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at the no-nonsense way the kid told the story and how he manipulated events to make it seem as if everything had just sort of happened without any direct involvement on his part.
But this could have been a potentially serious situation, a crumbling old fire hazard like the inn.
He hated to come off hard-nosed and mean, but he had to make the kid understand the gravity. Education was a huge part of his job and a responsibility he took very seriously. “That was a very dangerous thing to do. People could have been seriously hurt. If your mother hadn’t been able to get to the room fast enough with the fire extinguisher, the flames could have spread from room to room and burned down the whole hotel and everything in it.”
To his credit, the boy met his gaze. Embarrassment and shame warred on his features. “I know. It was stupid. I’m really, really sorry.”
“The worst part of it is, I have told you again and again not to play with matches or lighters or anything else that can cause a fire. We’ve talked about the dangers.” Laura glowered at her son, who squirmed.
“I just wanted to see how it worked,” he said, his voice small.
“You won’t do it again, will you?” Taft said.
“Never. Never, ever.”
“Good, because we’re pretty strict about this kind of thing around here. Next time you’ll have to go to jail.”
The boy gave him a wide-eyed look, but then sighed with relief when he noticed Taft’s half grin. “I won’t do it again, I swear. Pinky promise.”
“Excellent.”
“Hey, Chief,” Lee Randall called from the engine. “We’re having a little trouble with the hose retractor again. Can you give us a hand?”
“Yeah. Be there in a sec,” he called back, grateful for any excuse to escape the awkwardness of seeing her again.
“Excuse me, won’t you?” he said to the Pendleton women and the children.
“Of course.” Jan Pendleton gave him an earnest look. “Please tell your firefighters how very much we appreciate them, don’t we, Laura?”
“Absolutely,” she answered with a dutiful tone, but he noticed she pointedly avoided meeting his gaze.
“Bye, Chief.” The darling little girl in Jan’s arm gave him a generous smile. Oh, she was a charmer, he thought.
“See you later.”
The girl beamed at him and waved as he headed away, feeling as if somebody had wrapped a fire hose around his neck for the past ten minutes.
She was here. Really here. Blue eyes, cute kids and all.
Laura Pendleton, Santiago now. He had loved her with every bit of his young heart and she had walked away from him without a second glance.
Now she was here and he had no way to avoid her, not living in a small town like Pine Gulch that had only one grocery store, a couple of gas stations and a fire station only a few blocks from her family’s hotel.
He was swamped with memories suddenly, memories he didn’t want and didn’t know what to do with.
She was back. And here he had been thinking lately how lucky he was to be fire chief of a small town with only six thousand people that rarely saw any disasters.
Taft Bowman.
Laura watched him head back into the action—which, really, wasn’t much action at all, given that the fire had been extinguished before any of them arrived. He paused here and there in the parking lot to talk to his crew, snap out orders, adjust some kind of mechanical thing on the sleek red fire truck.
Seeing him in action was nothing new. When they had been dating, she sometimes went on ride-alongs, mostly because she couldn’t bear to be separated from him. She remembered now how Taft had always seemed comfortable and in control of any situation, whether responding to a medical emergency or dealing with a grass fire.
Apparently that hadn’t changed in the decade since she had seen him. He also still had that very sexy, lean-hipped walk, even under the layers of turnout gear. She watched him for just a moment, then forced herself to look away. This little tingle of remembered desire inside her was wrong on so many levels, completely twisted and messed up.
After all these years and all the pain, all those shards of crushed dreams she finally had to sweep up and throw away, how could he still have the power to affect her at all? She should be cool and impervious to him, completely untouched.
When she finally made the decision to come home after Javier’s death, she had known she would inevitably run into Taft. Pine Gulch was a small town after all. No matter how much a person might wish to, it was generally tough to avoid someone forever.
When she thought about it—and she would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t thought about it—she had foolishly imagined she could greet him with only a polite smile and a Nice to see you again, remaining completely impervious to the man.
Their shared history was a long time ago. Another lifetime, it seemed. She had made the only possible choice back then and had completely moved on with her life, had married someone else, given birth to two children and put Pine Gulch far in her past.
As much as she had loved him once, Taft was really just a small chapter in her life. Or so she told herself anyway. She had been naively certain she had dealt with the hurt and betrayal and the deep sense of loss long ago.
Maybe she should have put a little more energy and effort into making certain of all that before she packed up her children and moved thousands of miles from the only home they had ever known.
If she’d had a little energy to spare, she might have given it more thought, but the past six months seemed like a whirlwind, first trying to deal with Javier’s estate and the vast debts he had left behind, then that desperate scramble to juggle her dwindling bank account and two hungry children in expensive Madrid, and finally the grim realization that she couldn’t do it by herself and had no choice but to move her little family across the world and back to her mother.
She had been focused on survival, on doing what she thought was right for her children. She supposed she really hadn’t wanted to face the reality that moving back also meant dealing with Taft again—until it smacked her upside the head, thanks to her rascal of a son and his predilection for finding trouble wherever he could.
“What are we going to do?” Her mother fretted beside her. She set Maya down on the concrete side walk, and the girl immediately scampered beside Alex and stood holding her brother’s hand while they watched the firefighters now cleaning up the scene and driving away. “This is going to ruin us!”
Laura put an arm around her mother’s plump shoulders, guilt slicing through her. She should have been watching her son more carefully; she certainly knew better than to give him any free rein. She had allowed herself to become distracted checking in some guests—the young married couple on spring break from graduate school in Washington who had found more excitement than they had probably anticipated when their hotel caught fire before they had even seen their room.
While she was busy with them, Alex must have slipped out of the office and wandered to the wing of the hotel they were currently renovating. She still couldn’t believe he had found a lighter somewhere. Maybe a previous guest had left it or one of the subcontractors who had been coming in and out the past week or so.
It really was a miracle her son hadn’t been injured or burned the whole place down.
“You heard Chief Bowman. The fire and smoke damage was contained to only one room, so that’s good news.”
“How is any of this good news?” In the flash of the emergency vehicles as they pulled away, her mother’s features looked older somehow and her hands shook as she pushed a stray lock of carefully colored hair away.
Despite Taft and all the memories that had