Kathleen Y'Barbo - Her Holiday Fireman

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A Holiday He’d Never Forget

From his first encounter with the feisty redhead, widower and fire marshal Ryan Owen knows he’s in trouble. He’s in Vine Beach to heal, not to find romance. As for Leah Berry, she’s come home strictly to lay claim to her family’s restaurant and fend off developers. Leah is infuriated when Ryan shuts down the restaurant on violations. Both are determined to have their way, even as something unexpected starts blossoming between them. They’ll need to learn the hardest thing about love and faith—letting go.

“Get. Out. Of. Here,” Leah said through clenched jaws.

The dog paused long enough to blink, then returned his attention to Baby, her oversize orange tabby, whose hissing and howling did nothing to help the situation. Leah waved her magazine at the dog, but the animal ignored her completely.

A shrill whistle split the air. The dog froze and looked back toward the open door. Another whistle and he made a hasty exit.

Leah stormed out in pursuit of whoever owned the disaster with paws only to slam into a wall of gray fabric.

The collision knocked her backward, and she saw stars. A pair of strong arms caught and pulled her upright.

“Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine,” she said, though her field of vision was limited to a gray Firemen’s Training School T-shirt. Moving her gaze higher, she recognized her rescuer as someone who looked very familiar.

Ryan Owen.

About the Author

KATHLEEN Y’BARBOis a multipublished bestselling author of Christian fiction and nonfiction with over thirty books to her credit. She writes historical novels for Waterbrook Press and is the coauthor of two nonfiction books on divorce and empty nest syndrome. A tenth-generation Texan, she holds a marketing degree from Texas A&M University and a certificate in paralegal studies. Kathleen is the proud mother of a daughter and three grown sons.

Her Holiday Fireman

Kathleen Y’Barbo

www.millsandboon.co.uk

As charcoal to embers and as wood to fire,

so is a quarrelsome man for kindling strife.

—Proverbs 26:21

“It’s just dinner.”

—Robert Turner

In memory of Ryan Euan,

for a life well lived in a time far too short, and

for those in whose hearts he will continue to live.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Teaser Chapter

Chapter One

“Leah, somebody needs to tell the guy at table seven that we closed twenty minutes ago. He just ordered another plate of fried shrimp then had the nerve to ask me to bring him a dessert menu.”

Leah Berry looked up from the list she was making to see the young waitress scowling at the offending customer. Dark hair, muscles and a leave-me-alone expression marked him as a guy who wasn’t expecting company or, apparently, planning to leave, even though the sign on the door was clearly marked with the news that Pop’s Seafood Shack was only open for lunch on Wednesdays until 3:00 p.m. from the first of November through the end of the year. It was now 3:20 p.m.

Much as Leah needed to get over to the stables and see to the horses, it wasn’t worth losing a customer over. If she’d learned anything since she left her curator’s job at The Galveston Preservation Society last spring to run the family restaurant, it was that the customer came first.

“Be nice and go fill his tea glass,” she said firmly. “And smile when you hand him that menu.”

The waitress, barely out of her teens and more set on a modeling career than one in food service, opened her mouth to complain then obviously thought better of it. Kate Murdoch hadn’t quite taken to being a waitress but she was willing to work for what the restaurant could afford to pay her during the winter season. Plus, her father was the mayor of Vine Beach and an old friend of Pop’s. Much as Leah hoped Kate made a success of her modeling dreams, she didn’t wish for it to happen soon.

Grabbing a menu with one hand and the tea pitcher with the other, Kate wound her way through the maze of tables to where the stranger sat mesmerized by the view of the Gulf beyond the wide expanse of windows. He offered the waitress a nod then went back to gazing at the water again. Leah watched to make sure the future super model offered no evidence of her irritation.

“I told you we needed a rule about ordering all-you-can-eat in the last hour before closing,” Kate said when she breezed past to deposit the empty plates. “He’s picking at the shrimp and staring out the window. Seriously. I’m so over this.”

“He probably just doesn’t realize we’re only open for lunch on Wednesdays,” she offered to Kate’s retreating back.

Orlando, her father’s best pal and the only cook Pop’s Seafood Shack had ever had, stepped into her line of sight. Arms crossed over his barrel chest, Orlando seemed to study the U.S. Navy tattoo on his forearm before lifting his gaze to Leah’s.

“What?” she asked softly as she once again set her work aside. “We hold the kitchen open until the last diner’s done. House rules, even on Wednesday. You know that.”

“Don’t get all riled up, Lee-Lee.” The cook went back to studying the inked insignia as he managed a shrug. “Just thinking of the bottom line. Overtime for the two of us plus all that food the guy’s putting away means you’re losing a whole bunch of money. I’d put up the closed sign and flash the lights, if it were up to me.”

Leah sighed.

He reached to touch her shoulder. “Look, kiddo, I know it ain’t the way your pop would’ve done things but this is a new day.” Orlando sent the diner at table seven an irritated look. “And new days call for new ways. That home you’re keeping your father in ain’t cheap, and I know you’re not making enough here to cover what the insurance doesn’t.”

When Orlando got in a mood, humor was always the best remedy. “So you’re saying I should stay open on Wednesday evenings, too? What would the choir down at Grace Bible do with their star baritone stuck behind a stove frying shrimp?”

Tossing his apron aside, the cook headed across the room, hit the switch on the open sign and slid the dead bolt on the door. When the guy ignored the gesture in favor of reaching for his tea glass and draining it, Orlando made a great show of returning to the kitchen. The diner, however, returned to his menu as if nothing had happened.

“Least now we guarantee no one else shows up,” Orlando grumbled as he snatched his apron and stalked back to the grill.

The man in question looked up. Their gazes collided, and Leah nodded. Apparently it was time for dessert at table seven. She turned to call for Kate only to find her dressed in her street clothes. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ve got a date.” She gestured to the clock on the kitchen wall. “Seriously, you remember what it’s like to be in love, right?”