Jennifer Snow - What a Girl Wants

“Luke’s bachelor party is tonight … if you’re not doing anything, stop by.”

“Stop by?” Bailey asked, staring incredulously at Ethan. “To Luke’s boys’ night?” She hung out with the guys all the time, but a bachelor party?

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well, for one, I have Victoria’s bachelorette tonight. A wine and cheese at the Brookhollow Inn.” The poker and beer was so much more appealing.

“That sounds awful. Why would you go to that?”

Bailey shook her head. “Because I’m a woman, and women go to boring bachelorette parties and talk about you guys, while you guys have all the fun and forget we exist.”

“Huh.” Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he studied her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I guess I just never really see you that way. As a woman, I mean.”

Dear Reader,

Real-life love stories happen in many different ways, but one of my all-time favorite stories is when a friendship develops into a different kind of love. In What A Girl Wants, it was so much fun exploring what could happen when the hero begins to see his best friend, the heroine, in a new light. Two people who know each other’s secrets, who share a common history and who respect and appreciate each other can create the biggest spark when one or both are awakened to the awareness that maybe there’s something more… .

Of course the real pleasure of these stories lies in the mystery of the pathway from awareness to happily ever after. I hope you enjoy reading Bailey and Ethan’s journey to love as much as I’ve enjoyed helping them overcome the odds to get there.

Hugs,

Jennifer

What a Girl Wants

Jennifer Snow

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JENNIFER SNOWhas been writing fairy tales with happy endings from a very young age, and she is excited to be sharing her new small-town contemporary series with her fans. Living in Edmonton, Alberta, with her husband and three-year-old son, she is dedicated to creating lasting, heartfelt romances that readers can share with those they love. Visit www.JenniferSnowBooks.com.

Acknowledgments

Thank you as always to my family, my agent, Stephany Evans, and my editor, Victoria Curran—whose encouragement and support make it possible for me to realize this dream.

Also, a special thank-you to Richard Hynes of the St. John’s Regional Fire Department and Trevor Zawaski of Edmonton Fire Rescue for their much-appreciated assistance in my research for this book.

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 ONE

FEW SIGHTS IN Brookhollow, New Jersey, were as jaw-dropping as the scene taking place in front of fire station number five: fire truck washing day. Watching five of the twelve firefighters, shirtless and a little sweaty, soaping up and hosing off the big red engines was by far the highlight of any summer’s day in the small town.

Cutting the engine of her cherry-red Kawasaki Ninja, Bailey Sheppard removed her helmet, letting her dark hair cascade over her shoulders. She swung her leg over the bike and, tucking the helmet under her arm, unlatched her tool kit from the back of the motorcycle. Squinting in the bright, early-morning sunlight, she weighed her options. Should she attempt to enter through the open bay doors or go around to the side entrance?

Knowing she’d never make it through the front bay doors where the men were working without getting drenched with the freezing water, she jogged unnoticed around the big brick building. The dousing would be refreshing, but her dark blue coveralls with her name embroidered on the left front pocket would take forever to dry, even in the blazing August heat.

A long line of women waited at the door and Bailey hid a smile as she approached. It was almost nine o’clock on the first Friday of the month, the day the fire hall provided free blood pressure and cholesterol screening. The Bishop brothers, Jim and Ethan, had set up the free program after their grandfather had experienced a series of strokes the year before. Like many seniors in the community, he’d neglected to visit the local medical clinic regularly, and his high blood pressure had gone undetected.

The fire hall’s staff was continually looking for ways to give back to the community. While there were always a few women, young and old, waiting to be checked at the free screening, today there was quite a lineup. Bailey suspected some of the blood pressure results were going to be a little higher than usual. Brookhollow’s local heroes were as handsome as they were brave. Having grown up with them in the small New Jersey town of less than ten thousand residents, she’d dated most of them at one time or another throughout their junior high and high school years, all except Ethan Bishop—the one she wanted.

Pushing through the west door to the fire hall, she entered the main office where the fire chief, Ken Clarke, sat behind his desk. An open box of doughnuts was within arm’s reach and white confectioners’ sugar covered his top lip. Quite a contrast to the image of his twentysomething self still hanging on the wall with the rest of the staff photos. New shots of the twelve-member crew were taken yearly. Well, everyone except Ken, who preferred the image of his younger self.

He stood as she approached. “Hey, Bailey, you here to get your heart racing—” he pointed to the shirtless men washing trucks outside “—or checked?” With a grin, he nodded toward the fully uniformed men running the free clinic. With two of the fire trucks outside, they’d transformed the big open bays into a makeshift medical facility.

Derek Johnson, the newest recruit, handed out the prescreening questionnaire and waiver to a group of sitting women who were waiting the required five minutes to allow their heart rate to settle before testing. Mark Adams took blood pressure readings in the fire hall’s dining area several feet away. He waved at her.

“Neither,” Bailey said, smiling as she leaned her hip against the desk. “Why aren’t you outside helping?”

Ken shook his head. “My days of six-pack abs and bulging biceps are over, I’m afraid. No one wants to see this out there.” Rubbing his large stomach, he shuddered.

“That’s the truth,” Mark called from his post, where he secured the blood pressure cuff around Mrs. Norris’s arm.

The older woman, the owner of Ginger Snaps, the bakery on Main Street, shot Chief Clarke a look that suggested he was past his prime, though Bailey suspected Ginger Norris was at least ten years his senior.

“You looking to get assigned nightshift duty, Adams?” Ken warned.

“You can’t. I’ve had nights for three weeks now. Tonight is my first one off and the beginning of a rotation of days.” Mark removed the cuff and recorded the reading on a wallet card for Ginger. He handed it to her and accepted her hug, before gathering her purse and jacket for her.

“Are you sure about that?” Ken asked, checking the rotation schedule on the pegboard behind him, which was covered with pictures of his grandchildren. To say he was a proud grandfather would be an understatement.

“Positive.”

“Darn,” Ken muttered. “Well, that doesn’t prevent me from putting you on bathroom duties.”

“You already put Craig on bathroom duty for pouring salt in the sugar dish in the lunchroom last week, remember?”