Safe in the Fireman's Arms

“It’s not mine. It’s Uncle Bob’s shop truck.” Maggie sighed. “Fortunately, I have a perfectly good bicycle that my aunt and uncle have kept for me since my last visit.”

“Your last visit? When was that?”

“I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” He stared at her. “You don’t own a vehicle?”

“I left my car in Denver. It belongs to my parents. So you can see that the chances of another engine fire are pretty much nil.”

“How did you get to Paradise?” he asked.

“Cab.”

“You’re joking, right? A cab all the way from Denver? That’s like three and a half hours.”

She stood straight and balled her small hands into fists. “Look, for your information, I was in a bit of rush when I left and there aren’t any buses to Paradise.”

“Whoa there. No need to get all excited.”

Maggie released a breath and continued to stare him down.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” he murmured.

Her cheeks flushed. She chewed on a ragged thumbnail and glanced around. “No. Of course not.”

“You’re sure? You can tell me, you know.”

Maggie began to laugh. “What are you saying? You won’t think any less of me if I confide that I’m a convict on the lam? Gee, thanks. Chief.”

Somehow her laugh didn’t quite ring true.

“I guess you’re entitled to your secrets,” he returned.

“I don’t have any secrets. My life is an open, albeit very short, book. A novella at best.”

Overhead thunder clapped.

Maggie jumped. She glanced at the sky and then looked toward the gutters on the cottage. “Too bad. I was hoping to get a permit to install a rainwater-harvesting system before it rained.”

“Oh, there will be plenty more rain days in the valley.” He paused. “A permit, huh? That sounds like someone who’s thinking about sticking around.”

She pondered his words for a moment. “Maybe.”

Suddenly the sky opened up, releasing giant drops that quickly turned into a deluge.

“I better get going.” Jake tossed his keys into the air.

Maggie touched his arm, and he glanced down, surprised to see her delicate hand on his sleeve.

“This is a downpour, Jake. Can’t you wait until it eases up?”

His brows rose at the concern on her face. “Are you worried about me?”

“I’m speaking as a soil professional. It’s very dangerous to drive through a downpour in a region indigenous to flash flooding and mudslides.” Her soft brown eyes pleaded with him. “And I know from experience that you don’t do dangerous, Chief MacLaughlin,” she murmured.

Jack met her unwavering gaze. She was right on both counts. Standing this close to Maggie, surrounded by an intimate curtain of rain, was dangerous all right. Much too dangerous.

He lifted the collar of his shirt. “I’ll be fine,” he said as he stepped from the porch and straight into the cooling rain.

* * *

“Chuck, I’m telling you the woman is hiding something.”

The black-and-white collie-shepherd mix opted not to answer, nor did he look up from the metal bowl, where his nose was buried in his dinner.

“We’re going to have to ask Sheriff Lawson to run a background check on Maggie Jones. And while Sam is checking, we’ll do a little online search of our own, as well.”

Chuck finally looked up, his black eyes round and questioning.

“Oh, don’t give me that. It’s just a simple precaution. She took a cab from Denver, Chuck. Who does that?”

Rain continued to tap at the window as Jake stirred the simmering Buffalo chili and then replaced the lid on the pot and turned down the flame. He grabbed a sponge and wiped down the stainless steel stove top before sliding cornbread muffins into the oven and setting the timer.

Almost time to eat. It would have been nice to share dinner with someone besides his dog.

For a moment his mind flitted back to Maggie. He quickly dismissed the concerned expression he’d seen on her face as he left her house.

Long ago, he’d resolved himself to being alone. Once a month his solitary life was interrupted when he met his men at the firehouse for training and they put together a meal. Occasionally his father dropped in unannounced, too. Oddly enough, Mack hadn’t done much of that in the last few months.

A loud rhythmic series of raps on the back door signaled tonight was one of those visits from his father. Jake smiled as Chuck raced to the door and shoved his whiskers into the screen, whining.

“Jacob,” his father called as he pushed the door open. “Quite a storm out there. Hope it stops before the weekend.” He shrugged off his yellow rain slicker and ran a hand through his damp hair.

“Hey, Dad. You smelled the chili all the way from your place, huh?”

“Are you cooking?” Mack leaned down and gave Chuck a rubdown. “Yeah, boy, I’ve missed you, too.”

“There’s chili in the pot.”

Mack stood and looked around. “Oh, I guess you are. But that’s not why I’m here. I want to run something by you.”

“Sure. Have a seat and maybe Chuck and I can help you with your problem.”