Jessica Keller - The Fireman's Secret

Fair Tradewinds Coffee was easy to find because of the rusted old boat lift attached to the part of the shop that hung over the water. The building was a reclaimed relic dating back to the town’s founding as a port for shipping lumber to Chicago. The large sign hanging from the old boat lift read: Try the Screaming Joe. It’s Just the Lift You Need!

He pushed through the front door. The coffee shop took nautical decorations to the extreme. An old boat mast served as a middle support column, burlap coffee bean sacks hung on the walls and a large white sail was suspended like a billowing cloud from the ceiling. The baristas were dressed like sailors.

Despite how quiet and sleepy the town had seemed, almost every seat in the coffee shop was taken except for the couches near a potbelly stove. And he guessed they were available only because of a sign that read the section was reserved.

“Hey.” Shelby waved from a small table that butted up to one of the couches.

Joel nodded to her but stopped at the counter to order a drink before grabbing a seat. Shelby wore a sweatshirt big enough to belong to her brother. For a minute, Joel wondered if she’d met him in her pajamas, but no. She wore jeans and her hair was wet, so she’d clearly taken a shower and chosen to wear the tent-like shirt.

“What’d you order?” She pulled a notepad out of her small bag and grinned at him.

“The Screaming Joe.”

Her mouth fell open and eyes went wide. “You didn’t.”

“I did.” He smiled.

“Have you ever tried it?”

“I’m about to. Why, should I be afraid?”

“They put hot sauce in the coffee,” she whispered.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He winked at her and then took a big swig. Huge mistake. A burning rushed down his throat and filled his chest. He coughed, eyes watering.

Shelby covered a wide smile with one hand and shoved a wad of napkins at him with the other. “Not so bad, huh?”

“Wow.” He wheezed and shoved the cup of offending coffee to the center of the table. “I think that’s about half hot sauce and half coffee.”

“You’re new in town, so I’d say it was eighty percent hot sauce.”

“I’m afraid to try anything else here.” He laughed.

“Everything else is safe. The Screaming Joe’s on the menu because of Robert.” She pointed at a man who looked like a seventy-year-old in the body of a thirty-year-old. “He owns the place and says he’s in such good shape because he drinks a Screaming Joe every morning.”

“He can have mine.” Joel caught himself grinning like a child again. Shelby was so easy to joke with. It was refreshing. It helped that they already knew each other, because the get-to-know-each-other part of friendships was the part Joel disliked the most. “So, what are your thoughts for this fund-raiser?”

“Okay.” Shelby flipped over the first page of her notepad to reveal a sheet of notes. “I called the local scout leader last night and he volunteered his group to be servers at our pancake breakfast. So, between them and the youth group kids that Paige and Caleb work with, we’re set there. Maggie West said she’d round up some local women to help cook that morning. We need to set a date, decide on a location and secure the ingredients as donations. What else? Did you have some ideas?”

“I...um.” To be honest, he hadn’t thought about actual details for the fund-raiser at all since the chief told him he’d be assigned to help. “The chief said we can hold it at the firehouse.”

“Oh, good.” She bit her lip while she jotted that down. “I figured, I mean...” She stared at something over his shoulder.

Joel glanced behind him. A group of five men finished their orders at the front counter and then claimed the couch area right next to them. When he turned back to Shelby her hands were braced on either side of her face, her elbows on the table. Her eyes bored into a napkin as if it was the most important thing in the world.

“Do you know them?” Joel leaned closer to her and kept his voice low.

“They all go to the church I attend—the singles group.” She didn’t look up.

One of the men behind them must have spotted Joel and Shelby because he said to his friends, “Did you see her?”

“That’s Shelby, isn’t it?” They clearly thought they were talking low enough not to be overheard. “How long do you think she’ll give the new guy?”

“Only gave me three dates.”

“Me, too.”

“It’s always just three dates. Then she decides she’s too good for whoever she’s with. Poor loser. I wonder what date he’s on now.”

“Forget her. She’s pretty, but she’s not worth the time and trouble.”

“Right. I’m happy I found Brenda.”

“When’s the wedding?”

Joel couldn’t make sense of the conversation. The chief and Caleb both called Shelby special, but that didn’t jibe with what the men from her church were saying. With how they were acting, he wasn’t surprised that Shelby had dumped them all after three dates. In fact, he was more surprised they’d made it to the third if they thought it was okay to talk about a woman like that while she was within earshot. Still, he wondered what had happened. Had Caleb flexed his muscles and convinced Shelby she shouldn’t be with them? Or had he issued warnings like he’d done already to Joel?

Shelby dashed a tear from her cheek and shifted in her chair as if she were about to make a run for it. Why had he let her sit and endure that conversation?

Joel snaked his hand across the table and grabbed hers. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they left the shop, she clutched his hand tightly, the way she had the first day after the car accident.

And he didn’t mind one bit.

* * *

Shelby swallowed hard. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. I can explain.” But could she? No. Not without saying she’d broken off every relationship once she started to like the guy—once she had realized she would eventually have to tell him about her scars.

What must Joel think of her after hearing those men? There went any hopes of a friendship with him.

Even so, Shelby dug her fingers into the back of Joel’s hand like it was a lifeline. She gulped warm air as he led her down the boardwalk that followed the beach to the old lighthouse, which marked the edge of Goose Harbor. Shelby had held hands with a small number of men in her life—her father, Caleb and a couple of guys she’d dated. Not one of them had hands like Joel Palermo—rough and calloused, but with fingers long enough to be a concert pianist’s.

He looked out at the lake. “Think we can make it all the way to the lighthouse?”

“Joel—”

“It’s already pretty warm, but if you’re game, I am.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear those guys.” She dropped his hand and faced him. “I know you did.”

He shrugged. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

She fiddled with the strap on her bag and looked at her shoes. “But I don’t want you to think that I...”

“I don’t think that.”

Her eyes met his. “You don’t?”

He stepped closer. They were already standing close so now he was only a breath or two away. “Believe me, I know better than to let other people form opinions for me.”

“Okay.” She stepped back, putting a couple of feet of space between them. “But if you don’t want to spend time with me after that, I understand.” Why had she said that? Again and again she shoved people away before they had the chance to reject her.

“Shelby, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but no one’s forcing me to spend time with you.” He laughed and held up a hand. “Okay, technically the chief is forcing me to spend time with you, but I’m glad because without him I’d have to think of an excuse to do the same.”