In Love With The Firefighter. Amie Denman
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currently painting on his days off from the station. An irregular schedule of twenty-four on, then thirty-six or twelve on gave him time to work in the sunshine on outside projects. Even if it meant sacrificing sleep.
Charlie Zimmerman stood in the driveway, holding a hammer. He walked up to Kevin’s open window as soon as the truck stopped.
“Just got the for-sale sign put up,” he said. “The house looks lousy now, but once you get it painted it’ll sell fast. Especially with summer coming up.”
The house was constructed exactly like the others on the street. Originally beach rentals, they were all one-story, wood-sided, with single-car garages and tiny front yards. Some of the houses had acquired character over the years with brightly painted walls, redesigned front entrances, creative landscaping. This house was like a wallflower cousin asked to the prom out of obligation. It needed color and life.
“Decide on the paint?” Kevin asked.
Charlie nodded. “Come see.”
Kevin got out, walked around the truck, and opened the passenger door for Arnold. He lifted the beagle down.
“He doesn’t get any better looking with age,” Charlie said.
“Neither do you.”
“So,” Charlie continued, ignoring the insult, “the homeowner thought white was the best choice because it’s a standard and it wouldn’t scare off any potential buyers. My office thought color would make this place pop. At least that’s what the ladies said. So we compromised.”
“How?” Kevin asked.
“White with green shutters.”
Charlie showed Kevin the buckets of paint stored in the garage, a swipe of color on each lid identifying the contents. The spring green shutter paint was a perfect match for Nicole’s eyes. Not that she liked what she saw out of those eyes, at least not when she was looking at him.
He’d blown it. He just didn’t know how, aside from the obvious business of wrecking her car.
“While you’re here, I wondered if you’d want to think about a little business venture with me. You’re a good painter and pretty handy with other stuff. And I’ve got the inside track on Cape Pursuit real estate.”
“No, I don’t want to buy and flip houses with you,” Kevin said, his tone implying they’d talked about this before.
“You’d make some dough.”
“I have enough money. And I’m taking classes this fall to get my fire science degree. So thanks, but no.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
Kevin unloaded a wooden ladder from the bed of his truck and set it next to the paint cans in the garage. He planned to go home and get a few hours’ sleep while the sun was hot and then come back in the evening and start in. The house was already pressure washed, the loose paint scraped off. Covering ugly wood with fresh paint was one of Kevin’s favorite things. It was just as satisfying as dousing a fire, but the paint lasted longer.
He’d been painting houses in Cape Pursuit since he was a teenager, and he remembered them all, always noticing them when he drove by and evaluating how well their paint was sticking.
“I thought I might see about getting Jane’s friend a place to rent,” Charlie said, helping unload painting supplies from the truck bed. Drop cloths, brushes, a bucket of paint thinner. “The blonde.”
Kevin felt heat under his collar. It was hot in the garage, but that wasn’t the only reason. “Did Jane mention how long her friend is staying?”
“Nicole,” Charlie said. “Jane implied Nicole was here to stay. Permanently. Making a big move of some kind.”
“Good for her. Nice place to live,” Kevin commented.
“That all you have to say?”
“At the moment.”
“She gave you a hard time at the restaurant. And nobody’s seen the mirror that was supposed to go on the wall at the station.”
“I think we should leave her alone. She’s new in town. She’s Jane’s best friend. Maybe she’s off-limits,” Kevin said. “Like Jane is,” he added, waiting for a reaction from Charlie. Everyone knew Charlie protected Jane as if she were a little sister.
Arnold bumped into a table in the crowded garage and knocked over a stepladder leaning on it. The ladder clattered to the floor and Arnold stared at it for a moment before lying down and putting his face on his paws.
“He’s going blind,” Kevin said. “It’s worse when he’s tired. We’re headed home for some sleep, but I’ll be back this evening to start in. If I get a coat of primer on before the sun goes down, I can start putting paint on tomorrow.”
“Make fun of me if you want, but this place will make me a pile of cash. Think about it, Kevin. You can only fight fires for so long, and the real estate business is a great fallback plan.”
Kevin shrugged. “Fighting fires is in my blood. If I ever get too old to do it, I’ll hang around the station and bore the young guys with stories about how we used to do things back in my day.” He grinned and scratched Arnold’s ears while he talked. “Maybe they’ll let me toss my walker in the back of the truck and drive them to the fires.”
Charlie leaned against the wall. “You putting your name in for a promotion? When the chief retires in a few months, everyone will probably move up a notch. Might open up a lieutenant’s job for you, maybe even captain.”
“Thought about it,” Kevin admitted. His older brother was already a lieutenant with just a few more years than Kevin on the department. “How about you? Are you applying?”
“No thanks,” Charlie said. “I’m happy to stay out of paperwork at the station. Leadership is a whole lot of responsibility.”
“Fighting fires is a responsibility,” Kevin said.
Charlie shook his head. “Not the same thing. When you’re an officer, the place owns you, body and soul. And I’m not interested in being owned by anything.”
“Or anyone?”
Charlie laughed. “Definitely not. I’m in the rental business for the foreseeable future. Pretty women, ugly houses.”
“Give me a few days and this one won’t be ugly anymore,” Kevin said. He hoisted Arnold into his truck, got in and backed out of the driveway. Charlie waved as he pulled away, and Kevin wondered how his friend could choose selling houses instead of aiming for the top job at the fire department.
JANE OPENED HER front door, stepped out of her shoes and dropped her purse on a chair in the living room. Her feet hurt and she was starving, but it had been a good afternoon. Several small paintings and a few gift items had sold, and she’d also enlisted Nicole to rearrange the displays in the front windows of the gallery. Business was picking up on the waves of spring sunshine, and she had a lot to hope for in her future—more than she’d even admitted to her best friend.
“We could order a pizza,” Jane said. “I think I could eat the entire thing myself.”
“No way. I’ve been here five days, and I haven’t cooked once,” Nicole said as she took off her shoes and left them by the front door. “Either I’m living a dream, or I’m being a lousy friend.”
Jane wandered into the kitchen with Nicole right behind her. She took a can of cat food from a lower cabinet and smiled at her houseguest. “You’re not a lousy friend. You’ve been busy moving in and helping me build my art empire.”
“You look exhausted,” Nicole said, giving Jane a long look. “And