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Besides, a little flirtation never hurt anyone. Right?
Chapter Five
GRANDMA PEEKED HER head around the doorway. “Someone’s out there asking for you.”
Harper looked up from the paperwork she was trying to comb through. “Who could be looking for me here?”
Her grandma had already taken off.
Only twenty-four hours into her new job and Harper was already exhausted. And majorly confused. Her grandma definitely wasn’t the best when it came to organizing things. There was no rhyme or reason to the haphazard filing system the woman had adopted since she first opened the diner. It was really a system that only Rebecca Hill understood. Yet she wanted her wrecked system cleaned up “in case I leave the restaurant to you one day.” Direct quote. Or worse, if the IRS ever decided to conduct an audit.
She was already overwhelmed and she’d only gone through the top drawer of one filing cabinet. Numerous filing cabinets lined one wall of the small office. Plus there was a closet full of past paperwork that she’d need to go through as well.
She figured she’d bitten off more than she could chew, but no way was she admitting that to anyone. Instead she’d soldier on like she was so good at doing, never complaining.
With a weary sigh Harper stood, stretching her arms above her head, twisting to the left, then the right, her cramped muscles protesting. Her back hurt from being hunched over the file cabinet and her grandma’s messy desk the last two days. Upon entering the office, she’d vowed to have the entire spot clean in two weeks, but Grandma only laughed. Other employees of the restaurant had bets on exactly how long it would take Harper to clean up “the inner sanctum”—and how long Harper would last at the BFD in general.
Despite her reputation for being hardworking, no one had any faith in her. And that stung. Was it because to the outside world, it looked like she’d given up on Roger?
Tilting her neck to one side, then the other, she heard the satisfying crack. She’d show every single one of them eventually. So maybe it would take a little longer than she originally planned. She wasn’t a quitter. Fine, she quit her relationship and her job, but she’d had no choice. If she hadn’t shaken up her life, she’d have been in for years of the same thing, over and over again. Talk about boring. Maybe cleaning out her grandmother’s office wasn’t exactly the answer, but it was a start. However small.
She walked down the narrow hall past the bathrooms and the d
oorway to the kitchen until she was behind the diner’s long counter, where mostly regulars sat for their midafternoon cup of coffee and piece of pie. The BFD served only Rebecca Hill’s special homemade pie; it was famous throughout the region and both her lemon meringue and apple pies had won awards in the past.
When her grandma informed Harper last night she’d need to learn the recipes before she retired, Harper had almost experienced a full-blown panic attack. She wasn’t much of a cook. And she definitely wasn’t good at baking. How was she expected to take over the pie-making duties?
She smiled at old Lester Marcum, who nodded his greeting since his mouth was too stuffed with pie. Glancing around the restaurant, she spotted the group from Cal Fire, recognizing a few faces, though there was no Tate and he was the one who typically accompanied this particular group.
“There you are.”
The familiar, deep warm voice came from directly behind her. She went still, closing her eyes briefly because she knew she looked an absolute mess and she didn’t want to see him like this: not a lick of makeup on; her hair in the sloppiest knot on top of her head barely held together with a pen; she wore a faded BFD T-shirt that was dirty from her rummaging around in her grandma’s dusty office; old denim shorts that were frayed at the hem; and beat-up white Converse that really weren’t white at all, more like a nondescript gray that came from many years of wear.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and turned to face him, a firm smile on her face. She’d just pretend she was dressed up and looking gorgeous. Fake it until you make it. “Weston. Imagine running into you here.” She should’ve known he would’ve brought the fire crew to the diner.
“I heard you were working at the BFD and had to see it for myself.” He grinned, ridiculously good-looking in his navy blue uniform. She tried to keep her gaze focused on his face and not blatantly check him out, but she couldn’t help herself.
She blatantly checked him out. And liked every single thing she saw too. She’d never been one to fall for a guy in a uniform. Never thought much about a guy in full military dress or some sexy uniformed cop—Wren went through a stage a few years ago where she was hot for every young cop in uniform she saw. Didn’t help that her big brother had a swarm of various deputies for friends. They only fed her fantasy. But she got over it quick because Lane nipped it in the bud, saying none of his friends were worthy of dating her.
There was nothing like a big brother to put a major damper on his sister’s not-so-secret fantasy.
Right now though, Harper was considering all sorts of fantasies involving West in his uniform. She especially liked the thick black utility belt he wore. The heavy boots on his feet. And those tattoos that covered his arms, those were new. Every single one of them. They were hot too. And mysterious. She wanted to know the meaning behind them all. Made her want to unbutton his uniform shirt slowly and reveal the T-shirt beneath. She had a feeling it clung to his every muscle just right . . .
“Does your grandma have you outside digging in the dirt or what?” West asked, pushing her out of her thoughts.
Harper blinked up at him. He must’ve seen the confusion on her face because he leaned in a little closer, his voice low as he said, “You’re kind of dirty.”
Ah, if he said that while implying a different, more scandalous meaning, she would be blushing. But she really was dirty. She glanced down at herself, wiping at the front of her shorts. More like absolutely filthy. “I’m cleaning out her office right now. It’s sort of a nightmare.”
He whistled low. “Sounds rough.”
“Trust me, it is.” Though nothing was as rough as fighting wildfires, going on medical calls, car accidents . . . all the stuff West did on a daily if not hourly basis. He probably thought she was a complete and total joke, griping about cleaning out a stupid file cabinet and getting paper cuts. But damn it, those little slices in her skin hurt. “How are you doing? Is your first shift back in Wildwood going well? Are we keeping you busy?”
“So far, it’s been good.” He glanced back at the table where the others from his station sat finishing their meals. “And today was extra busy. Finally got a chance to stop off for a late lunch.”
“Well, we’re honored you chose the BFD.” She smiled, trying to fight the nerves bouncing in her stomach from the way West watched her so carefully. “How was your food?”
“Delicious, as usual.” His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there, and her lips tingled as if he’d reached out and physically touched them. She shouldn’t react this way, right? She’d broken up with Roger only a few days ago and she was already having physical feelings for someone else. Granted, those feelings were for someone she’d harbored a secret crush on for years, but still. It was wrong.
