Chapter 2
EJ
The key to a woman's heart is
an unexpected gift at an unexpected time.
~ Sean Connery, Finding Forrester
The asphalt of the parking lot behind our historic brick fire station is dotted with puddles from last night’s rain. I park my truck next to Champ’s car and walk in the back door.
Since Bordeaux is a smaller town, we don’t work a normal firefighter rotation. I’m here eight to five on weekdays and off most weekends unless I’m called in to back up during an emergency. Even though we don’t usually sleep here, the second floor has bunks and a workout room—all the usual setup of a fire station that housed firefighters over the past century. We even have a pole.
As a kid, when I told my parents I wanted to be a fireman when I grew up, I think the idea of spinning down a pole and hopping into a loud truck with sirens and lights blaring was one of the strongest appeals.
I walk upstairs. Mack, the guy we affectionately call Truck, is sitting at the table in our lounge. He’s holding a muffin and his mouth is full.
“Champ’s wife baked,” he says around a bite.
“She’s a keeper,” Champ says, then he grins at the thought of her.
“I figure any man who marries his high school sweetheart and still sings her praises eighteen years later is one of the luckiest men on earth,” Truck says.
“Nineteen,” Champ says, “And you’re not wrong. Ginger definitely is my better half.”
“No argument there,” I say, grabbing a muffin.
“Hey,” Champ says, laughing. “Don’t agree with me so quickly.”
“When’s the last time you baked for me?” I ask.
“Hmph.” Champ nods. “Guess you’ve got a point.”
“How’s Angie after the fire scare?” Truck asks me, polishing off his last bite and dusting the crumbs from his hands.
“How would I know?” My voice sounds defensive, even to my own ears.
Truck just chuckles. “Ask her out already.”
“Like I haven’t?” I remind him.
“Squeaky wheel gets the grease,” he says.
“Or gets replaced by a wheel that doesn’t squeak,” I retort. “I’m in this for the long game. She’s a single mom. I don’t want to run her off with my pestering.”
“There’s an art to pursuing a woman,” Champ says.
“How would you know?” Truck says with a laugh. “You asked Ginger to prom and that was all she wrote.”
“You think my wife would be baking us muffins if I didn’t know a thing or two about making her happy?”
“Maybe she just likes baking,” Truck says. “But you’reprobably right.” Truck picks up another muffin. “So tell us, O Wise One. What’s the secret to romancing a woman?”
Champ purses his lips and fakes stroking his beard as if it’s a foot long. Then his face goes serious again. “Pursuing a woman is a fine balance between chasing and stepping back. Kind of like a dance.”
Truck laughs. “No offense, Champ. Just, have you seen our boy EJ dance?”
Champ laughs too. “I’ve seen it.”
