got restless. Like today.
“Nope, not a smidgen,” June replied, mimicking a phrase her father had often used.
Megan fought off a rush of guilt. Her kids should be outside, running in the tall grass and swinging in the park. They were just children, after all. This situation wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. But they still had to cope.
“You will be tired, my little June bug.” Megan brushed her index finger across the tip of her daughter’s nose.
After they’d played in the park, she knew they’d both collapse on the cot she’d set up in the back office. Just in time for another rush of customers wanting their dinner. In the meantime, it was more than difficult to keep an eye on two wriggly children while she was working.
“Why don’t you go in the back and watch TV for a while?” she suggested.
“I don’t want to,” June said.
“Do you want to help me instead?” she asked them, her voice enticing.
“Sure,” Caleb chirped with a ready nod of his head.
Megan swept a jagged thatch of hair back from her son’s forehead. “I’ve got two bags of garbage sitting beside the back door. If you work together, you can carry them outside and throw them into the dump. And after you’ve had your lunch, I told Frank to save a slice of fresh banana cream pie for each of you.”
“Yum!” Caleb gave a little hop and clapped his chubby hands.
June smiled wide, showing a missing tooth in front. “Okay, Mommy. We’ll do it.”
And off they went.
“Cute kids,” the handsome stranger at the counter said.
Megan glanced his way, feeling pleased, but suddenly self-conscious that he’d overheard her entire conversation. “Thanks.”
Swiveling on her flat, practical heels, she faced him. Her gaze dipped to the menu, which he hadn’t touched.
“Thanks, but I don’t need it.” He shook his head, a subtle smile curving the corners of his full mouth.
She slid the menu into the holder at the side of the cash register. Gripping her notepad and pen, she forced herself to meet his dazzling blue eyes.
“So what’ll it be, then?” she asked.
He flashed a magnetic grin. Wow! He had gorgeous blue eyes. Intelligent yet soft, with smile lines at the corners. His sun-bronzed skin told her he liked being outdoors.
“Steak and eggs, cooked medium rare and over easy. Fire potatoes, two griddle cakes and whole wheat toast with plenty of strawberry jam.”
Yep, his order was completely masculine, just like him. Coasting on autopilot, she slid a dish of prepackaged jams close to his hand. She jotted some notes, trying to get his order down before her muddled brain forgot everything.
He gave an infectious laugh. “You sure write fast. Have you got it all? I can repeat it, if you like.”
“Nope, I’ve got it. Anything to drink?” she asked, forcing herself not to look up.
“A tall glass of orange juice, please.”
“Coming right up.” She swiveled around and snapped his order up for Frank.
Forcing herself to keep working, she fled to the kitchen refrigerator to pour him some juice. She returned and had just set the glass in front of him when little Caleb came running in from the alleyway out back. He tugged on her apron and spoke in a shrill voice.
“Hurry, Mommy! Fire! Outside,” the boy cried.
The handsome man sitting at the counter jerked his head up, his eyes widening.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Megan scurried after her son and muttered under her breath. “What could make this day any crazier?”
* * *
The moment Jared Marshall heard the word fire, he was out of his seat. Without a backward glance, he followed Megan Rocklin down the hallway leading to the back door.
Yes, he knew the woman’s name. He was new in town, but Tim Wixler, his assistant fire management officer, had told him what she looked like. Though the description he’d been given didn’t do Megan justice. No, not at all.
Jared had come here specifically to speak to her about a catering job, but he’d never expected her to be so pretty and petite. She had a stubborn chin, pert nose, long strawberry blond hair and warm brown eyes. No, not really brown, but rather a golden amber. With reddish flecks in the center. Yeah, he’d noticed, in spite of her reticence to look at him. And in spite of his desire not to notice.
As he passed through the narrow hallway, he snatched a fire extinguisher off the wall. The screen door clapped closed behind him as he stepped out into the alley. Megan’s daughter was screaming and jumping up and down in absolute panic. Looking at his sister, the little boy followed suit and burst into tears. When Megan saw the flames licking above the top of a metal garbage can, she gasped.
“Where’s the lid? Can anyone find the lid? I’ve got to snuff the fire out,” she cried, searching through the rows of garbage cans lining the outer building.
Without hesitation, Jared pulled the ring on the extinguisher, aimed the nozzle at the trash can and depressed the trigger. A whoosh of white foam hit the flames. Within seconds, the fire was out.
The girl stopped screaming and the boy stopped crying. The two kids huddled next to their mom’s legs and sniffled. The poor little things were scared, and Jared thought that was good. After this experience, he doubted they’d ever play with matches.
“Oh, thank you.” Megan spoke with relief, one hand cradling Caleb’s head next to her thigh, her other hand clasped to her chest.
“You’re welcome.” Jared nodded, conscious of the cook, waitress and several customers from the restaurant coming outside to see what the commotion was about. Their eyes were filled with helpless frustration.
“I wonder what caused the fire,” Megan said.
Jared glanced around the narrow alley. His experienced gaze took in the variety of garbage cans, plastic black bags and a litter of cigarette butts lying in the dirt by the back door.
He pointed at the butts. “I suspect that’s your culprit. Someone could have tossed a hot cigarette into the garbage can and it ignited.”
“Of course. But how did you know what to do?” Megan asked. “You were so quick to react. It would have taken me several more minutes to remember the fire extinguisher. In all these years, I’ve never had to use it.”
He shrugged. “It’s what I do. I’m glad to help.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean? What do you do?”
“I’m the new fire management officer at the Forest Service office in town. Normally I’d be wearing my Forest Service uniform, but I’m off duty today.”
Her face flushed a deep red. A cloud of doubt veiled her expressive eyes. “Oh. You’re a firefighter.”
It wasn’t a question. She said it as if it was something to be abhorred.
“So, you’re the new FMO.” Connie stepped forward and shook his hand. “We haven’t met yet, but you work with my husband, Tim Wixler.”
Jared smiled with recognition. “Sure. Tim’s a great guy. I’m glad to have him as my assistant FMO.”
“But you fight wildfires,” Megan said again, as though she couldn’t believe it.
He nodded. “Yes, or rather, I used to. Now, I just organize the people and equipment for fighting fires on the Minoa National Forest. Although I’m also the newest member of the voluntary fire department here in town.” He smiled, a frisson of pride filling his chest.