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I nod. My best friend, Owen’s sister, is a flight attendant. She gets back tomorrow from her latest trip. I don’t even remember where she is. But I do know she’s had a hard time staying in touch with Owen since he left Harvest Hollow. He’s not the most communicative person in the world. And that is an understatement.
I thought I was over having to hide my complicated feelings for her brother from her.
Doesn’t matter. No complicated feelings here.
Only embarrassment. I need him to go away.
But he doesn’t go away. He moves around in front of me. “This is a lot. But you’re going to be okay.” He gently hands the mask back to me, indicating for me to put it up over my nose. “Just breathe.”
My pulse quickens under the weight of his gaze. Suddenly, I’m Elizabeth Bennett, feeling the passionate stare of Mr. Darcy.
I am not the kind of girl who is accustomed to attention from the opposite sex. And I’m okay with that. I’ve accepted it.
Although, I wouldn’t complain if some guy swept me off my feet and professed his undying love for me in a gazebo in the rain.
A part of me does know that getting caught in the rain, even with Mr. Darcy, would not feel very romantic. I’d be sopping wet with mascara streaking down my face like a villain in a Tim Burton movie.
But in the novels? Totally swoony.
Doesn’t matter. I don’t need swoony romance novel rain. I’ve got my bookshop. I’ve got my podcast. That’s enough.
The thought rolls another wave of emotion over me, and I sink my head down and cry.
Owen reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder. A kind gesture, probably. He probably does the same for all the women he pulls out of burning buildings.
I tell myself not to confuse his attention with anything other than what it is— professional duty. He has a job to do, and he’s seeing it through.
And once he knows I’m not dying, he can take off—and out of my life—just like he did all those years ago.
Without a word.
The small crowd of people off to the side has grown, and I’m thankful to learn I’m not the only person who spends my evenings in my pajamas. One slipper hangs off my foot, and I wonder where the other one is, and if I’ll have any real clothes to wear once all of this is over.
Another firefighter walks by.
“Do you know how it started?” I ask, doing my best to push aside my awkward feelings for Owen.
“Faulty wiring is the working theory.” The other firefighter, who I now recognize as Owen’s friend, Jace Janssen, stops beside Owen and nods at me. “I’m glad you’re okay, Miss Smart.” I realize that I know him. Owen’s friend Jace. They grew up together, but while Owen liked to color outside the lines, Jace tended to walk a straighter, narrower path.
It would’ve made more sense for me to have a ridiculous crush on him, but alas, the heart wants what the heart wants. . .and my young heart really, really wanted Owen.
“Yeah,” I say, eyes flicking to Owen’s, then back to Jace. “Wish the same could be said for my house.”
“Things can be replaced,” Jace says. “People can’t.”
Called it.
They get pulled back into the fray, and I draw in another shaky breath.
“Emmy!” My mother’s voice pulls my attention. “Emaline!” She sounds hysterical. Seconds later, I see her come through the small crowd, my dad trailing behind, clearly having been awakened from a deep sleep and dragged over here.
Odds are good that he fell asleep in his recliner watching old reruns of Walker, Texas Ranger. Dad is in a Chuck Norris phase. Again.
My mom rushes over to me and takes my sweaty and sooty face in her hands. “We rushed straight over as soon as we got Peggy’s call.”
Peggy. Of course.
“Oh my goodness, are you okay? Are you hurt? Where does it hurt? And what’s all over your face?” She pats my shoulders, as if searching for deficiencies, then rubs at the mud mask I completely forgot I was wearing. Because that’s just my luck.
