CHAPTER FOUR

      TRENT BURST THROUGH the Coast Inn doors ahead of his firefighting colleagues. He strode tall and proud through the bar, having earlier saved a family of four from a burning building. Satisfaction heated his blood, and need gathered strength for an ice-cold beer, a few games of pool and some great tunes coming from the TV rigged above the table.

      Despite a shower, change of clothes and a passing hour, the lingering smell of smoke still coated the inside of his nostrils and parched his throat. He strode toward the bar and Dave, the Coast’s landlord and owner, came toward him, only to be intercepted by his wife, Vanessa. “I’ve got the boys covered, my darling,” she said. “Why don’t you go and see what the family of four at table eight would like to eat?”

      Trent tried and failed to hide his smile as Dave rolled his eyes behind Vanessa’s back but obeyed her order anyway.

      Trent met Vanessa’s sparkling gaze and laughed. “Not sure Dave appreciated you serving us rather than him.”

      She shrugged. “Too bad. What woman in her right mind would choose a visiting family of four over three strapping and, I must say, extremely gorgeous firefighters? I might be the wrong side of forty, but that doesn’t mean a lady can’t enjoy the view. Now, what can I get you?”

      Sam and Will came to the bar on either side of him and Trent looked at his friends. “Beer, lads?”

      They nodded.

      “Then we’ll have a pitcher of your finest lager, please, Vanessa.”

      “Coming right up. Where will I find you?”

      Trent nodded toward the pool table in the far corner. “It looks like our usual spot is free so we’ll be there for the duration.”

      “I’ll bring it straight over.”

      Laughing at her blatant appraisal of him, Will and Sam before she busied herself at the pump, Trent turned. “Pool, gentlemen?”

      Sam Paterson and Will Kent led the way toward the table. Pumped and ready for a good night with the men he relied on to have his back both in and out of work, Trent fought back as Izzy slid into his mind. Not tonight. He would not think about her after such a successful day.

      Thinking about Izzy—wanting her—only served to ruin his good mood whenever he had occasion to enjoy one. She’d made it painfully clear she would never consider dating him as long as he continued to fight fires.

      The fact that she’d dismissed his motivation for becoming a firefighter cut him deeper than her refusal to see he might live for years. His sister had died. Didn’t she see he understood her pain? Her anger? Her fear that things would never be the same again?

      He refused to believe there wasn’t a deep want inside her waiting to break free and live a little. He understood her fear and need for control. She’d found it hard to talk to anyone when Robbie died, pushing away her parents until they’d sailed away from their daughter’s anger. Then it was Trent she pushed away, then Kate and so many others.

      His pain over losing his kid sister, Aimee, when she’d been in his care wasn’t so far away from Izzy’s pain of losing Robbie. Her carefully guarded control wasn’t so different than his either. He stared blindly toward the TV. Nothing was guaranteed in this world, and when you suffered losing a sibling, the lack of guarantee struck far too close to home.

      He should make time this week to go home and check on his parents in Kingsley. It had been a month or so since he showed his face, and they’d be as worried about him as he was about them. His family’s need to look out for one another, to be there for one another was what Trent waited for Izzy to understand. Death could bring people closer. It didn’t have to separate them.

      Guilt pressed down on him. Time and again, he went home when things got tough knowing his parents would be there with wise words and reassurance to bolster him.

      Izzy didn’t have a family in the traditional sense...but she did have people who cared for her. Deeply.

      “And there he goes.”

      Will’s voice from across the pool table snapped Trent’s focus to his friends. “You talking to me?”

      Will shook his head. “What’s with you, man? I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last couple of minutes. Thought I was going to have to resort to dancing the fandango on the pool table.”

      “Now, there’s something I don’t want to see.” Trent smiled. “Ever.”

      Vanessa broke the conversation by placing a pitcher of lager and three glasses on the low table beside Will. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

      Will grinned. “You do know Dave’s over there giving me the evil eye right now? I’d rather keep my manhood intact, so I’ll have to pass.”

      Vanessa threw a hasty glance over her shoulder toward the bar. “You know Dave, he wants me happy above everything else.”

      Trent laughed. “Sure he does, but there’s happy and there’s happy.”

      Vanessa smiled and tapped Trent’s chin. “And Dave keeps me plenty happy as you know. Nothing wrong with ruffling his feathers now and then.” Her gaze turned sober. “In fact, there would be nothing wrong if a woman gave your feathers a proper ruffle one of these days. When am I going to see you and Izzy Cooper in this bar together, huh? It’s about time you patched things up and got on with that special something you two had.”

      Trent’s good mood ebbed into obscurity. “If Izzy’s got anything to do with it, that ship has sailed. Permanently.”

      Vanessa’s gaze turned sympathetic, which was so much less appealing than her earlier flirtation. “She’s scared of letting herself feel anything after Robbie died. We all know that, but you two are perfect together. I know it and so does everyone else in town. Don’t give up on her, okay?”

      Before he could respond, Vanessa walked away, calling out hellos to everyone in her usual bubbly and welcoming way. The crash and thump of balls being tossed onto the table turned Trent’s attention. It seemed half the town sensed Izzy was meant to be with him. Yet what was he supposed to do when she kept refusing him? He liked her a lot—but there was no way he’d beg. It was time he focused on getting on with his life while saving others. Period.

      He filled the three glasses with lager and joined Will and Sam at the table. Each of his friends took a drink and Trent held his aloft. “Here’s to another successful day’s work, boys. Long may it continue.”

      They raised their glasses in a toast before each taking a hefty slug of beer. Trent sighed. As long as he had an ice-cold beer and his colleagues fit, well and alive, he’d get through. He had to, because there was no way he would ever break his promise to God, or his sister, that he would fight fire for the rest of his life...however long that might be.

      Will racked the balls and selected a cue from the selection hung on the wall. As he chalked the end, his gaze locked on Trent. The scrutinizing look his friend gave him alerted Trent to more unwanted advice.

      He took another mouthful of his drink and licked the froth from his lip. “Something to say to me, Will?”

      Will put the chalk on the table as Sam leaned down in between them and took the first shot. “I have, as a matter of fact.”

      The assessing, “know it all” look in Will’s eyes caused Trent’s irritation to unfurl and obliterate the remnants of his previous good mood. “Well, spit it out. It seems I’m the topic of conversation in