Safe in the Fireman's Arms

“That’s a little hard to say. At least three weeks. I’m managing the shop while my Uncle Bob is fishing.”

“Fly-fishing. Best time of year. Spring runoff. We’re really going to be slammed with tourists when tournament registration begins.”

“Tournament?”

“Fishing tournament on the Rio Grande.”

“I imagine that’s good for the economy,” she said.

“It is.” He nodded. “Then back to Denver?”

“What?” She cocked her head.

“Then you’ll be heading back to Denver?”

“Is this for your report, as well?”

“Just being neighborly, ma’am.”

Ma’am? The cockles of her heart were officially rankled. “I don’t know what I’ll be doing in three weeks, Chief MacLaughlin. Praying about what I want to be when I grow up, I imagine.”

He blinked and froze. Then he began to laugh, a deep, rich sound that took Maggie by surprise. His eyes did crinkle at the corners as she suspected they would, making his face open up with even more masculine appeal.

Charming. That was the first word that popped into her head. Yes. He was charming. Far too charming for her own good.

“I was being serious,” she finally said. More serious than he would ever understand.

“I’ll bet you were.” Chief MacLaughlin grabbed his helmet and gave her a short salute. “Pleasure to meet you, Maggie Jones. Stay safe.”

“Ah, um, yes. Thank you,” Maggie said, her face heating at the sound of her name on his lips.

Her gaze followed him out to the street, where he climbed into the passenger side of the truck, his movements lithe and easy, despite the heavy layers of gear.

The fire engine’s horn sounded before the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

Maggie shook her head, willing herself out of the daze that had wrapped itself around her.

“I’m simply going to have to stay out of his way,” she murmured. “Because Jake MacLaughlin is an exceptionally dangerous man.”

* * *

“Attention, shoppers. We’re serving free coffee and carrot-cake muffins with lemon icing from Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery at the front of the store.”

Jake looked up from the paperwork on his desk as the announcement blared over the hardware-store loudspeaker.

What’s he up to now? Ever since he’d semiretired, Jake’s father spent his extra time divided between his newly self-appointed roles as marketing director for the store and head of Jake’s nonexistent reelection committee. Jacob “Mack” MacLaughlin Senior was oblivious to the fact that Paradise Hardware was the only hardware store in Paradise. There was no competition.

Jake set aside the monthly inventory folder and shoved back his chair. Taking long strides through the aisles he followed the scent of fresh coffee.

“Nice picture, Jake.”

“Huh?” Jake turned.

At the end of aisle one, near the cash register, several customers were gathered around the Paradise Gazette as they munched their muffins.

One of the regulars shoved the front page of the paper at Jake. Smack-dab in the middle was a photo of him in turnout gear standing next to Maggie Jones.

She looked like she’d taken a bite out of something sour.

Great. Just great. It had been pretty obvious yesterday that she wasn’t in awe of the truck or the uniform like most of the women in town. He could almost feel her glare from the two blocks that separated the hardware store and the fix-it shop. Somehow the photo op would turn out to be his fault, adding fuel to her ire. The woman didn’t like him. Of that, Jake was certain. Why that bothered him, he didn’t know, but it did.

His father clapped him on the back. “Nice picture, huh?”

“Dad, how did they get this picture?”

Ever happy-go-lucky, Mack grinned and ran a hand through his thick, silver hair. “Me. I took it through the window of Bob’s shop. Told you that photography class would come in handy. Great publicity, huh? The election is coming up, after all.”

“I’m running unopposed.”

“No matter. This will hit home with the voters. You’re a hero, Jacob.”

“Burned eggs, Dad. It was a 10-35. Unnecessary alarm system activation.”

“Who’s that in the picture with you?” Mack asked.

“Maggie Jones. You’ll note that she doesn’t look real happy.”

Mack narrowed his eyes and pulled the paper close to his bifocals. “Can’t hardly see her face. Bob’s niece, right?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s a smart one, that girl. I brought that broken reel of mine to her and she figured out what was wrong with it before I even left the shop. You know, the one you’ve been working on?”

Jake gave a tight nod.

“I heard from Duffy that you two really hit it off.”

“Duffy said that?”

“Said it sure took you a long time to get her statement.”

Jake folded up the newspaper. “Don’t listen to Duffy, Dad. He’s a troublemaker.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“Not anymore.” Jake handed his father the paper.

Mack laughed and shot a glance at the big, stainless-steel wall clock. “Hey, I nearly forgot. Bitsy Harmony called. She said to remind you that you’ve got an appointment at the photographer’s.”