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Horror filled Harper and she furiously shook her head. She thought her grandma had straight lost her mind, that’s what. “Um, absolutely not. I can’t move in with West. That’s . . . crazy.”
“Why? He’s only there half the time and once the fire season really kicks into gear, he probably won’t be there hardly ever,” Grandma pointed out. “Hmm, I do hope he’s going to work on the condo before he gets too wrapped up in fighting fires.”
What her grandma was suggesting was ludicrous. She couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around the idea of living with West. Spending lots of time with him, seeing him during private, intimate moments: West fresh out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips and his skin still damp. Or West first thing in the morning, his dark hair a mess, his eyes sleepy as he shuffled into the kitchen in search of coffee.
Hmm. Maybe she could imagine it. That was the problem.
“Living with West is out of the question,” Harper finally said, glancing down at her empty coffee cup. “I need a job, too, Grandma. Just something temporary until I can—”
Her grandma cut her off, resting a hand to her chest, her bright red nails flashing as she said, “Oh, thank the Lord above. I thought you were going to continue working for Roger and that just wouldn’t do, Harper. Not at all.”
“You’re right, I know. I just . . . I couldn’t do it. I need to find something else.”
She was here on a Wednesday morning. Roger had given her the week off—paid of course—so she could go in search of another job. But they were so few and far between in Wildwood. Maybe she could wait tables at the BFD until something better came along. Not that she was especially good at waiting tables, but a girl had to make money to live.
And Roger understood. He always understood. While at one point in their relationship she’d found his intuitive ways nurturing, so reaffirming of his love, after a while, it had just started to grate on her nerves. Why hadn’t he ever yelled? Gotten mad? He had one mood and it was always the same: Calm. Even. Unruffled. In certain situations, it came in handy. But other times, she wanted more. She wanted . . .
Passion. It always came back to that.
“Of course you couldn’t continue working for him. Now you’re going to work for me.”
Harper blinked at her grandmother, remaining silent. This was exactly what she wanted, but she’d figured she’d have to ask for the job.
“If I could give you one bit of relationship advice, I’d say never allow the man you’re dating to be in a position of power over you. Roger was your boss.”
Grandma shook her head, her gaze going hazy like it did when she was reminiscing. “I never dated a man I worked for. Not like I’ve worked many jobs in my life, to be truthful. But did you know that crazy old coot Buster Boner tried to hit me up about a year after your grandpa passed? He approached me at one of those Friday Nights at the Lake events and told me he had seventy-five thousand dollars in savings and two tickets to Hawaii—was I in?”
Her grandma changed subjects as quickly as the wind shifted on a particularly hot day in Wildwood.
“Were you in for what?” Harper vaguely remembered Buster Boner. First, because really, who could forget that completely unforgivable and horrendous name? Buster was a nickname—he’d actually chosen to be called that versus whatever his real name was. He’d
been a part of her grandma’s social circle back when Harper was a teenager and he was quite the storyteller.
“He wanted to take care of me.” Grandma made quotation marks in the air with her fingers. “Saw me as a helpless old widow I guess. Thought he’d win me over with an exotic trip and oodles of money.” Grandma shook her head, made a disapproving noise. “Men. They’re ridiculous. Or they’re wonderful. Take your pick.”
Harper laughed. “They’re all of those things. I completely agree.”
“Of course you do. Now.” Grandma slid out of the booth and clapped her hands once. Her signal that meant she was getting down to business. “Let me show you what I’d like you to do for me here at the BFD.”
Harper followed suit, frowning as she stood. “I thought I would just be a waitress?” The very last thing she wanted to be. Maybe she could be the cashier instead? Or the hostess? Though the BFD never had someone who was strictly the hostess. God, she didn’t know what she was going to do.
“Oh, goodness no. You’re too qualified for that. I’m going to let you into my inner sanctum, you lucky girl.” Her grandma started walking toward the back of the restaurant, but Harper remained rooted to the floor.
The inner sanctum was code for her grandma’s office. She never let anyone back there. It was forbidden. She had her own filing system—total chaos—and if anyone came in and toppled over one of the piles of receipts or folders or whatever, that was it. Her grandma went into a full-blown tizzy, shooing them out and barricading the door.
So everyone just stayed out of her office. It was easier that way.
When Harper still hadn’t followed her grandma turned, glaring at her. “Come on now. I don’t have all day.”
“Um, why do you want me to go to your office?” Harper asked nervously.
Grandma had a look on her face that clearly said duh. “Because I want you to eventually take over the business, my darling girl. No one else could run this place but me—or you. And besides”—she grinned—“I have over two hundred thousand in the bank and I plan on buying two tickets to Hawaii. I’m going to need some time trying to size up which old coot I want to take along with me when I retire once and for all.”
“I’M FUCKING STARVING,” West muttered under his breath as he hopped out of the fire engine and slammed the door. The rest of his shift team joined him at the back of the engine and they all headed toward the entrance of the restaurant together as one.
This was his last full day on shift. Tomorrow morning at eight, he’d be off. It had been a productive four days, learning the routine of his new station, getting everyone’s names straight, quietly figuring out who could possibly be trouble and who was a solid member of his team. So far, no one seemed to be much trouble. But it was still early in the fire season yet—Memorial Day weekend had only just passed—and all of them had been on their best behavior.
He could smell the tantalizing scent of burgers as far as the parking lot and his stomach growled in answer. They’d been going at it steadily since six this morning. Menial calls, every one of them, but just enough to keep them busy and unable to eat a real meal. He’d scarfed down a protein bar around ten and had a bottle of water with him always, but he was down-to-the-bones hungry.
