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Rubbing a hand over my face as I pulled out of the parking lot, I knew I needed to buck up. Hattie and her parents never took a day off, either. They busted their butts on their family business every single day of the week, sometimes pulling all-nighters so they could get it all done.
At least I could get a full night’s sleep almost every night unless the squadrons were running night flights and we needed to be there in case of a crash.
But the rest of the time? I had a favorite recliner in front of the TV in our firehouse, and I spent a decent amount of time lounging on it when we weren’t running drills.
One thing I didn’t do was help Hattie on her late nights at work. As much as I loved spending time with her—especially now that we were officially together—I had a responsibility to the three other guys on my four-man team. I knew better than to pull an all-nighter right before going on shift with them. My guys needed me at my best so none of us would get hurt in the event of an emergency. This rib thing was due to carelessness, but it still made me realize I needed to stay sharp, even with all of the extra work I was doing.
My life—and the lives of my team members—depended on it.
When I pulled up to the last floral delivery of the day, I picked up the clipboard and checked the address. Yep, this was right. I peered up at the gleaming red fire station with a raised brow.
What did Bluffton’s local fire station need with so many flowers?
Shrugging, I got out. The sooner I finished this delivery, the sooner I could get back to the shop and try to convince Hattie to break for dinner. Turned out her parents weren’t the only ones who needed to remind the woman to eat. She worked harder than anyone I’d ever met, and she frequently worked through mealtimes without thinking twice about it.
Over the last three months, I realized that the amount of time she spent chatting with her customers had a lot to do with her long hours. She didn’t push them into getting the first arrangement within reach or rush them out of the store once they’d labored over picking the perfect one. She took her time talking to them and treating them like they were old friends rather than simply customers.
It was another reason I knew I wouldn’t be as good at her job as she was. If I had as much on my plate as Hattie, I’d zip through those human interactions efficiently and carefully, completely skipping the lengthy chitchat.
But, at the end of the day, maybe that was all part of the charm of shopping with a family-owned business. Those chain stores had nothing on Hattie’s irresistible smile and genuine interest in the lives of others.
I pushed a double-decker cart full of red roses up to the firehouse, nodding at a fireman I passed on the way in. “Delivery from Bluffton Blooms.”
He grinned and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Follow me.”
We passed through the apparatus bay, and I eyed the shiny red engine and ladder trucks housed within. Our olive-green P-19 trucks were a lot different than their civilian counterparts.
They didn’t gleam. They weren’t shiny. They were built like a tank, designed to be the first on the scene for an aircraft fire, sometimes even behind enemy lines.
In fact, the rig was set up for transport in the air via a C-130 or other large planes.
The fireman I followed led me through their house, and my eyes took in the high ceilings, updated furnishings, and freshly painted walls. Looked like somebody had done some remodeling recently.
I low whistle worked its way out as we passed by a state-of-the-art gym, and my brows rose as I counted the various exercise machines they had in there. The day room was bright and airy, with stainless steel appliances and plenty of seating.
Shoot, if these common areas looked this nice, I wondered how nice the bunk room would be. Probably the five-star hotel version of the racks we slept in on base.
Must be nice.
My guide stopped at a door that had his captain’s name on a plaque outside. “Here you go.”
I pushed the cart through the open door and smiled at the man I found seated behind the desk. “Hey, sir, good afternoon.”
He grinned and stood from his chair, coming around to shake my hand. “Captain Bellows, nice to meet you.”
“Thatcher,” I replied, shaking his hand. “Great looking house you have here.”
“Thank you. You ever been in a fire station before?”
I let out a low chuckle. “I have. I’m in Crash Fire Rescue up at Beaufort.”
“A Marine?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well,” he said, eyeing my company shirt with the Bluffton Blooms logo, “I have to say I’ve never seen a Marine wearing a pink shirt with flowers on it before.”
I laughed. “I’m helping my girlfriend with her family business. They own the shop.”
