of him, her eyes shining. “Hi, Bryce.”
Lisa didn’t want CeCe getting too friendly with the intrusive firefighter, even if this was just a onetime visit.
“Mr. Walker,” she corrected.
A little of the sunlight in CeCe’s eyes abated. Bryce was quick to wave Lisa’s admonishment aside. Too many children called him by his first name for CeCe to be singled out this way.
“That’s too much of a mouthful for someone her size, Lisa. Bryce is fine.”
Lisa didn’t like him calling her by her first name. It made this conversation entirely too personal. Besides, she had the feeling that he was conveying more to her than just a name preference when he said that Bryce was fine, but there was no way she was about to allow herself to be drawn into any sort of wordplay over that.
In the larger scheme of things, it was all a moot point. It wasn’t as if the man was going to be someone they interacted with on a regular basis. As soon as she managed to usher him on his way, she didn’t expect to ever see Bryce Walker again, barring a fire somewhere in the immediate area.
But before she could say anything, her mother was taking charge of the situation.
“Well, then, Bryce,” Cecilia said, smiling at him, “we were just about to sit down to dinner. Perhaps you will join us?”
For a second, the air left her lungs. Lisa felt completely outflanked. She knew from experience that sending her mother a glaring look would be utterly wasted on the woman, so she didn’t even bother—as much as she wanted to.
Instead she drew herself up and sent the withering look in Bryce’s direction. The last thing she needed at the tail end of a trying day was an invasion by an unwanted guest, no matter how handsome he was.
“I’m sure Mr. Walker has to be somewhere else, Mother.”
He returned the withering look with a long, slow appraisal that started at the top of her head and wound its way down to her bare toes. Lisa felt as if she suddenly had nothing on and felt all the hotter for it.
“No,” he assured her quietly, “as a matter of fact, I don’t.”
Triumphant, Cecilia hooked her arm through Bryce’s. She looked back at her daughter. “See?”
A thread of satisfaction wound through her words that she didn’t bother to hide. As far as Cecilia was concerned, Lisa had been hiding behind her work and her family in an effort to barricade herself away from the rest of the world and deny the fact that she had a heart that could still be hurt. If nothing was risked, nothing was gained.
Cecilia glanced at the broom Bryce was still holding. “By the way, what is all this you bring with you?”
“Yes,” Lisa seconded the question, her eyes sweeping over the bag he held in his other hand. “Just why are you dragging a broom around? Are you moonlighting as a broom salesman?” Maybe if she insulted him, he’d go away.
But instead of being insulted, he flashed a grin at her. “You and your mother think alike.”
Not hardly, Lisa thought, swallowing a groan. To her surprise, he presented the broom to her.
“It’s for you. A housewarming gift,” he explained when she only stared at it.
She raised her eyes to his face, wondering what he was up to. “I already have a broom. And a vacuum cleaner,” she added, in case he had one waiting in his car.
“Lisa, if the man wants to give you a broom, you must be polite and take it,” Cecilia told her kindly, taking the broom from Bryce as if he had just presented her with the crown jewels of England.
Bryce couldn’t read Lisa’s expression, but he figured he could take a calculated guess what was going on in her mind. Being a firefighter made him sensitive to highly volatile situations.
Time to defuse the moment, he thought. “Actually it’s an old tradition.” Lisa looked at him blankly. “The broom’s symbolic,” he told her. “You give someone moving into a new home a broom to sweep away any evil spirits that might still be lurking around, left over from the old tenants. And the loaf of bread—” he handed the bag he’d brought to Lisa “—is so that you never go hungry.”
She vaguely remembered hearing or reading about the tradition. But Bryce didn’t strike her as the kind of person who went in for old-fashioned customs. Looking at him uncertainly, she glanced inside the bag. It was a loaf of bread all right. Closing it, she looked at the bouquet he was still holding.
“And the flowers? What are they for?”
This part was a last-minute inspiration. As her mother watched approvingly, he offered the flowers to Lisa with a flourish. “To make you smile.”
“Oh.” It was a simple bouquet of daisies, but it left her flustered and at a loss for words. Her mouth curved slightly without her even realizing it as she accepted the bouquet and looked down at the clustered, bouncy petals. Daisies, to pick apart one by one, murmuring “he loves me, he loves me not.” “I see.”
“It works!” CeCe announced with enthusiasm, grinning broadly. Then the grin began to fade away as she looked skeptically at the broom her grandmother was holding. She lowered her voice in a hushed whisper, inclining her head toward Bryce. “Does that mean we have evil spirits to sweep away?”
He saw the beginning of fear in her eyes. He’d meant to charm the mother, not frighten the daughter.
“They’re all gone already,” he told her solemnly. “It’s the fire department’s job to send any evil spirits packing a whole month before anyone new moves in. This—” he tapped the handle with his finger “—is just to remind them to stay away. Forever.”
“Oh.” Relieved, CeCe released a sigh that seemed twice as large as she was.
“Hey, I almost forgot. This is for you.” With a gesture every bit as grand as the flourish he’d used to present the flowers to Lisa, he awarded the coloring book he had tucked under his arm to CeCe. “It’s all about different fire trucks.” He winked at her. “Something the department keeps around for Bedford’s future taxpayers.”
She hugged the thin booklet to her, pleased to be remembered. “Mommy, where are my crayons?”
“We’ll find them after dinner.” Otherwise, Lisa knew that there would be no prying CeCe away from the coloring book until she was finished.
It suddenly occurred to Bryce that he hadn’t brought anything to give Lisa’s mother. Admittedly, the woman had not been on his mind when he was planning his strategy. He turned to her now a tad sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t bring anything for you.”
“Oh, but you did, Bryce,” Cecilia replied with a soft smile he could only wish would grace her daughter’s lips. The smile filtered into her eyes, putting him completely at ease. “You brought me your company. Now, how do you feel about pierogi?”
Unfamiliar with the word, he could only shake his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have any feelings about it one way or another.”
“You will,” Cecilia promised, patting his arm. “In time.”
