If accepting the position at Station 1 had been a mistake, allowing himself to spend more time around Rachel Hoffman could prove to be an even bigger one. He didn’t need a career in firefighting to remind him that those who played with fire got burned.
Chapter 5
That afternoon, Rachel rubbed her hands together to warm them, determined not to start her minivan’s engine again for at least ten minutes. Poor dog owners, whose pets still expected walks during snow showers, had already sent curious glances her way as they’d passed. She couldn’t afford to draw more attention to herself, looking like a stalker. One without the good sense to choose better weather.
Her window of time was closing fast. School let out in eighty-four minutes, and she couldn’t be late to get in line in the pickup lane. Again. That she’d been out helping Riley every time she was tardy made no difference. Even if she arrived early every afternoon through the end of the school year, she would never make it off the parent naughty list.
If she didn’t need Mick’s help, then what was she doing here, parked outside his new apartment on the off chance he would stop by for supplies? Mick probably hadn’t even rushed in to work last night’s fire. Riley would have. Her dad would have. Both had been too dedicated to leave their crew in the lurch when they could help. That didn’t mean this outsider would have missed a minute of beauty sleep to start his job early.
Rachel glanced up and down the street again, past cars that were slowly disappearing beneath a speckled blanket of snow. She wouldn’t need to see an out-of-state license plate to identify his midnight-blue quad-cab since she’d taken note of it in the station’s parking lot last night. Only he wasn’t there and probably wouldn’t be before she had to leave.
“Forget it. I don’t know why I thought—”
Why had she allowed herself to believe for an instant that the new chief might be concerned about her brother or her daughters or her? More proof of her inability to judge the decency in people. She’d already allowed ideas Mick had planted in her head to make her overreact to Riley’s emails. Would he have her imagining spies next as they peeked out through closed curtains and hid arsenals in their kitchens like inMr. & Mrs. Smith?
In quick, angry moves, she twisted the ignition and put the van in gear. As she started to pull away from the curb, she glanced in her rearview mirror and noticed someone approaching on the sidewalk. A man, she determined from the heavy stomps and wide frame, bent against the wind. No dog in sight, and no one without one would have been caught dead walking in this weather. He wore a hooded sweatshirt beneath his coat, its strings pulled so tight that only a fist-size section of his face remained exposed. Like he wanted to avoid being identified.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood, and a chill sauntered down both arms, her body ignoring that earlier dismissal of her concerns. Her thigh shook as she continued to press down on the brake, the engine idling. Was the guy following her? On foot? In this slippery mix?
Oblivious to her questions, the man started up the walk to the brick apartment building. That coat and the broad-shouldered shape of the person inside it suddenly looked familiar. As if Rachel needed more hints to his identity, her chilled hands beneath her gloves suddenly felt clammy. She shifted into Park and shut off the engine.
The bundled walker glanced back at the sound then continued toward the building. She pushed the door wide. “Prentiss, wait!”
Mick, who’d just been waving a key fob in front of a sensor for building access, turned and stared at the open van door.
“Rachel, is that you?” His words produced a white conversation bubble in the mist.
Instead of waiting for her to answer, he hurried down the walk, forced to catch himself as he lost his footing on slick spots. She had only enough time to climb out and close the door before he crossed the street and met her outside the minivan.
“Hey, Prentiss.” Her teeth chattered as the wet wind seeped through her coat and hat.
He yanked on the strings to untie his hood and shoved it back. “Since you’re showing up at my home now, you should start calling me Mick.”
His lips spread in the kind of sexy smile that probably made other women’s knees buckle. She locked hers instead.
“I shouldn’t have come.”
The smile vanished. “Is everything okay? You? The girls?” He cleared his throat. “Your…brother?”
“Everyone’s fine,” she said and then swallowed. He was concerned about Riley? Actually, her brother hadn’t called her in days, and she had no way of knowing how he was doing.
“Then why are you here?” He gestured to the number above the door on his building. “And how did you get my address?”
“Ever lived in a small town?” When he shook his head, she said, “You’ll soon learn that everyone knowseverythingabout everyone else.”
His brows pulled together, further creasing the line already forming between them. She couldn’t blame him for questioning her statement. If she knew all of her fellow residents’ secrets, she wouldn’t have been searching for answers.
“You still haven’t—” he began and then shrugged. “Want to come in? There’s no place to sit down except an air mattress with a sleeping bag spread over it, but I can’t stay out here. I’m freezing. Aren’t you?”
She shivered as her gaze shifted from him to the building and back. Alone with Mick Prentiss in his apartment? On an air mattress? Since a two-child buffer hadn’t been enough to keep her hormones in check last night, she decided the cold would be a better choice. Aborting her plan to share what she’d discovered with him would be the best one.
“Sorry to have bothered you.” She opened the car door.
“Hold on, Rachel.”
Slowly, she turned to face him.
“You came here instead of the station for a reason. Maybe you found something that you didn’t want my crew to know about. Or you didn’t want anyone to be aware that you’d spoken to me again. Which is it?”
