Suddenly I have so many questions I want to ask. Does he sleep here every night, or does he have a home he gets to visit occasionally? Is there a reason he chose to be a firefighter in his hometown? Does he secretly want to leave Charming Lake behind and join Boston Fire or some other city’s larger and presumably more exciting department?
Does he have a wife? A girlfriend? Kids?
“I’ll get started on this right away,” I say quickly, before I can go down that conversational road. “Thanks for this information, and I can see myself out.”
“Careful on the stairs,” he calls after me.
It’s hard to make a quick or graceful exit when navigating ancient barn boards in heels, but I make it to the bottom without humiliating—or hurting—myself. And then I force myself to walk across the cement floor to the exit door without looking back to see if Rob’s watching me through that window.
Chapter
Four
Rob
I stand in front of the table in my office, looking through the massive sheet of safety glass that lets me watch over the equipment bay. Right now I’m watching Whitney Forrester walk toward the door and listening to her heels click on the cement floor.
She walks as if she runs the entire world, which I didn’t realize is something I find sexy until right now.
If only she wasn’t my brother-in-law’s assistant—and presumably an employee Donovan values if he brought her here to Charming Lake.
And then there’s her attitude. Whitney’s clearly a city girl who wants nothing to do with our town, our celebration, or even the holiday in general. She’s all business and that’s definitely not my vibe.
I snort, turning away from the window as the door closes behind Whitney. I don’t think I evenhavea vibe anymore. The fire department, my family, and our community take up all of my time and energy. Over the last couple of years, I’ve lost interestin casual dating and hookups, but it’s hard to make space in my life for finding a woman I can share a future with.
That’s definitely not Ms. Scrooge with the leather satchel and snappy heels. She made it pretty clear she wouldn’t darken Charming Lake’s doorstep if Donovan hadn’t given her the assignment. Any effort she put in would be to please her boss and not from a sense of community or holiday spirit. Granted, it’s nothercommunity, but she could pretend, at least.
I wait long enough for Whitney to have settled in her car and driven away before grabbing what I need and hitting the button to raise the overhead door. There’s a pickup sitting in my driveway at home, but I usually drive the red SUV I was issued when I became the fire chief because it has the lights and sirens and equipment I need to respond from anywhere.
The drive to my sister’s house involves returning the waves of almost every local I pass, either on the road or on the sidewalk, but eventually I turn onto the road that follows the lakeshore. About a mile down on the left is the house Donovan and Natalie bought and renovated.
I thought, when they bought it, Donovan would tear down the three-bedroom Cape that had been in that spot for a century and replace it with some glass and steel monstrosity. But he’d kept the original bones and lines on the exterior, other than larger windows, and stuck to cosmetic work. They’d gutted the inside, though, updating pretty much everything. But driving by and seeing the old historic lakefront property so lovingly restored was one of the reasons I’d decided Donovan Wilson wasn’t so bad for a rich guy.
When he’s not being a pain in my ass, of course.
I’m not surprised when he opens the door before I’ve even touched the doorbell. One, it might be discreet, but a top-notch security system was one of the upgrades. And two, when a manhas a rambunctious child and a very pregnant wife, he doesn’t let the doorbell ring.
“Hey, come on in,” he says, stepping out of the way so I can enter.
I step out of my boots, nudging them off to the side, where there’s an existing pile of footwear. Then I drop my coat on top. There’s a coat closet, but I’m not going to be here long enough to fuss with it.
Usually my three-year-old nephew would have run into the hall and thrown himself into my knees with so much enthusiasm it literally staggers me by now. “Where’s Sam?”
“He laid down on the living room floor with a book and fell asleep. I know I should move him, but he’s so quiet and itisa really soft throw rug.”
I follow Donovan into the living room, and decline a beverage when he offers one. I point at his chest instead. “Listen. I thought you and I were good.”
“I thought so, too. Are we not good?” He shakes his head. “If we’re not, you’re the one telling your sister, and I don’t want to be in the room when you do.”
“I heard that,” Natalie calls from the hallway a few seconds before walking into the room.
I stand and lean in over her very substantial baby “bump” to kiss her cheek. “Hey, sis.”
“Why are you two not good?” She asks, lowering herself onto the couch.
“I’m not sure,” Donovan says as he sits next to her. I sink into one of the matching chairs. “Rob?”
“I’m not sure, either. You tell me what I did to you that was so bad you had to put Whitney Forrester in my life as payback.”
