The New Guy In Town. Teresa Southwick
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cold.” Delanie joined them, shaking water off her hands.
“That’s kind of the point.” Faith smiled.
The auburn-haired woman returned it. “But I wish someone could invent ice that didn’t give you frostbite.”
“Get ready, ladies. We’re almost up.” Lucy pointed to a group of men who had just disembarked from a truck that’d pulled into the staging area. They were wearing thick coats and pants plus heavy boots and other firefighting gear. Their first stop was a comfort station, where they poured water over their heads. Then the grimy jackets were shucked before they lined up at the food station.
Faith handed the first guy a plate and plastic utensils wrapped in a paper napkin. “How are you?”
“Hot. Hungry. Beat.”
There was nothing else to say. Clearly he didn’t have the energy to make small talk. She couldn’t imagine how difficult the working conditions were.
Lucy piled the man’s plate with food. It wasn’t fancy but there was plenty. “Is there progress?”
“Hard to tell.”
“There’s a table over there with cookies,” Delanie said, handing him an icy-cold water bottle. “And thanks for what you’re doing.”
“It’s my job,” he said simply.
“I know. But thanks. When this is over there’s a round of drinks waiting for you guys at Bar None.”
“Then we better get it over.” His smile was weary.
For the next hour they served food, distributed water, accepted and organized food donations dropped off by concerned townspeople—and tried to lighten the load of every exhausted man and woman who was taking a break from the fight to save other people’s homes and property from the fire.
Faith handed Desmond Parker a plate. He was the last man in this group, having waited until each of his guys had been taken care of. “Hi, Des.”
“Hey, Faith.”
“You look terrible.” Her heart went out to him, but she hadn’t meant to be so blunt. “I mean that in the nicest possible way. No offense.”
He laughed. “None taken. I get it.”
The man was in his thirties and had dark hair and blue eyes. Suspenders from his insulated pants seemed to highlight his broad shoulders, and his black T-shirt with BLFD—Blackwater Lake Fire Department—in bold white letters stretched tightly across his impressive chest. He was really handsome, even with the grime all over him. But Faith didn’t feel a single flutter in the vicinity of her heart. Not like she did with Sam.
“How’s it going?” she asked him.
“This is a tough one.” Worry etched in the soot on his face told her it was worse than he would say. “Wind speeds pick up late in the afternoon and the fire jumps from hill to hill. That stretches our resources even thinner.”
“So no containment yet.”
“Maybe ten percent.” His eyes darkened. “Don’t you live somewhere near Crawford’s Crest?”
“Yeah. Phoebe and I had to evacuate yesterday.” A vision of Sam Hart pouring her coffee that morning flashed before her eyes. He was a very good host, but with all the women in his life he’d probably had a lot of practice. “Do you have any information about the area?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Got my hands full on the fire line.”
“My bad. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Don’t worry about it. Of course you want news about your property. Wish I had something for you.” His expression was sympathetic. “Well, I better get some food.”
“Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to hold you up.”
Faith watched Lucy fill his plate without saying a word to him. That was weird since she’d chatted with the other guys who came through—teased and talked and lifted their spirits. But not a syllable or a smile for Des Parker. What was up with that?
When the rush was over the three of them replenished supplies at their respective stations, then looked at each other.
Delanie glanced at the plume of red-tinged smoke that just seemed to expand and obscure any blue in the sky. “I wish there was more I could do to help.”
“You’ve already taken people into your home,” Lucy pointed out.
“So have you.”
“The families you gave shelter to are pretty lucky,” Faith pointed out. “There are worse places to stay than with the proprietors of Bar None and the Harvest Café.”
“Yup.” Delanie nodded. “Except for the part where they could lose their homes and all their worldly possessions.”
“Oh my God, Faithie.” Lucy pressed a hand to her forehead. “I forgot. Your house is in the evacuation zone, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She kept trying to tell herself that as long as she and Phoebe were healthy and safe nothing else mattered, that worry wouldn’t do any good. But sometimes it slipped past her defenses.
“How are you?” Delanie’s voice was full of concern. “Where did you and Phoebe go? You should have called me.”
“Or me,” Lucy said.
“The mayor came to tell me personally and as it happened Sam Hart was there. Loretta had something to do with him opening his home to us.” He’d actually been very gracious about the whole thing and she wasn’t sure why that was so surprising.
“I’ve seen him in Bar None.”
“And the café.” There was a “hmm” in Lucy’s voice. “He doesn’t seem the sort to be pushed around. Not even by Madam Mayor.”
Delanie nodded her agreement. “I know what you mean. The man owns a successful financial company with a lot of employees. It’s highly unlikely she could intimidate him into something he didn’t want to do.”
“You’re both right. And obviously observant,” Faith said. “I didn’t mean to imply that the mayor shamed him into volunteering. Like I said, she came by my cart in the lobby of Sam’s building to tell me I couldn’t go home. She said she had a full house but could find floor space and air mattresses for Phoebe and me.”
“So he was shamed,” Lucy said.
“Maybe. I don’t know. He spontaneously offered because he has a big house. And Loretta said it would be a relief not to have to worry about us, what with all the problems she was handling.” Then Sam had made his case to talk her into staying with him.
“So you were there last night,” Delanie commented. “How was it?”
“He didn’t lie about it being big. And beautiful.” And the man had gone out of his way to make sure they were comfortable and had everything they needed. He’d even cooked dinner.
“What’s he like?” Lucy asked, as if reading her mind. “I mean, obviously he’s nice looking.”
“Nice?” Delanie shook her head. “You can do better than that, Luce.”
“You’re absolutely right.” The blonde looked appropriately chastised. “This whole fire crisis has thrown me off my game. Sam Hart is so hot he could melt a lesser woman than me into a pathetic puddle at his feet.”
Faith would admit, if only to herself, that she’d dipped a toe into that puddle. “And what’s your point?”
“We want details. What is it like living with him?” Delanie folded her arms over her chest. “Did you see him naked this morning?”
“Of course not.” But wouldn’t that have been something. “And I’d hardly