Hearts on Fire Read online

  Becca rolled her eyes and headed into her classroom. Fifteen minutes later, she had everyone slicing through their fabric with rotary cutters and was walking around the room, offering help and demonstrations as needed. As she gazed across the twenty heads bowed to their work, she had the sensation of being watched herself. She looked toward the open door of the classroom, and saw Jack leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway. She gave him a little wave with her fingers, unsure what he was doing there, and he gave her a little smile back.

  Maybe if that night at the graduation party had never happened, she and Jack could be friends. He seemed to be the outsider in his family, as she was in hers. They had that in common. And he seemed to be pretty laid back, which might make him more willing to overlook her checkered past and just accept her for who she was right now. She was still basically a screwup and totally directionless in life, but less aggressively so than when she was younger.

  If only that night hadn’t happened.

  But it had.

  Chapter 14

  Jack deposited a red plastic helmet on Landon’s head, then one on his brother. Madsen, his name was. He doubted those were family names. Lucky kids. Landon and Madsen sounded like monikers straight off one of the “most popular baby names” lists that sparked arguments between Oliver and his wife. Oliver and Serena practically split up every time they needed to name a kid—and Serena was pregnant again. A girl this time. Jack knew better than to ask what names they were considering. Girls’ names were uncharted territory for his brother and sister-in-law.

  Not that Jack had given it much thought on his end, but he definitely wasn’t giving his children family names. He was his uncle’s namesake, an honor that rested heavily on his shoulders. Jack hadn’t started life with a blank slate, free to write out his own destiny. Instead, his life was meant to make his uncle’s death—his mother’s shattering grief over losing her brother, his father’s stoic loss of his best friend—worth it somehow. And Jack was failing miserably at it, because the thing he wanted most was to follow in his uncle’s footsteps.

  What better way to honor his uncle’s legacy than to do what he had been so proud to do?

  Unfortunately, his mother didn’t see it that way. Jack suspected that his father would be fine with all three of his sons working as firefighters, but making his wife happy was more important to him.

  “Thanks.” Landon and Madsen’s father gave Jack a firm handshake. “The boys had a great time.”

  “No problem. I had a great time showing them around.”

  Those weren’t just empty words for Jack. He remembered his own fascination with all things firefighting when he was Landon and Madsen’s age. Even at twenty-five, he still loved it. Landon and Madsen practically jumped out of their skin when he asked if they wanted to sit in the driver’s seat of the ladder truck. They had tested some of the cots in the bunk room, sampled the doughnuts in the kitchen, turned up their noses at Jack’s joking offer of some coffee, and proved themselves nimbler on the slide than most of the station crew.

  When they left—with directions to the Ice Creamery on Main Street—Jack headed for his father’s office. Tim Wolfe was sitting at the desk beneath the portraits of past fire chiefs. There were a lot of them. St. Caroline was an old, old town. He tapped on the door jamb. His father looked up and waved him in. It took an instant for the strained expression on Tim Wolfe’s face to relax into a smile for his youngest son.

  “Come on in. Your fan club is gone?”

  Jack glanced at the official-looking letter his father had been reading. “What’s that?”

  His father’s sigh was heavy. “The superintendent of the Naval Academy is building a house down by Oyster Point. The governor is concerned that we don’t have the manpower to handle all these new high profile homes. And we don’t. But every time the town council turns down a building request, the people run to the governor’s office and he pressures the town until they give in.”

  “So put me on a crew.”

  “I can’t, son. You know that.”

  “Come on, dad—”

  His father shook his head and for the first time, Jack was struck by the evidence of his father aging. Tim Wolfe was fifty-five, the same age as his high school sweetheart, Angie Wolfe. He’d spent his entire adult life in a stressful job. Lost his best friend and fellow firefighter on a call when they were twenty-eight. Watched his two older sons put themselves in danger all the time. And now he was losing the love of his life. So Jack didn’t press the issue. His future wasn’t here in St. Caroline anyway. He’d known that since about the age of ten. It was great that Matt and Oliver had stayed in town, but Jack just didn’t see it for himself.

  “Did you know that Elliott Parker has a house around here somewhere?” he asked.

  “Who’s Elliott Parker?”

  “An artist. Big out in California.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “He was at the street fair, drawing pencil portraits.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  The conversation faltered. Truth was, Matt and Oliver were closer to their father than Jack was. Jack’s stronger bond was with his mother. He was going to feel even less like home in St. Caroline when she was gone.

  “Yeah. Well, anything else you need me to do before I head home?” he offered.

  “Yes. There is one thing. Your mother would like you to invite Becca Trevor to the hospital gala.”

  Jack frowned. “Why?” Although the thought of a date with Becca wasn’t an entirely unpleasant one, he didn’t think she’d feel the same way. She couldn’t get away from him quick enough at the Inn earlier.

  “Because Michelle is her friend and Michelle is worried about Becca not getting out enough since she came home. Apparently all she does is work and stay in her room, quilting.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to go with me?”

  “Well, if she says ‘no,’ then she says ‘no.’ It’s either you or Mattie.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Jack held open the door to Two Beans and let Becca enter first. A shiver convulsed her body at the sudden change in temperature. Outside, it was—to put it in technical terms—stinking hot. Inside the coffee shop, both the air and the vibe were chill. Amazing how people could sit around pouring caffeine into their bodies and yet be totally relaxed.

  Not that a cup of coffee was going to relax Becca. Not if that cup were consumed sitting across from Jack. He had spent the last hour of her shift at Skipjack’s nursing a beer at the bar. It took him awhile to get around to asking her if she wanted to go have a coffee when her shift ended. So here they were.

  But her feelings were torn. On the one hand, there was a high probability that having coffee with Jack would be a pleasant—if not totally relaxing—way to spend the next hour. A very pleasant way. Jack was easy to talk to, and easy on the eyes. Her eyes couldn’t stay away from his tanned calves.

  And unlike most—no, make that all—of the guys she had dated in the past, Jack was a decent sort. On the other hand, they had a history. Baggage. The last thing she needed was for that baggage to pop open and spill its contents all over the ground.

  She followed him through the front part of the shop, where the counter, espresso machines, and pastry case were. Jack walked straight through to the newer addition on the back. When she was a kid, Two Beans had been just a standard mom-and-pop coffee shop inside yet another of the historic storefronts lining Main Street. While she was in Ohio, it had acquired new owners and a much hipper look. She vaguely recalled her father mentioning the hoops the current owners had to jump through to renovate the interior.

  “What can I get you?” he asked, pulling out a chair for her.

  She sat. “Do they still have that iced Vietnamese coffee?”

  “They do. Had some a couple days ago.”

  “One of those would be good.”

  “Coming right up.”

  She looked around the newer section of the shop, tilting her h
ead back to gaze up at the light streaming in through a giant skylight. The walls were exposed brick, and scattered around the room were leather sofas and armchairs. She was seated at one of the wooden tables lining the back wall.

  Minutes later, Jack returned with two iced Vietnamese coffees and a plate of miniature caramel scones.

  “I know it’s kind of late in the day for scones, but …”

  “It’s never too late for scones.”

  His smile could have powered every shop on Main Street. “That’s my philosophy, too.”

  She took a sip of the cold, sweet drink. “You like these too?”

  “Yeah. Drink them a lot in San Francisco.”

  She took another sip, savoring the chill that spread down her throat and into her chest. “You were smarter than I was.”

  “How so?”

  “You moved to San Francisco. I moved to Columbus.”

  “I’ve heard good things about Columbus.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a nice little city. But I imagine San Francisco is more exciting.”

  “If you have money, it is. If you’re a security guard and a volunteer firefighter, not as much.”

  “You’re a volunteer out there?”

  A pained look crossed his face. “My mother doesn’t know about that. Just my dad.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to my mom. I’m not as close to her as my sisters are.” She picked up a scone and bit into it. Jack did the same. After a minute, she spoke again. “So I take it you didn’t invite me here to tell me you’re a firefighter like the rest of your family.”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “No. I wanted to ask you to go to the Champagne and Chocolate gala with me. At the hospital.”

  She studied him for a moment. “Our parents put you up to this, didn’t they?”

  He made no reply.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

  “Yes, my parents asked me to invite you.”

  “Why me? Why not one of my sisters?”

  “You’re the workaholic in the family, apparently. Your mom is worried that you spend all your time working.”

  “Oh.”

  “So you could ask someone else, I guess. It doesn’t have to be me. Although if you turn me down, Matt is their second choice, it sounds like.” He popped another miniature scone into his mouth. “Of course, you might prefer Matt.”

  She didn’t, actually. “I hadn’t really anticipated needing a social life this summer.”

  “Me either.” A few moments of silence passed. “Mike says you’re a great bartender. He’s thrilled to have you working for him.”

  Becca shrugged, thankful for the change of subject. Her mother had chosen the absolute worst person to invite her on a date. Her mother didn’t know that, of course, but still. “I was tending bar in Ohio. It’s what I know how to do.”

  “And quilt.”

  “Pour drinks and quilt. Those are my two top talents.”

  “So how did you get fired in Ohio? Mike can’t say enough good about you.”

  She bit back a sigh. Changed subject, but only marginally better than the first. “There was a female patron being harassed by some jerk and I tried to intervene. Unfortunately, the jerk was the owner’s brother.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah, no good deed goes unpunished.”

  “I know this is kind of awkward. My parents don’t know about … I haven’t told anyone.”

  “Mine don’t know either. They have no idea that I’m the last person you’d ever want to ask out.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” His eyes held hers. “You’re very attractive, Becca.”

  As was he—even with his hair and tee shirt still damp with sweat from the humidity outside. Somehow in the past seven years, he had turned into the best-looking guy in their graduating class. She imagined trying to explain to her parents—not to mention her sisters—why she turned down Jack’s invitation. On the surface, there was no good reason to say ‘no.’ Below the surface, there was every reason.

  “Why did you kiss me at my parents’ party?”

  He set down his glass of iced coffee, nearly empty now. “I shouldn’t have done that. I apologize. Ego, I guess.” He was struggling with finding the right words, but to his credit he didn’t glance away from her. He kept his eyes on hers. “At the party, in your car … that was my first time, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, I’m sure it was obvious. I didn’t even know how to properly kiss a girl. At your parents’ house … I don’t know what came over me.”

  “You wanted to show me that you know how to kiss now?”

  “Something like that, I guess.”

  “I sort of assume you know a little more these days.” There was one scone left, and Becca nudged the plate in Jack’s direction. “You have the wrong idea about me.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. I know everyone always thought I was the town bicycle and all. But I wasn’t. Even though, well, I guess I was with you. But that’s not me, and it’s even less me now. So if you’re looking for someone to hook up with this summer, it won’t be me. If we go to the gala together, that doesn’t mean that I’ll—”

  “And I don’t expect you to. That’s not why I invited you.”

  “You invited me because your parents browbeat you into it.”

  “I invited you because my mother wants me to, and I’m trying to make these last months happy for her. But she’ll probably be just as happy if Matt takes you.”

  “Matt wouldn’t be interested in me.”

  “If it breathes and has a vagina, Matt is interested.”

  Becca felt her face grow hot.

  “Maybe we can both agree that what happened at that party was uncharacteristic for both of us. I was a teenaged boy too under the influence of beer and friends to care that I was being offered a pity fuck.”

  “It wasn’t—”

  He held up his hand to stop her words. “I know it was, Becca, and that’s okay. I was probably the last virgin standing in our class. And I’m guessing you had some peer pressure on your end, as well.”

  Beer and peer pressure. Tamara Rossi. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You deserved better for your first time.”

  It was Becca who looked away first. She couldn’t hold his stare. He was circling the truth of her: she didn’t deserve better.

  He held his hand out across the small table. “Why don’t we agree to start over with each other? It was one time and I’m sure I wasn’t that memorable, to begin with. Let’s just say it never happened.”

  That was easy for him to decide. Just say the words and “poof!” Regrettable pity fuck gone. It was considerably less easy for her. Damn impossible, to be exact. She’d had his baby without telling him. It had been the best option. The only option if his life was going to proceed along the path it was supposed to. The only option for Jacqueline Michelle to have a better life than two teenagers could have provided for her.

  The deceit of it would always eat at her. She knew that, and it was no less than she deserved. No good deed goes unpunished. For Jack Wolfe’s sake, she had spent the past seven years pretending it never happened. She put her hand in his and let him shake it. And for his sake, she would continue pretending.

  Chapter 15

  Becca let the door of the dress shop close quietly behind her, shutting out the heat and noise of the outlet center’s vast parking lot. Inside, the array of dresses on display was nearly as vast, and she stopped to take a deep breath and corral her bearings. She’d never shopped for a formal dress before. Not even for the prom. Her then-boyfriend had dumped her two months before and took a college girl he met at a party in Annapolis. Whatever. Becca had still gone to several of the after-prom parties. The parties were the fun part, anyway—not trying to slow dance in an uncomfortable dress and heels, worrying about your fancy updo coming undone.

  She was skipping the fancy updo part for the hospital gala, but there was no getting ar
ound the uncomfortable dress and heels part. So here she was. She had the day off from Skipjack’s because she was working a wedding at the Inn tomorrow, and of course her mother had given her time off from Quilt Therapy to shop. This was her mother’s brainchild, after all.

  She waded into the sea of silk and polyester, discreetly flipping over price tags as she went. There had to be a sale rack at the back of the store, she told herself. She had agreed to go with Jack, but she wasn’t willing to break the bank doing it. She was going to buy something marked down, regardless of how it looked. She just needed to look presentable and not embarrass her parents. She wasn’t trying to look pretty for Jack Wolfe. That was dead last on the list of dress criteria. In fact, she needed a dress that would thoroughly repel Jack without embarrassing her parents.

  Sure, he had said he didn’t expect a repeat of the graduation party but she had known enough men by now. Even the nice ones still tended to think with a certain part of their anatomy. She didn’t want Jack, in a moment of weakness or temporary insanity, to even try—because Jack Wolfe was way too attractive these days. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself enough to say “no.”

  She flipped through the sales rack. Nothing strapless. Nothing low cut. Nothing skintight. It didn’t take long to scan every dress on the rack. Strapless, low cut, skintight—that ruled out ninety percent of the dresses. She headed for a section of the store where the options looked less “formal gown” and more “afternoon wedding.” She was surprised to find her sister, Charlotte, lurking among the displays.

  “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  “I have an interview in DC next week. I’m looking for a suit.”

  It was hard for Becca to picture her youngest sister working in an office in the city. Looking at her now, in her shorts and tank top, sneakers and ponytail, Charlotte could pass for a high school kid still.

  “Not many suits in here. Sure mom didn’t sent you to help me, the fashion-challenged daughter?”

  Charlotte looked sheepish. “It might have been six of one, half dozen of the other. You’re not mad, are you?”