Allie Pleiter - Small-Town Fireman

Maybe I like it that way. “Ever since you started ‘ring shopping’ with Charlotte, you’ve become impossible, Sykes. Well, more impossible than usual.” Jesse had been the firehouse’s most proclaimed bachelor until a pretty, young Chicagoan named Charlotte Taylor had bought a property right out from underneath him. Jesse got himself hired to help Charlotte renovate that cottage, and it was safe to say the relationship had gone far beyond contractor-client since then. “You going to pop the question soon?”

Jesse’s smile gave the answer even though he replied, “That, mister, is privileged information.”

“Good for you. Really, I’m glad for you.” He was—he and Jesse were good friends—it was just that the wave of happy couples in Gordon Falls was getting a little hard to bear. Starting with Fire Inspector Chad Owens, there had been four weddings and an engagement in recent years, and Jesse was about to make that number five.

Dylan hoped that would signal an end to the discussion, but no such luck. His buddy sat back down on the locker room bench. “Look, Dylan, you gotta put yourself back out there. You can’t let Yvonne keep doing this to you—I can’t stand to watch it. Just because she went after someone with deeper pockets doesn’t mean every woman sees you as short on cash.”

How many versions of this lecture was Sykes going to give him? Dylan glared at Jesse again, hoping to signal his reluctance to hear any more on the topic.

“I mean it. You’re doing fine for yourself. You are long on charm, buddy. Give yourself more credit. You’re a catch. There are other fish in...”

Dylan rolled his eyes and held up one hand. “Stop with the fishing metaphors. Please, I’m begging you.”

Jesse squared off at him. “Tell me you’re over Yvonne.”

“I am,” Dylan declared as he bent down over his second boot, trying hard not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

Jesse shook his head and blew out a breath. “Nope. Make me believe it.”

Dylan tied off his second boot so ferociously the lace broke. Determined to put an end to this once and for all, he stared hard at Jesse and growled, “I. Am. Over. Yvonne.” He tried to remember that the other fireman had his best interest at heart. Still, no one could ever call Jesse Sykes subtle. For all his good-hearted companionship, the guy was an interpersonal bulldozer.

“And Karla Kennedy is...” Jesse circled his hand in the air, cuing Dylan to finish the sentence.

Just say what he wants to hear and he’ll go away . Dylan shrugged his shoulders. “Kind of cute and very smart.”

“ Very cute and super smart.” Jesse pointed at Dylan. “C’mon, you said she dubbed you ‘Captain’—that’s a dead giveaway right there. The woman has eyes for you.”

Of course it amused him that she’d begun to call him Captain, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Sykes. The guy needed no encouragement. “I’ve sworn off women with hard-driving ambitions. Besides, she’s going back to Chicago as soon as she can manage it.”

“Maybe not, if you give her some good reasons to stay.” Jesse slid his bag back onto his shoulder. “When’s the next Coffee Catch thing?”

He almost didn’t say, worried his pal would show up and do something everyone would regret. A talented tenor, Jesse had a regrettable habit of breaking into song at inappropriate times. “Next Tuesday.”

Thankfully, Jesse turned toward the locker room door. But not before calling “More fat-walleted businessmen?” over his shoulder.

“Nuns.”

Jesse spun around to stare wide-eyed at Jesse. “What?”

It was the truth, but Dylan immediately realized he should have made up something else. Jesse would never let something like this go. “The sisters of Saint Cecilia’s,” he explained, applying his “don’t get started” face. “They’re on retreat. They booked a fishing expedition and evidently they like good coffee.”

Jesse clapped his hands together, walking back toward Dylan. “Ha! Buddy, you’re in. Nuns. They’ll love you. Not a speck of competition in sight. It’s a sign from above, I tell you.” He laughed. “Fishing nuns. Only you, McDonald, only you.”

Dylan felt compelled to defend the good sisters. “Hey, they sound like nice people. They’ll probably be a lot less trouble than this morning’s captains of industry, that’s for sure. Those guys were high maintenance.” He paused and blinked. “Can a guy be high maintenance?”

Jesse picked at the denim shirt Dylan had on. “It’s not like you’d ever know.”

Chapter Four

Karla wasn’t surprised when Dylan showed up at her counter Thursday morning. He wore a wide smile, so it was safe to say he felt the Coffee Catch experiment had gone as well as she did. “What’ll it be today, Captain?”

His eyes narrowed just a bit as his smile widened. “I have to say, that’s growing on me.” He wore a navy blue shirt that did splendid things with his tanned complexion, despite the fraying around the edges. The rugged attire definitely suited him, even if no one would ever call Dylan McDonald a clotheshorse.

“Oh, well—” she applied a mock scowl “—we can’t have that, now, can we?” Karla turned the crank to shoot a burst of steam through the espresso machine, clearing out the piping for whatever Dylan would get this morning. “I was thinking hazelnut this morning. Less sweet, but smooth.”

“Maybe a banana nut muffin to go with that?”

“Excellent choice.” As Karla began making the drink, it struck her how much she’d been looking forward to Dylan’s visit this morning. She was proud of her idea for the Coffee Catch, satisfied that it had worked out so well for everyone involved, including her. “So, who’s coming Tuesday?”

Dylan got a funny look on his face. “Nuns.”

“What?”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Why is everyone so surprised that the sisters of Saint Cecilia’s want to go fishing?”

He had a point. “I guess I shouldn’t be. Lots of people like fishing, I suppose.”

She’d said that wrong; his expression perked right up, catching the disdain she’d neglected to hide from her voice. “But not you.”

Karla busied herself with the hazelnut syrup. “Well, no. It’s not my favorite.” As the words left her mouth, she realized just what she’d let herself in for. When she looked up from the mug she was filling, Dylan’s hands were planted on his hips.

“I’m going to have to take offense at that. Fishing is wonderful. This is Gordon Falls, after all. Fishing is practically our national pastime.”

She poured the steamed milk into the mug to mix with the fragrant coffee. “I don’t think a town can have a national pastime.”

“Don’t get technical. I know Karl fishes. You can’t tell me your grandpa never took you fishing.”

“Oh, he did. Lots of times. It was sort of fun when I was little.” Why hadn’t she had the sense not to get into this discussion with someone like Dylan?

“Then what made it not fun when you were bigger?”

There wasn’t a safe way to answer that. There were times when peaceful afternoons out on the river made for good memories. It was just that as she grew up, those long stretches out on the water too often ended up in tense arguments between her father and grandpa. “It wasn’t the fishing, so much as the fisher men .” She slid the steaming mug toward him and lifted the dome off the glass plate where the muffins sat piled.

Dylan caught the plural. “Obnoxious brother?”

“Oh, no, I’m an only child of an only child. Let’s just say Dad and Grandpa don’t always paddle their boats in the same direction.” That felt much kinder than the memories of arguments she’d tried hard to forget ever happened. Some of those trips were the first times she’d become aware of her difficult position between her father and grandfather. She loved them both, but most times they had such a difficult time loving each other. It was one of the reasons she’d consented to come out here when Grandpa needed help—leaving Dad and Grandpa alone with each other was always a dicey proposition.