All Summer Long

Twenty minutes later, he finished with a request for the three small zoning permits.

“Impressive,” Mayor Marsha told him. She smiled warmly. “We all appreciate how you’ve taken the town’s needs into account as you’ve written your business plan. I believe there are several local business owners who would like to hear about this. They might have some helpful ideas for you.”

“That would be great.”

“You’ll be settling here permanently?” she asked, her blue gaze steady.

“That’s the plan.”

“We’re not exactly New York.”

Something Charlie had mentioned. “I’m ready for a change.”

“You know,” Gladys said, her wrinkled face bright with amusement, “if you really want to help the town, I know a way.”

“Don’t,” Mayor Marsha said, her tone warning.

Gladys ignored her. “You could loan your butt to a campaign we’re planning.”

“Stop it right now,” the mayor said forcefully. “That’s not what we’re here to talk about.”

“He’s got a famous butt. I’ve seen it in the movies. We all have. Work with your strengths, I say.”

Clay was used to faking any expression a client wanted. It was why he’d become so successful. Now he made sure he looked amused rather than angry and uncomfortable.

Gladys slapped a tabloid magazine on the table. The headline was clearly visible. Famous Model Insures Butt for Five Million Dollars.

“Why waste money on something like a Haycation when you only have to flash the real deal to make a mint?” she asked.

The mayor winced. “Clay, I’m so sorry. There was some discussion about asking you to be in our campaign.” She glared at Gladys. “We were going to use your face, however.”

“A waste of resources if you ask me,” Gladys mumbled. “Everybody would rather see his ass.”

CHAPTER THREE

CLAY TOSSED HIS computer case into the passenger seat of the truck, then started the engine. But instead of driving away, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and told himself not to take it personally. He’d been a model for a lot of years. He understood being talked about like an object rather than a person. He’d had his appearance dissected a thousand times before. He’d been told he was too tall, too short, too big, too small, too young, too old, too handsome, not handsome enough. When a client wanted a “look,” he either had it or he didn’t.

He’d made millions, he’d gotten an education, he’d invested well and he’d moved on. Now he was ready for act two. The problem seemed to be escaping what he’d been in act one. He hadn’t expected to be blindsided by a bunch of old ladies.

“Hell,” he grumbled under his breath, not sure what to do with the frustration boiling inside of him. He didn’t want to go back to the ranch. Putting his fist through a wall would create other problems. Finally he put the truck in gear and drove out of the parking lot.

Five minutes later he pulled into Fool’s Gold Fire Station number one. He could see into the engine bay. The aid car and engine were gone, out on a call. As he watched the Quint—an all-purpose vehicle with a pump, a water tank and various ladders—started up. Seconds later, it pulled out, sirens blaring.

Clay followed, staying back far enough not to get in the way. He stopped at a light and watched the Quint turn into what he remembered as one of the older residential areas. When the signal turned green, he went north, and then east. Two blocks later, he could see smoke rising. As he approached the scene, he pulled over and parked.

A crowd had already collected. Clay joined them, watching several firefighters finishing up what looked like a garage fire. Hoses lay across the driveway. White smoke and steam escaped through the open garage door.

He studied the various firefighters. They wore turnout pants and jackets, and helmets. He was able to pick out Charlie right away. She was one of the tallest firefighters, but he also recognized her confident stride and the way she took charge.

On the other side of the driveway, a mother stood with two boys. They were watching anxiously and Clay figured they owned the house. He wondered if one of the kids had started the fire. If so, someone was going to be in big trouble.

Charlie and her captain approached the family. The woman listened intently. Suddenly her body relaxed and she smiled, nodding. Good news, he thought. A sedan pulled up at the curb and a man jumped out. He rushed to the woman and kids and drew them against him.

The cleanup went faster than he would have expected. Hoses were rolled and stowed, equipment picked up. Charlie continued to talk to the family. Finally she shook hands with everyone, had a word with one of the kids and started toward the engine.

Clay stayed back with the dwindling crowd as he considered what he’d seen. The idea of doing this—helping where it was really needed—appealed to him. He wanted to come in, make a difference, then disappear. Let the folks get on with their lives and forget he was ever there. He wasn’t interested in being a hero. He wanted to get the job done.

Charlie and her captain walked toward the engine. The captain spotted him, said something to Charlie, then approached.

“You must be Clay Stryker,” she said, holding out her right hand. She held her red helmet in her left. “I’m Olivia Fargo. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

They shook hands.

Olivia was probably pushing forty, with short red hair and blue eyes. She was tall, nearly as tall as Charlie, and had a no-nonsense air about her.

“I hear you’re thinking about becoming a volunteer firefighter,” Olivia said.

“I’m going to be putting in my application later today.”

“There’s a class starting soon.”

“I heard.”

She looked him over. “It’s a lot of work. You might find the training too time consuming.”

“I’m committed to doing what it takes.”

“You really want to help out?” she asked.

He had a feeling he didn’t like where the conversation was going to go, but nodded anyway.

“We’re always short on money,” she said. “We do a big fund-raiser for new equipment. The extras the town can’t afford to provide.” Olivia smiled. “We were thinking of a calendar this year. You could be in it. That would help a whole lot more. A lot of people can volunteer. Not that many have your...” She paused. “Natural talents.”

* * *

CHARLIE STOOD BY the engine, waiting on Olivia. She could hear everything being said. Nothing about Clay’s expression changed, but she would swear he wasn’t happy. Not about Olivia’s comments or the request he do the calendar. From their brief conversation the other day, she knew he was ready to put his old life behind him...so to speak. But there was a long road from being a model to wanting to put his life, and perfect ass, on the line fighting fires. Why would a guy like him want to take the risk?

There was only one way to find out, she reminded herself. That was to ask the question.

She walked over to the two of them. Olivia glanced at her. “I was telling Clay about the calendar. I don’t think he’s convinced.”

Clay’s dark eyes gave nothing away, but she felt the tension in his body.

Olivia pointed at the Quint. “You left a nozzle,” she said. She turned back to Charlie. “Give me five?”

“Sure.” Charlie waited until she was out of earshot. “I take it the calendar isn’t your dream job.”