The Firefighter to Heal Her Heart. Annie O'Neil
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“Sorry, I’ve got an appointment to get to.” Liar.
She took another glance at her invisible watch. She’d already made enough of a fool of herself.
“Fair enough, but don’t think I’m going to give up easily.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. Give up on what exactly?
“This is a small town and come fire season we genuinely could do with all the help we can get.”
Aha. He’s still recruiting. Wrong bark, wrong tree, mate.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I just wouldn’t have much to offer in the way of free time.”
He carried on as if she hadn’t said a word. “Not to mention the fact I’ve only been in town a few weeks and haven’t yet found the perfect chocolate milk shake in the area. I’m on a quest. Care to join me?”
Oh. Well, that was quite a different suggestion. Although just as dangerous, given that it meant spending time alone with Jack Keller.
“That sounds like a laudable quest, Captain Keller—”
“Jack.”
“Jack.” She said the name deliberately before continuing, “I’d really like to help, but—”
“Great. That’s settled, then. Things are pretty hectic over at the station for the rest of the week and I’ve got to get down to Adelaide for a weekend’s training session—sometime next week?”
“Sure.”
The word leaped past her lips before she’d had a chance to rein it in. Hadn’t she just told herself that time spent with Jack Keller was a bad idea?
Jack was still grinning as he lifted the last bits of gear into the station truck. He was feeling remarkably cheery. And a little bit guilty. He was pleased his made-up quest for the perfect chocolate milk shake had worked in convincing Liesel to go out with him. That was a white lie he could live with. The one giving his gut a good kicking was the part about being new in town. Technically, it was true. He was new in town if you discounted the first twenty-five years of his life. If you forgot about those and just focused on the past four he’d been away and the man he’d become during those years … then, yes, technically he was new in town.
He was focused. Driven. Making a decision to be a full-timer for the CFS had added the sorely needed rod to his spine. Gone were the days of the noncommitted heir to River’s Bend. His father no longer had to put up with experimental fields of hops for a microbrew, escapee pigs destined for air-dried sausage or a pair of Clydesdale horses clearly not meant for work in the forty-degree heat. All well-intentioned ideas with no real follow-through. Now his life was about tangible results. A new Jack Keller was definitely in town.
He coasted down the school drive and pulled out onto the highway, doing his best to surrender his doubts to the beautiful afternoon.
Nope. It was no good.
Everything was too familiar. The road, the tiny cluster of shops, who ran them, the clumps of gum and eucalyptus trees shading this house or that. If he was going to see Liesel again, he was going to have to come clean—at some point.
Truth be told, it would be nice to date someone who didn’t have a clue about his history. Someone who just liked plain ol’ Jack the fireman.
He gave a little snort. Date! He hadn’t dated anyone properly in years. Girls in Engleton had always had their eye on the River’s Bend prize, while in Adelaide during training there just hadn’t been enough time. Or just not the right women. Or maybe for once he just wanted to see something through and prove to his father he had it in him to talk the walk. Or walk the talk. Or whatever that saying was.
Liesel definitely had something that spoke to him. Too bad the timing was shambolic.
He pulled the truck into the station-house drive, smiling at the sight of a couple of volunteers washing down one of the big rigs. It had just received a whopper of an upgrade thanks to a ten-grand anonymous donation. All of the guys had sworn ignorance and he believed them. They had an angel out there and he, for one, was grateful. The volunteers were great guys. He was just getting to know them, but already they had him knee-deep in barbecue invitations and bursting with ideas for fundraising drives.
They’d make a success of this station. He was sure of it. The big guns over in Adelaide had given him a year to turn around the waning number of volunteers and poor track record on incident attendance. It would mean a lot of hard work, being on call 24/7 and his 100 percent dedication. He pressed his lips together as if to strengthen his resolve and scrubbed a hand through his hair.
He’d been kidding himself back at the school. He barely had time to grab a meal for himself, let alone complicate his life with a milk shake quest and a beautiful woman.
Short, sharp shock it was, then. Who was going to feel the pain the most, though, was up in the air.
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