LITMIR.BIZ

      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

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