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He is close enough for me to get a whiff of an aggravatingly pleasant masculine scent. I want to tell him to go to hell, but there’s no point in struggling here any longer.
“Thank you,” I force out.
“You hold the door, I’ll grab your little cart thing,” he says in a voice that’s used to giving orders.
This is the future generation’s love of reading I’ve got here! I want to yell at him, but fortunately for my reputation as a sane person, I don’t.
Instead, I obey, propping open the door while he pulls the cart over the threshold with seemingly no effort at all.
“Thanks,” I mutter again. I reach for the cart, but he doesn’t relinquish it.
“I can take it for you. Where’re we headed?”
“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” I insist, reaching for it again, but he shakes his head.
“I see a lady in distress, I just gotta help. It’s in my nature.” His smile is broad and friendly, but the twinkle in his eyes tells me he knows he’s pissing me off. “You look like you’ve got your hands full as it is,” he adds with patronizing kindness and a pointed look at my purse.
I adjust the strap over my shoulder and hope I look dignified. “Mrs. Redmond’s fourth-grade class, room nine.”
He spins the ungainly cart in the right direction and begins taking long strides down the hallway. His enormous boots thud gently against the linoleum while my high heels make a nervous clattering sound as I try to keep up with him.
“Was there a fire?” I ask.
He looks down at me and laughs heartily. “No. I was just doing a fire safety demonstration for the morning assembly.”
“The Friday all-school meeting,” I correct him. I’m honestly just making conversation, but as soon as the words are out of my mouth I realize how pedantic I sound. More heat rises to my cheeks.
He raises his eyebrows in what might be respect but is more probably mockery. “You know this school pretty well,” he says.
“I went here,” I tell him.
He looks me up and down, a funny look on his face. “Huh. You don’t look like the kids here.”
“That’s because I’m twenty-eight,” I point out, even though I think he’s actually saying that I don’t look as working-class as most of the kids.
“That’s not what I—What’s with all the books?”
“Oh, reading books is my idea of hard work.” I smile. “So, here I am, working hard.” He arches one eyebrow, and I decide to take the snippiness down a notch. “I read to a different class each week, and I bring in a bunch of books for their teachers to check out. The fourth graders were on a field trip last week, and this is my last visit before summer vacation, so this week I’ve got two classes and double the number of books.” I’m starting to ramble and I clamp my lips together firmly.
“Ah.” The Chief nods, looking satisfied with this unnecessarily detailed answer.
We pull up to Mrs. Redmond’s door, and I knock gently then take back the handle of the trolley. “Well, thank you for your help.”
I’m hoping he’ll just tip his big helmet at me and walk away but instead, he just stands there as Mrs. Redmond opens the door.
“Come in, Blaze!” She turns back to the fire chief with a huge smile. Even Mrs. Redmond, who’s old enough to have been my fourth-grade teacher, looks smitten. She shakes his hand. “Chief Wainwright! I’m Martha Redmond. We enjoyed your presentation at the all-school meeting this morning. Are you staying for Miss Wilder’s storytime?”
He gives her that big, friendly smile. “Well, I’d love to, ma’am.” He looks at me innocently. “If that’s okay with you, of course?”
The smile on my face gets so tight it hurts. The last thing I need is Mr. Muscle-Head staring at me while I read Warriors: Into the Wild to a bunch of fourth graders, but I’m aware of a buzz of excitement from the class. Kids are craning their necks trying to get a look at the chief—and I know they’re looking at him; they enjoy my storytimes, but they never get this excited about me.
Part of me wants to tell him to go to hell; I don’t need him disrupting my storytime. But the other part of me can’t bear to disappoint the kids.
“Of course,” I say through clenched jaws.
He grabs the trolley back, makes a sweeping gesture with his arm for me to go ahead of him, then follows me into the class.
Mrs. Redmond claps her hands. “Class, can you say good morning to Miss Wilder and Chief Wainwright?”
