Her Firefighter Hero - Leigh Bale Men of Wildfire

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said.

      “That sounds fine. I’ve got several giant coffee pots we can use. Will you need me to provide the ice?”

      He nodded. “Yes, please. And I suggest you hire two or three more cooks to help you prepare the food. Will that be a problem?”

      She finally met his eyes. “No, I’m planning to speak with some people I know tomorrow afternoon. Since it’s seasonal work and only if we get a fire nearby, I think they’ll come out of retirement to help me. I also know of two school cooks who are out of work for the summer. I think they’ll jump at the chance for this kind of job. I’ll alternate their schedules, so they don’t get too worn out with the long hours. And then, I’m hoping to make a trip into Reno next week, to buy some additional equipment. Once I’ve got everything ready, I thought you could come over to check it out.”

      Impressive. He much preferred hiring an experienced caterer like Megan. She obviously knew what she was doing, but yes, he would want to check it out. “That would be fine. It sounds like you’ve already thought this through.”

      “I have. But—” she swallowed again “—I just want to make sure my food crew won’t be anywhere near the forest fire.”

      He hesitated. Obviously, he wouldn’t put her or her people in harm’s way. And yet, she seemed to be overly worried about it. And for some odd reason, he felt a protective impulse come over him. To reassure her. To keep her safe.

      “No, you won’t be working close to the fire. The camps are usually situated in a safe zone. I’ll ensure your protection. I can promise you that.”

      She released an audible breath, and it finally dawned on him that though most people would want to be assured of the same thing, Megan’s reasons stemmed from having her husband die in a fire. And he couldn’t blame her.

      “Mrs. Rocklin, I can assure you that no harm will come to you or your people. Safety comes first with me. We can replace buildings and trees, but no one should ever be injured or die in a forest fire.” And he meant what he said. Deep inside, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep his word.

      A slight smile curved her lips, and she stepped back on the front porch. “I’m glad to hear that. And please, call me Megan.”

      He smiled too, beyond relieved to have a caterer set in place. This was his first assignment as an FMO, and he wanted to do a good job. Contracting people to provide food, bulldozers, drop planes and pumper trucks was a large part of his work. He felt better having this item settled.

      They discussed her fee and a few other details. As she stepped down off the porch and headed toward the sidewalk, he accompanied her to her truck.

      “I can bring the contract by your restaurant in a day or two for you to sign,” he said.

      Zipping her jacket up to her throat, she met his gaze. “That would be fine. And thank you. I won’t let you down.”

      He smiled. “I have no doubt that’s true.”

      She opened the door to her truck. And as he watched her climb inside, flip on the headlights and drive away, he felt surprisingly happy inside. A strange notion that made him question why. And though he hated to admit it, he knew the answer. He wanted to see more of Megan Rocklin. And that knowledge left him feeling both a little frightened and excited all at once.

       Chapter Three

      “Mommy, that man’s here.”

      Megan looked up. Caleb stood in the doorway of the laundry room in their house.

      “What man?” Down on her hands and knees, Megan wrung out a dripping rag into the mop bucket. She blew a long tendril of hair out of her face and glanced toward the threshold again. Jared Marshall stood there, tall and imposing. Little Caleb stared up at the man, a look of hero worship filling his eyes.

      “Oh!” Megan’s mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. She almost groaned out loud, thinking this day couldn’t get much worse. Why did this gorgeous man have to catch her mopping up a mess from the leaky washing machine?

      Dressed in his Forest Service uniform, Jared held several white papers in his big hands. In a rush, Megan sat back with a thump, taking in the bronze shield pinned to the left front pocket of his drab olive green shirt. He looked so official. So imposing.

      Bracing her hands against the floor, she pushed herself to her feet, a knot of tension tightening at the back of her neck.

      “Hi, Jared. I didn’t expect to see you today.” She dropped the rag into the bucket, noticing that her wet fingers were wrinkled like prunes.

      His gaze swept across the room. He observed the washing machine pulled away from the wall, the tools resting on top of the dryer and the sheen of water still covering the damp floor.

      She felt nervous and out of sorts having this man in her home. Her house wasn’t fancy, but it was normally clean and comfortable. So, why did he have to show up just now, when everything was in a mess? And why did she care what Jared Marshall thought about where she lived anyway?

      He chuckled, the low sound sending a shiver up her spine. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I guess we keep surprising each other.”

      “Yeah, we sure do. You caught me at a bad time. The washing machine sprang a leak.” Her voice sounded unnaturally high to her ears.

      She turned and moved the bucket out of the middle of the floor. Facing him, she lifted her chin, trying to retain a bit of dignity.

      Pretending not to notice her predicament, Jared waved the papers in the air. “I brought over the contract for you to sign. I took it over to the restaurant, but they told me it was your day off. I figured you wouldn’t mind if I stopped by.”

      Her breath whooshed from her lungs. “Of course not. I only go into the diner on Mondays if they get swamped by customers. It’s usually our slow day. I was trying to catch up on some laundry, but it didn’t work out quite as I’d planned.”

      She took a step, her tennis shoes squeaking against the tile floor.

      She indicated the towels and a load of soggy clothes still sitting inside the washing machine drum, half-filled with water. They were waiting for a spin cycle that wouldn’t come, and Megan dreaded rinsing the clothes before wringing them out by hand. With everything else she had to do today, she didn’t need this problem to cope with. She wanted her laundry clean and put away.

      “Jared can fix the washer, Mommy,” Caleb said with confidence.

      Both Jared and Megan snapped their heads in the boy’s direction, looking surprised. Jared closed his mouth and his gaze zeroed in on the washing machine. June joined Caleb, watching the scene with wary eyes.

      “I pulled it out away from the wall, so I could get at the problem,” Megan said.

      But the truth was, she didn’t have any idea how to fix the machine. Megan had used the wrench to shut off the water, but not before she’d been doused by the spray. She pushed a limp strand of hair back behind her ear, highly conscious that she must look horrible. No makeup. Her hair a mess. Dressed in worn blue jeans and a ratty sweatshirt.

      “I have no idea how to fix the leak,” she confessed.

      And the drowsy little town of Minoa didn’t include a plumber. Folks usually dealt with problems like this on their own. It was expensive to bring an expert in from out of town. Blaine had always handled these situations for them, which was just one more reason she missed him. She’d been about ready to call Tim Wixler, to see if he might be able to come over after he got off work. Now she didn’t want to ask for Jared’s help, but she sure could use it.

      “Looks like the washing machine made quite a mess,” Jared said.

      “It did. Water was all over the place. Huh, Mommy?” Caleb scrunched up his nose as he gestured at the walls and

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