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The Firefighter Next Door An Age Gap Single Dad Romance

Olivia Mack

Copyright © 2023 by Olivia Mack - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

All rights reserved.

Respective author own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

"Cover is done by Getcovers,"

Contents

1. Chapter 1: Elle 2. Chapter 2: Jax 3. Chapter 3: Elle 4. Chapter 4: Jax 5. Chapter 5: Elle 6. Chapter 6: Jax 7. Chapter 7: Elle 8. Chapter 8: Jax 9. Chapter 9: Elle 10. Chapter 10: Jax 11. Chapter 11: Elle 12. Chapter 12: Jax

13. Chapter 13: Jax 14. Chapter 14: Elle 15. Chapter 15: Jax 16. Chapter 16: Elle 17. Chapter 17: Jax 18. Chapter 18: Elle 19. Chapter 19: Jax 20. Chapter 20: Elle 21. Chapter 21: Jax 22. Chapter 22: Elle 23. Chapter 23: Jax 24. More By Olivia Mack 25. About the Author,

Chapter 1: Elle

M

y lawyer, Beth Ann, hands me a folder full of papers, slips a bag with extra keys into my hand, and shoots me a knowing

smirk. “That’s all there is to it. Congratulations! You’re a homeowner.”

I laugh, and the blood rushes to my cheeks. “Thanks for all your help. This is a dream come true.”

Beth Ann nods at the house behind me. “Now you can start living the dream. See you later! Call me if you need anything.”

I stand on the porch of my new house just long enough to watch her get in her car, wave one more time, and drive away. Now I’m all alone in the house I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl. I go inside, lock the front door behind me, and breathe a deep sigh of relief as I survey my new home.

The sweeping polished banister and velvet-carpeted stairs lead to the second floor. The glowing wooden floors, the carved plaster

ceilings—this house is everything I dreamed it would be, and now it’s all mine.

I inhale another deep breath of furniture polish, carpet, and new upholstery. Every detail of the house fills me with pride and joy. I actually pulled it off. I bought the house of my dreams, the one I had imagined. The movers have done a great job finishing up early.

I pick up my notebook and fountain pen and follow the hall to the back door. I step out onto the porch, sit in my favorite Adirondack chair, and survey the magnificent garden spreading before me. This is going to be the perfect place for me to write my next great novel.

I take the cap off my pen. I’m just getting ready to unleash a torrent of words in my notebook when a subtle click makes me look up. The gate at the bottom corner of the garden swings open from the other side. I stare in amazement as a young girl enters my garden without asking, but I’m too fascinated to say anything. She can’t be more than ten, and she glows with health, happiness, and youthful curiosity.

Her features light up when she sees the garden, even though the place has gotten seriously overgrown while on the market. She shuts the gate and heads along the fence to the apple tree loaded with fruit. She takes a basket from her arm, starts picking apples, and puts them in the basket. She looks so happy and childlike in this garden—almost like she belongs there. I have to go talk to her.

I walk up to her, but she isn’t alarmed that she got caught trespassing on someone else’s property. She smiles at me. “Hi. I hope you don’t mind me coming over to pick apples.”

“I don’t mind. I’m Elle,” I tell her. “Do you live next door?”

She nods. “I’m Georgia. I knew old Mrs. Bentley. She owned this house before you, and I always helped her in the garden. We used to pick apples and make applesauce together. I would come over and spend the afternoons with her all the time. It was really sad when she died.”

She doesn’t look sad. She looks like she doesn’t know what sad is.

She keeps smiling in something close to ecstasy while she plucks apples off the tree and places them in the basket. I find myself drifting to her side and doing the same thing. I’ve been looking forward to getting out into the garden. This girl gives me a perfect excuse to do it.

“You and I could make applesauce after we pick these,” I suggest.

“That would be great!” She laughs and sunbeams radiate from her angelic face. “Mrs. Bentley used to keep half, and I used to take the other half home. I used to eat that applesauce on my pancakes every Saturday morning.”

“That sounds delicious. Are you sure you don’t have anything else to do this afternoon? I wouldn’t want to interfere with your schedule.”

She makes a face and smirks. “I do have homework, but I usually do it after dinner. I always have time to make applesauce.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Who doesn’t? Do you have brothers and sisters? Who do you live with?” I look toward the old gate. The garden fence blocks any view of the house next door. I can’t see much besides the roof.

“It’s just me and my…….”

She breaks off when the gate swings open and a tall, muscular man steps through from next door. He has crystal clear blue eyes, some salt-and-pepper gray in his hair, and a neatly trimmed beard.

But he has the body of a much younger man. He wears a dark blue T-shirt with the Fire Department logo on the front. That T-shirt leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination about how much muscle he has and hiding underneath.

He takes one look at me and turns to Georgia. “I told you not to come over here, sweetie. I’m really sorry, ma’am. I told her not to bother you. I promise it won’t happen again.”

He takes hold of Georgia’s elbow and tries to lead her to the gate.

She resists and almost spills her basket. “Dad! I wasn’t doing anything….!”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “We were having a wonderful time. She’s welcome anytime.”

“That’s really nice of you, but I wouldn’t want her to intrude on your privacy.”

“She wasn’t intruding….and neither are you. Seriously, she’s welcome to stay. You both are. We are going to be neighbors, so there is nothing wrong with getting to know each other. We were just going to make applesauce.”

“Thanks, but she has homework. Come on, sweetheart.”

He starts pulling her away again; and when she kicks up a fuss, he tightens his grip and frowns. “Dad!” she cries. “I don’t have to do my homework until later! You said yourself that I had a few hours to do what I want.”

She tries to reach the tree again, but he isn’t having any of it. He takes the basket off her arm with his other hand and tips the apples onto the ground. “I told you not to come over here uninvited. These apples aren’t yours to just take whenever you want. Now come on.”

He nods at me. “Thanks. Sorry about this.”

He tows her through the gate and changes his tone before it even closes. “How many times do I have to tell you? She’s not Mrs. Bentley. She’s a stranger, and you can’t just invite yourself on her property.”

“It wasn’t like that, Dad!” she exclaims. “She was really nice and said herself that I could come over anytime. She even offered to make applesauce with me if I didn’t have anything else to do.”

“She was just being polite. You can’t take a total stranger’s word within minutes of meeting them. Besides, you already invited yourself into her yard. What was she going to do—call the police on you? She could have. She would have been within her rights to get you in big trouble for going over there.”

Georgia lowers her voice to a pathetic whimper. “So…I can never go over there—not ever?”

“Not now. You have to wait until you get to know her better. At least give her a chance to settle into her new house. She’s only been here for a few hours. Wait until she gets to know us better. She might invite you over when she’s ready.”

“How am I supposed to get to know her better if I don’t visit her?”

“That’s up to her. Have a little respect for another person’s space.

I’m sure she didn’t move into that house so the neighborhood kid could roll up on the very same day.”

Georgia mutters something under her breath, but she doesn’t argue. Their voices fade getting farther away and they eventually disappear into their own house. I wait under the apple tree and listen, but they don’t come back.

I was really enjoying Georgia’s visit. I am deflated now that she’s gone. I wish her father hadn’t interfered, but I guess I see his point… and OH MY!! her Dad!! I mean, seriously, wow! He’s incredibly good looking. Just the thought of him makes me break a sweat. Again, no ordinary person would want the neighborhood in their backyard within hours of moving into a new house, and she did come over without asking.

I guess I’m not an ordinary person. I really wish she was still here, even with her dad. I smile. I don’t feel like picking apples without her. Fortunately, I still have my pen and notebook, not to mention a head full of ideas. I make a pouch in my shirt, gather the apples into it, and carry them up to the house. I put them on the kitchen counter, go back out to the porch, sit down in my chair, and pick up my notebook. Now where was I?

Chapter 2: Jax

A

deafening alarm blares in my ears. It blocks out all sound, but my mask and protective helmet muffle enough of the noise

such that it doesn’t split my eardrums. It still prevents me from hearing anything else, including the voices of the other guys on my team.

I hold on to my nearest teammate’s hand and search with my other hand while I grope around in a pitch-dark room. Our team stays connected to each other in a long line while we range out over the invisible landscape.

The guy in front of me tugs me forward, and I crawl over the floor.

I sweep in all directions, searching for the body hidden in this room.

I gasp for air and force myself to exhale all the way before I take another breath. My mask and respirator force compressed oxygen into my lungs. I have to be careful or I’ll pass out from hyperventilation.

My team drags me forward a few more feet. I sweep one more time. This is taking way too long; but just when I prepare to change my strategy, my buddy next to me squeezes my arm. Great! They found the body.

My team pulls me forward, and we wedge ourselves into a tiny room off the main training hall. I work my way in, and my teammates direct me to a body sprawled on the kitchen floor. The victim is lying face down, not moving. My team surrounds the person, and we each grab a handful of the victim’s clothes. Our team leader goes first, following the wall through the dark hall. We don’t have to worry now about getting separated in the dark. We’re all holding onto the same body.

We crawl back the way we came, and a brilliant square of light beams into the hall when a door opens. We drag the body clear and dump it on the floor. Our team leader springs to his feet, strips off his mask and ventilator, raises both arms, and yells, “Time!”

A bunch of other firefighters stand around laughing and applauding as my teammates and I stand up. We pull off our sweaty masks and start turning off our regulators. Max Rolstead slaps me on the back. “Six minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Chief. Not too shabby, but not good enough to take first prize.”

“Let’s see you do better, champ.” I turn to the victim, who is getting to his feet and joking around with the other guys. “You need to lose some weight, Jimmy. You’re slowing us all down.”

“You can be the victim for our team next, Chief,” he teases. “It would take four teams working together to pull you out of that kitchen.”

The whole group bursts out laughing. Jokes fly thick and fast. I have to raise my voice to be heard over the noise. “Next team, get suited up and into position. I’m your victim thanks to your pal Jimmy here.”

Everyone laughs, but before we can organize the next training run, Paul Wilcox sticks his head into the training room. “Chief— phone call in your office!”

“Take a message!” I yell back. “We’re in the middle of training here.”

“I tried that, but she says it’s urgent.”

“Who is she?” I ask.

“Someone from the Police Department. I didn’t catch her name.”

“Please tell me she doesn’t belong to the public relations department.”

Max claps me on the back again. “That’s why you get paid the big bucks, Chief. You sweet-talk all the girls from the public relations department so we don’t have to.”

“At least we’ll have a lighter victim.” Jimmy pumps his fist. “Yes!” I roll my eyes and groan. Some public relations snowflake from the Police Department is the last thing I need right now, and I guarantee that it isn’t urgent.

I drag myself back to my office. Max is right. This is why I get paid the big bucks and it’s hardly worth it. I pick up the phone. “Fire Chief Jax Owens speaking.”

A steady, low, calm female voice answers. It doesn’t sound like a public relations snowflake at all. “Good morning, Chief. This is

Sergeant Alexis Phelps. I’m an officer with the Davenport Police Department.”

Every hair stands up on the back of my neck. Something’s wrong.

A regular police officer wouldn’t call me in the middle of the workday if something wasn’t wrong. “What can I do for you, Sergeant?”

“I’m at the Davenport Hospital Emergency Room, Chief. Your daughter Georgia was involved in a car accident outside the….”

“I’m on my way right now!” I slam the phone down without waiting to hear anymore. I stop just long enough to grab my wallet, cell phone, and car keys.

I march down to the training room on my way out of the firehouse. “Take over,” I tell Max. “I gotta go.”

“Hey!” he yells after me. “Where are you going? We’re in the middle of training here!”

“Family emergency!” I yell over my shoulder. “I’ll call you later.”

I hop in my car and burn rubber to the Emergency Room. Damn it. Nothing better have happened to Georgia. What the hell was she doing out on the street at this time of day, anyway? She should have been at her afterschool gymnastics practice. She’s too responsible to be playing around in the street. If I find out anybody did anything to hurt her, I’ll hunt the bastard down. No one messes with my little girl.

I skid into a parking place and barge into the Emergency Room. I accost the first nurse I find, who tells me where Georgia is. I get more and more agitated as I make my way deeper into the hospital.

Is she in emergency surgery? Is she in ICU? I can’t deal with the strain, and all my anxiety turns to rage when I find her room.

She is lying on a hospital bed with bruises all over her arms, but it’s the person standing next to her that really makes my blood boil.

It’s that lady from next door—Elle. Georgia told me her name. What the hell is she doing here?

I storm into the room and walk right up to my new next-door neighbor. “What do you think you’re doing here? Did you do this to my daughter? I swear if you did anything to her, I’ll make sure you pay for it. We’ve been living in that house for more than ten years, and we thought we had a really nice neighborhood. You know, I was worried about some irresponsible person moving into Mrs. Bentley’s house, and now….”

She just stands there looking at me like I’m blowing sunshine out of my ass. “Actually, I wasn’t the person who did this to your daughter. I was sitting on my front porch trying to write when I heard a scream. Your daughter was climbing the apple tree to reach the top branches, and the branch beneath her feet snapped, causing her to fall. I rushed to the back, and she was on the ground near the tree scratched up and in pain. I was unsure of the extent of her injuries, I panicked and got so scared, so I called for an ambulance..

Georgia seemed to be shaken by the fall, in pain, and scared after what happened, I didn’t know what to do as I said, so I stayed with her and rode with her to the hospital. She asked me to stay until you got here….which is why I’m here.”

I glare down at her, fuming. I want to go off on her again, but she’s acting so calm and reasonable that I can’t think of anything to say. Her words start to sink into my brain, and I realize what a fool I

am for shooting off my mouth. I should have cooled down before I came in here. I was just too worked up over Georgia getting hurt.

Elle smiles even more broadly when she sees me scrambling to say something. She sticks out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Elle Donnelly, your next-door neighbor.”

“Yeah…I know…” I stammer.

She bursts into a huge grin and sticks her hand out farther. “Now you tell me your name.”

“Oh.” I frown at her hand trying to figure out what to do. Now I really feel like an idiot. “I’m Jax…Jax Owens.”

“The police officer who took my statement said you’re the fire chief in town.” She extends her hand even closer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh.” I furrow my brow a little more. Am I really that much of a gorilla?” It’s nice to meet you, too.” I finally manage to shake her hand. She couldn’t look more delighted. She even looks delighted that I accused her of hurting my daughter.

I have to admit that Elle is a lot more attractive than I’m comfortable with. She’s about five inches shorter than me and has incredibly wild, messy, curly chestnut hair and impish green eyes.

She can’t be over thirty, so I shouldn’t even be thinking of her in the same thought as the word, “attractive”. She’s young enough to be my daughter, maybe—well, maybe not that young, but way too young for me.

I clear my throat with difficulty. “Um…sorry about…all that…”

“Forget it, I understand.” Her eyes sparkle in a way that says she really does understand. I don’t want to know how a woman that

young understands what it’s like to have a kid.

Her being so nice about this really isn’t making it easy for me at all. “So…what happened?”

“Just what I said. She fell off the tree and called an ambulance.

The doctor was just in here and said that Georgia has a concussion, but no broken bones. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Well….” I glance over at Georgia. “I guess I’ll take over from here. Thank you for….”

“No!” Georgia tries to sit up, stretches her hand toward Elle and collapses onto the pillows. “Don’t leave, Elle! Stay! Please!”

Elle goes over to the bed and takes Georgia’s hand. I would have to be blind not to see the way Georgia is looking at Elle—and vice versa. I wouldn’t think the two of them meeting for five minutes under the apple tree would make them such good friends s fast, but the evidence is right in front of me.

I haven’t seen Georgia look at a woman like that since…well, ever.

She didn’t even bond with Mrs. Bentley like that. and those two were best friends. I love my daughter, and I’m not in the business of tormenting her by taking away the things she likes. I don’t want Elle in the same room with Georgia, but I don’t have the heart to tell Elle to take a long walk off a short pier, which is what I’d like to do.

I go over to Georgia’s bed, too, but I make sure to do it on the opposite side. Standing next to her would look too much like we were a couple or something. No way. I can’t even take Georgia’s other hand now that Elle is doing it. “What were you doing coming home so early, sweetie? You should have gone to gymnastics.”

“I did, but the fire alarm went off at the gym. They had to evacuate the building and they sent everyone home.”

I frown and stammer, “That’s weird. I should have heard about the alarm going off.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should call you, but then I remembered you had training and wouldn’t have your phone with you. I got home, but then I saw the apple tree. you know how much I love that tree, Dad. I went to check the apples and, oh Dad! There are so many apples on top of the tree, and I just wanted to grab some. That’s all. I have climbed that tree before when Mrs. Bentley was here. I never fell then, so I just wanted to reach the top ones this time.”

I glance over at Elle; she looks up at me at the same time. Why am I fighting Georgia getting to know Elle? She’s our next-door neighbor. Georgia used to go over to Mrs. Bentley’s all the time after school when I wasn’t around. It got to be a regular thing if Georgia had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do.

Why couldn’t it be that way with Elle? I don’t want it to. I don’t want to trust this stranger in case it comes back to bite me in the backside. I’d rather not go there if I can possibly avoid it. I really should be more grateful and less defensive, but I can’t bring myself to let my guard down. Elle Donnelly is going to have to do a lot more than call an ambulance for Georgia to make me trust her.

She gets the message loud and clear, and squeezes Georgia’s hand. “I better go. Your dad will make sure you get home safely. I’ll see you soon.” She bends down and kisses Georgia on the forehead.

“I meant what I said. You’re welcome to come over to my place anytime you want. You don’t need an invitation.”

“Don’t leave, Elle!” Georgia tries to pull her back.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll be all right.” Elle turns back to me. “I meant what I said about being welcome to come over. We’re neighbors and we should get to know each other. You are welcome anytime.” She cracks a crazy grin. “You know, I like applesauce on my pancakes, too. But you can’t climb that tree every again.”

Georgia giggles. “Can we, Dad? Can we pick the apples and make applesauce? We’re almost out of last year’s batch.”

I shrug. I try to keep my attention on Georgia and not to look at Elle, but I find it impossible not to look at her anyway. “I don’t know.

I’ll think about it.”

“Let me know what you decide.” Elle pulls away, smiles at both of us, and walks out.

Chapter 3: Elle

I

pull a cardboard box out of my bag and let it fall with a heavy thunk on my agent’s desk. “Here you go—the full manuscript.

It’s all ready to go.”

“Wow!” my agent Roxanne Elliot breathes. “You are so fast, Elle! I can’t keep up with your speed.”

I have to laugh. “Don’t tell anybody, but I’m already starting on my next one.”

“I won’t tell anybody. Just let me know when you finish it. In the meantime, I better get started reading this one.” She opens the box and starts turning the pages. She pauses when she starts to read the opening paragraphs.

“Do you want me to sit here and wait while you read it?”

She bursts out laughing and tears herself away from the book.

“You’ve got me hooked already. I’m going to have to turn off my phone until I finish.”

“Call me when you find a publisher.” I get to my feet and head for the door. “I have a book at home waiting for me to write it.”

Roxanne leaves her desk to walk me out. “We won’t have any trouble finding a publisher. I’m sure Wexford Books will want to take anything else you put out. They’ve already published your last three books. Susan Barnes told me she wanted the right of first refusal on your next work.”

“That makes it easy. Do you need me to stick around for anything?”

“No way! Get that next book written, baby! We have an insatiable public waiting for all those crazy ideas in your head. Get home and write!”

I laugh with her and give her a fake military salute. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll get right on it.”

We both laugh, and she hugs me before I leave her office. It’s nice to be wanted and not have to wait for years to find a publisher.

I can just relax and concentrate on doing what I love, which is writing books. I hang my bag over my shoulder and head for the parking lot. My new dream house and my nice peaceful garden are waiting for me. Just thinking about writing on my porch makes me indescribably happy.

The last couple of days have been unusually busy with all the work of moving in and then dealing with Georgia falling from the tree. I haven’t really had the quiet time I’ve been craving. Now’s my chance to unplug and really get my creative juices flowing. I pull out my car keys on my way across the parking lot. I unlock the driver’s

door, get behind the wheel, and turn the motor, but I freeze when I scan the driveway to pull out onto the street.

Georgia stands on the sidewalk across the street in front of me.

She looks right and left up and down the street and her features pinch. She looks lost…and scared. Bruises and scratches still cover her arms from the fall, although they aren’t as bright as a week ago.

She definitely looks anxious. She looks like she’s somewhere she isn’t supposed to be and doesn’t know what to do about it. I can’t ignore that frightened expression.

I switch off the car and go over to her. “Georgia! Are you okay?

Are you lost?”

“Oh, my gosh—Elle! Thank goodness you’re here!” she gasps and grabs my arm in a death grip. “I am in so much trouble! I don’t know what to do!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you work it out. What’s going on? What are you doing out here?”

“I just finished soccer practice at the community center.” She waves at a large building at the end of the block. I didn’t even notice it until she draws my attention to it. “I was supposed to carpool home with the mother of a girl on my team. The lady was here during practice, and I saw her in the locker room with her daughter… but now she’s gone. I think she might have left without me, and now I’m stranded!”

Her expression twists even more, and her voice cracks like she might start crying. She clings to my arm with a white-knuckle grip.

“Okay, darling,” I murmur. “You don’t have to worry. I have my car right here. I can drive you home. Come on. Where’s your stuff?”

She grabs her bag from the sidewalk at her feet, slings the bag over her shoulder, and starts following me. “Dad is going to be so mad!”

I stiffen. “He better not be. This isn’t your fault.”

“He’ll be mad at the lady who was supposed to drive me home,” she explains. “He won’t be mad at me.”

“Are you sure about that?” I choose my next words carefully.

“Does your dad get mad a lot?”

“It isn’t like that. He’s just really protective. He only gets mad when he thinks someone is going to do something to me…or when they do do something to me—like now.”

I let it go. What do I really know about Jax, anyway? I can’t judge someone I know nothing about. He’s a little intense – even very intense – but I don’t know anything about his life, so I stop.

He got mad at Georgia for coming into my yard, but that was after he specifically told her not to. Other than that, I’ve only seen him mad at the hospital. I can understand why he might have been out of his right mind thinking I put his daughter in the hospital.

I need to reserve judgment until I get to know him better. I can’t go jumping to conclusions about the way he treats his daughter. He’s been nothing but reasonable, caring, and attentive to Georgia in my presence, even when he was telling her off for doing something he told her not to do.

I make up my mind to keep an eye on the situation next door. If he is blowing his stack at Georgia for things she can’t control, I might have to intervene. No one is going to mistreat this girl as long as I’m around.

I pause at the curb to check for cross traffic and spot a police officer nearby. He’s wearing a full uniform and rests his hand on the billy club at his belt while his eyes Georgia and me.

She tugs my arm. “Let’s get out of here, Elle,” she whimpers.

“Why? Are you worried about the officer?”

“My dad knows everyone in the Police Department. I don’t want to have to explain anything to that guy.”

“I’m sure the office and your dad would understand if they knew the situation. Maybe we should call your dad and tell him that I’m driving you home.”

“NO!!” Georgia bursts out and grabs my arm again. “Come on, Elle. Let’s just go.”

She hangs onto me for dear life. The officer keeps glaring at us while we cross the street to my car. I put Georgia and her bag in the front passenger seat and drive across town.

“That was a close one,” I say on our way back to our own neighborhood. “I’ve had more to do with the police in the last week than I’ve ever had in my life.”

Georgia passes her hand across her eyes. “I hang out with them at Fire Department barbeques and stuff, but that’s different from meeting one of them out on the street. I like them the other way better.”

“Your dad is sure highly thought of in this town. Everyone knows him. Everyone thinks he’s a hero.”

“Yeah,” Georgia mutters. “I know.”

“Where’s the rest of your family? How come you two live all alone?

Is your mom around?”

“No. She died a long time ago.”

“Oh, that’s sad,” I remark. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. She died when I was a baby. I don’t remember her at all.”

I take my eyes off the road for a second and almost forget to look where I’m driving. “You don’t know what happened to her? Didn’t your dad tell you?”

“He never talks about her, and I don’t like to bring it up. It just upsets him.”

I don’t say anything. Wow. Whatever happened to Georgia’s mother must have hit Jax hard. Maybe she died of some illness, an accident, or from complications of childbirth. Now he’s raising his daughter alone. That has to be tough.

We ride in silence until we get to our neighborhood. Georgia breaks the silence by groaning. “Now comes the hard part.”

“I’ll walk you home.” I suggest. “I better be the one to tell your dad what’s going on and why you’re riding in my car.”

Georgia giggles. “You’re brave.”

“If he’s going to get mad at someone, I’d rather have him get mad at me than you.”

“Okay. You can if you want to, but you don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to.” I park in front of my house and we both get out. “Come on. Let’s go slay the dragon.”

Chapter 4: Jax

I

almost drop my wooden spoon when the doorbell rings. Instead, I splash spaghetti sauce on the back of my hand and curse when

it burns me. I scramble to run my hand under cold water, turn down the burner, and make sure the spoon is safely on the counter before I race off to answer the door.

I freeze when I see Elle standing on my porch with Georgia at her side. What the holy hell is that woman doing with my daughter again? That knowing look in Elle’s eyes is really starting to get on my nerves. She shouldn’t be able to read my thoughts so easily, although the smoke billowing out of my ears probably gives it away.

“Hi, Jax,” she breezes.

“Hello,” I growl more menacingly than I should.

“You go on inside, Georgia,” Elle murmurs. “I’ll explain everything to your dad.”

Georgia bolts past me and vanishes upstairs before full nuclear Armageddon strikes. I wait until her bedroom door closes before I

trust myself to speak. “What’s going on?”

“I was in town and spotted Georgia standing on the sidewalk outside the community center. It seems that the woman who was supposed to drive Georgia home from soccer forgot her when she left, so I gave Georgia a ride home.”

I can’t think what to say, so I do the right thing for once by not saying anything. I’m having a hard time meeting Elle’s eye. She can see plain as day that I suspected her again when she’s just trying to help—again.

I really need to wake up and smell the coffee. She might be a good neighbor. Okay, she is a good neighbor. She might even be a better neighbor than Mrs. Bentley, and that’s saying something.

That’s twice Elle has rescued Georgia. Mrs. Bentley never did that.

She reads my thoughts again. “Anyway, I’ll just head on home.

Georgia was worried about you being really mad about this so don’t get mad about it, okay? It wasn’t her fault.” She turns away. “See you later.”

“Elle!” I blurt out.

She turns back and raises her eyebrows. I shrug and wave at nothing. How did I get this awkward? She’s just my neighbor. “I was just making dinner. Do you want to come in?”

She bursts into one of her massive grins. “Sure! I thought you’d never ask.”

I race back to the kitchen just in time to save the spaghetti sauce from burning. I stir it and lower the temperature some more before I realize that Elle has wandered into my living room. I was rude to just leave her standing by the open front door. She shuts it behind her,

and when I look up, she’s meandering in front of the fireplace mantel, looking at our family pictures. I realize with a pang that she’s looking at pictures of me and my late wife, Anya, with Georgia when she was a baby.

I pretend not to see while I run water into a pot to boil the pasta.

“I, uh, thank you,” I blather. “I appreciate you helping Georgia and thank you for taking her to the hospital last week. I was too stupid to thank you then so…thank you.”

She smiles and starts checking out the books on the shelf. “You bet. I meant what I said about Georgia coming over to my place. If you have any trouble finding a place for her to go after school, she can always come to my house. I’m sure we can waste hours making applesauce or whatever else is in season, as long as she doesn’t climb the tree again.”

I look up to find her smiling at me. Her eyes are way too understanding; that look makes me uncomfortable. What was I thinking inviting her into my house? This is a disaster waiting to happen. I don’t know what to say, I don’t even know how to look at her, I probably look so awkward to her.

I mutter, “Thanks,” and put the pot on the stove.

“How long have you been on your own with her?” Elle asks. She has her back to me, thank God, so the question sounds less like an interrogation than it might otherwise.

“Her mom died when she was a year and half old. I’ve had her to myself since then.”

“Wow. That’s gotta be tough.” Elle takes a book off the shelf, flips through it, and puts it back. “Now I understand why she has so

many after-school activities.”

“I’m just doing my job,” I reply. “Somebody’s gotta do it.”

“Do you have any other family around?”

“I don’t have any family at all,” I reply. “I’m it. I’m the last stop.”

She shakes her head and strolls to the counter. She watches me getting vegetables out of the fridge to make a salad. I start getting uncomfortable again. Is she judging my kitchen skills? I shake myself. I can’t start thinking like that. I’m just not used to having a stranger in my house. I can’t even remember when I had someone over - a woman over.

She doesn’t say anything for a long time; she just watches.

Eventually she says, “I wasn’t just being polite when I said you’d be welcome to come over to my place, too. If you’re really worried about Georgia coming over, think I might be dangerous, or my house might not be a safe environment, you could come over first and give it your official Fire Chief inspection beforehand.”

My head shoots up, and I almost fire back. Is she making fun of me? But I lose all steam when I see her twinkling eyes. She really knows how to get under my skin.

“Thanks,” I mumble. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? It’s no problem. Maybe I could fill out some kind of City Council approval license application, so I make sure to go through all the proper channels.”

She laughs out loud, and I fight the urge to join in. I fail and end up chuckling. “Okay. You got me. I might be a little overprotective of her.”

“You think?” she teases. “She’s ten years old. Most of us were walking to school alone, coming home alone, and making our own dinner by the time we were her age. Hell, I used to take care of my younger brother and sister until seven thirty every night until my mom got home from work. I made dinner for them every night and gave them baths and read them bedtime stories. We did that every day for twelve years, even after all three of us became teenagers.”

I gape at her. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Why the hell have I been feeling sorry for myself for almost nine years?

She laughs and juts her chin at the stove. “I think your water is boiling.”

I jolt awake and hurry away to put the pasta in the water. “I’m really sorry,” I reply over my shoulder. “I feel like a punk now.”

“Why? Anyone can understand why you want to protect your daughter.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the story you just told me.” I walk to the counter and dry my hands on a towel. I don’t have any trouble looking her in the eye now. “You’re right. We were all a lot more independent when we were her age. I meant I’m sorry because I thought the worst of you. I saw how you were acting toward Georgia, and I assumed the worst because…well, you’re too young to have kids of your own.”

She laughs again. “Hey! Watch it! I’m twenty-four. I’m plenty old enough. Trust me.”

“I mean I let my imagination run away with me about why you were so good with her when you didn’t have kids of your own. I assigned ulterior motives to that when I shouldn’t have.”

She won’t stop laughing, but her sparkling eyes and wide-open expression tell me that she’s enjoying this conversation as much as I am. “Ulterior motives! Now that is a vocabulary word I would not have expected a lowly fire chief to know. Congratulations, I’m impressed.”

I blush. I want to look away to escape from this feeling, but I can’t force myself to break eye contact. “Actually, it was two words.”

She bursts out laughing even louder, and this time, I don’t try to stop myself from enjoying the joke.

I don’t mind working on dinner, now that the ice has broken—or to be more accurate, now that she’s broken the ice. I didn’t exactly cooperate, but she sure broke the hell out of it.

I go back over to the stove to stir the pasta. “So, was your mom a single mother?”

“Yep. It was just the four of us. I remember Dad as more of a shadow figure. I don’t even remember what he looked like, and Mom never kept pictures of him around. I asked my brother and sister recently if they remembered him and they don’t—not at all.

Mom was already single when they had their earliest memories.”

“That sucks. Every kid needs a dad.”

“Yeah, I agree. I didn’t think when I was growing up that I missed out on much—especially after the stories Mom told about what kind of person he was. I always thought our family was just the four of us. I didn’t realize until I grew up that I had missed out on anything not until I met guys like you.”

I spin around, and my stomach drops when I see the way she’s looking at me. She better not be thinking that. She doesn’t wait for

me to explain because she already knows what I’m thinking. “I meant that I didn’t understand until I met guys who are actually being good fathers. I didn’t realize that a man could be a father like that, but now I know what I was missing.”

I tear myself away. She might not be thinking that, but I sure am and I can’t let myself. “Well, I guess every kid needs a mother, too. I can’t give that to Georgia.”

“No, you can’t, but that isn’t your fault. You’re doing your job just like my mom did.”

“Did she? You said she was gone so much of the time.”

She shrugs. “She had to. She paid the bills and no one thought twice about leaving a seven-year-old kid alone in charge of two younger kids. You could get away with that back then.”

I shake my head and scoop the vegetables into a bowl. “Seven!

Wow! That sounds hard.”

“It wasn’t. It was just the way we did it. I liked it.”

“So what about now? You’re all alone over in that house. Are you going to become an old maid like Mrs. Bentley?”

She bursts out laughing again. I might be starting to get seriously addicted to that sound. “I might at the rate I’m going.”

“Why do you say that? You’re bound to get married one of these days and have a million kids of your own. Then you’ll be doing it all over again.”

She beams at me and her cheeks color. She really is beautiful when she blushes like that. “I’m a novelist. I belong in an attic somewhere.”

My jaw drops. “A novelist! No way!”

“Don’t tell anyone. It’s a big secret.”

“Really? What have you written?”

“Nothing you would have heard of.”

“Try me. I might be a lowly fire chief, but I do read books.”

She waves to the bookshelf. “I can see that, but you don’t read the kind of books that I write.”

“Why not?”

“Because I write romance novels with a lot of drama and romance and standing around gazing into each other’s eyes, and, and, and…”

I burst out laughing and find myself blushing again. “You’re right.

I don’t read that stuff.”

“I know. You’re way too much of a guy.”

I can think of plenty of things to say, but I break it off when I hear Georgia coming down the stairs. Should I be worried about her seeing Elle inside our house? Is Georgia even old enough to suspect anything? Why would she when nothing is going on? I’m just having a conversation with my next-door neighbor. What could be more innocent than that?

This isn’t just a conversation with my next-door neighbor, though.

I don’t know what it is, but it’s changed into something completely different. Georgia pulls up short when she sees Elle standing there talking to me while I work. I can just see the barrage of questions forming in Georgia’s mind, so I head her off at the pass. “Hey, kiddo.

Go wash your hands for dinner.”

Elle steps away from the counter. “I better get out of your hair.

See you two troublemakers later.”

“Stick around.” Sweet Jesus, what am I thinking even saying that?

Georgia leaps forward and grabs Elle. “Yeah! Stay for dinner, Elle!

Come on! You have to!”

“Have to!” Elle laughs at her. “I don’t know. Your dad might not have made enough for all three of us. I can eat a lot. You’d be surprised.”

“You’re lying,” I tease. “I can eat you whole by myself.”

She laughs and colors again, but fortunately for my sanity, Georgia doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. She’s too thrilled that Elle might be staying for dinner.

“Are you sure?” Elle asks me. “I wouldn’t want to put you to any kind of financial hardship or anything. I do make enough writing novels to feed myself.”

“What are you going to have for dinner if you go home now?” I ask. “What do you survive on over there in your attic—peanut butter and top ramen?”

She keeps laughing so I must be doing something right. “Actually, tonight, it’s carrot sticks.”

“You HAVE to stay for dinner!” Georgia drags Elle toward the table.

“I’ll set another place…”

“No, you won’t,” I interject. “Go wash your hands. I’ll set it.”

“Dad…!” she protests.

“Go on! You better hurry up before Elle eats all the spaghetti.”

Georgia shoots off to the bathroom, and I get another plate and set of cutlery out of the drawer. “You don’t have to do this,” Elle tells me. “I didn’t mean to invite myself over for dinner.”

“You didn’t. You said you thought I’d never invite you in, so I better get busy proving you wrong.”