchen and perused the photos that were stuck there with various magnets.

      “Who’s this?” she asked, pointing at a wedding photo.

      “My brother, Craig, and his new wife, Gloria.”

      He glanced over her shoulder at the familiar photo. Craig was pulling Gloria close against him, and her head was tilting down to his shoulder. They both beamed into the camera. Matt stood next to his brother in an “at ease” stance, and the maid of honor stood in a pinkish-orange dress, her flowers clutched in front of her. Matt remembered the happiness of that afternoon. Craig and Gloria could have gotten married in a mud puddle and it wouldn’t have dampened their spirits.

      “You make a very dapper best man.” She shot him a smile. “It looks like a beautiful wedding.”

      “He tried to get out of it,” he said with a short laugh.

      “You’re kidding.” She cast him a surprised glance.

      “The morning of the wedding, he told me he was leaving town. So I did the only thing I could.”

      “Called the bride?” Rachel asked.

      “Duct-taped him to a kitchen chair and talked some sense into him.”

      Rachel burst out laughing. “That’s an interesting solution.”

      “I knew he didn’t mean it. He was just panicking. The same way he panicked before taking Tina Beuller to the prom...the same way he panicked before going to Yale. He’s that kind of guy.”

      “So obviously you talked him back into the wedding,” she said, her attention moving back to the picture.

      “Yeah. It didn’t take more than about ten minutes. I got him to the church on time. Never did get all the tape off his tux, though.”

      “Sounds like you’ve got an interesting relationship,” she commented.

      “You could say that.”

      He and Craig had been rivals for most of their lives. From high school grades to girls they dated, the brothers had been neck and neck. And then they’d gone their separate ways. Matt started his firefighter training and Craig headed off to Yale Law School. Their rivalry got complicated then.

      “But you’re close?” Rachel asked, pulling him back to the present.

      “Yeah, we have each other’s backs.” He shrugged. “He’s blessed. He’s got a good woman there.”

      “She’s pretty.”

      “Yeah, but it’s more than that. She understands him, and after totally figuring him out, she still wanted to marry him.”

      Rachel smiled. “Sounds like he had you working for that marriage, too.”

      “Gloria is intent on returning the favor and finding me a wife. She’s the matchmaking type.”

      The coffee stopped sputtering and Matt turned back to the counter to pour coffee. He grabbed two mugs, both with fire-station logos across the side. He glanced back to find her still entranced by the information on his fridge. He shook his head wryly. Most people preferred to admire his backyard or the kitchen renovations, but Rachel was different.

      “Who’s this?” she asked, pointing to another photo. “Your parents?”

      “That’s them. They’re retired in Arizona now.”

      “They look nice...”

      “What about your parents?” he asked.

      “They both passed away,” she replied. “My aunt is the closest family I’ve got.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that.”

      She didn’t answer but slowly turned away from the refrigerator and accepted the hot mug of taupe coffee with a smile of thanks. She took a slow sip, her long lashes brushing her cheeks as she closed her eyes in a sigh of contentment.