The Firefighter's Christmas Reunion. Christy Jeffries
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need to lead by example had always come across as a challenge to Isaac.
And today was no different.
“I’m only on my own temporarily,” he defended. “My crew is responding to a call at the elementary school.”
She gasped and he quickly held up his free palm, the one that wasn’t still tingling from her earlier touch. “Don’t worry. It’s the thirteenth time they’ve been out there this weekend. The district went with a low-bid contractor to install the new fire detection system. Most likely it’s another false alarm and they’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Hannah’s mouth relaxed, but her eyes sparkled with determination. “Then I can fill in for them in the meantime.”
With the growing number of young Scouts lining up at the pass-through window waiting for more plates of pancakes to serve, Isaac had to admit that he could use another hand. He studied her slender, strong fingers knotting the apron strings in front of her flat stomach. He just wasn’t quite sure he was ready for her hands.
Isaac cleared his throat. “Thanks for offering, but I’m sure one of the kids’ parents can come back here and help us.”
“I am one of the parents,” she replied, and Isaac’s heart slammed into his rib cage.
“Huh?” He must’ve looked as confused as he felt because Hannah rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb toward the dining area.
“My son’s a Cub Scout and his entire den is out there right now, wondering if these pancakes are going to cook themselves.”
“You have a son?”
Hannah could see Isaac Jones’s hazel eyes shifting back and forth as his brain made calculations. She hadn’t seen the man in ten years—since before he became a man, really—but some habits were hard to break and she could clearly see that his penchant for jumping to wrong conclusions was one of them. “Yes. His name is Samuel.”
“Is he...? I mean, uh...how old is your...um, son?” Isaac stammered. No doubt that he was expecting the age to coincide with the date they’d last been together and Hannah wondered if the guy’s ego knew no bounds.
Of course, with those wide shoulders and that perfectly warm brownskin with bronze undertones, he was definitely handsome enough to have an ego.
Instead of answering, though, she focused her trembling hands on the task of opening up the only box of pancake mix she could find and dumping it into a stainless steel bowl. After the way Isaac had once broken her trust and her heart, he didn’t even deserve to ask her about the weather, let alone such a personal question.
But her enjoyment at letting him squirm was short-lived because Sammy came into the kitchen at that exact moment. Hannah’s heart melted at her six-year-old’s hesitant steps and his round, wide eyes under the stiff blue cap. Straightening his gold neckerchief, she quietly asked, “How’s it going out there?”
Sammy tugged at her apron and Hannah bent down so she could hear his whispery, soft voice. “Those people sure eat a lot.”
“I know.” Hannah stroked a hand along the boy’s smooth ebony cheek. She’d read all the books and talked to countless other families about the transitioning effects of cross-cultural adoptions and children relocating overseas, especially for a child who had spent most of his life in a village orphanage in Ghana until he’d moved into a small cottage on the same premises with Hannah. “But don’t worry. We will have plenty of food for everyone. Do you want to help me mix up more pancakes?”
“No, thank you,” her son replied a bit more loudly, his accent making him sound almost British. “Uncle Luke said I could help him count out the change in the box. My cousins told me I need to learn how much the coins are worth so that the other kids at school won’t steal my lunch money and buy pudding cups with it.”
Hannah scrunched her nose. Her twin nephews were already proving to be a horrible influence on Sammy. But at least the nine-year-olds were coaxing the shy boy out of his shell and attempting to protect their newest family member. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and tried to ignore Isaac’s blatant stare from the other side of the kitchen as Sammy walked out, only slightly more confident than he’d been when he entered.
“Was that your son?” Isaac asked, his voice even deeper and smoother than it had been when they were teenagers.
Stiffening her spine as straight as it would go, she turned to confront the man she’d stupidly fallen for all those years ago.
“I adopted him while I was in Africa on a Teachers Without Borders program.”
He slowly nodded and she watched the relief drain over his face. Then one side of his full lips quirked up, immediately reminding her body of the way his mischievous smile had always had the ability to draw her in. “So you became a teacher after all.”
Hannah grunted, choking down her outrage. How dare he take pride in the memory of their late-night talks sitting on the tailgate of his Uncle Jonesy’s old, rusted-out pickup truck? The conversations where she’d told him about her ambitions and her dreams and he’d told her that she was going to make the world a better place. She cracked an egg so hard, half the shell fell into her mixing bowl.
Luckily, she was saved from having to make any further casual small talk when his uncle swung through the door, balancing a sack of pancake mix in each gnarled hand. “Look what I found! No thanks to Freckles over at the Cowgirl Up Café, mind you. That ol’ gal cursed me up and down a blue streak for not knowin’ that her flapjacks were made from scratch.”
“So then where’d you get these?” Isaac stepped away from the stove to relieve Jonesy of half his load.
“One of the ladies from that quilting group over at the community church brought them over, saying we could borrow theirs as long as we replace it before their homeless outreach breakfast next week.”
Hannah wanted to ask if they’d had a sudden outpouring of homeless people relocating to the touristy mountain town of Sugar Falls. When she’d left two years ago, there’d been a handful of regulars stopping by the shelter for an occasional hot meal, but that was usually only in the snowy, winter months.
However, she kept her lips firmly clamped, not sure if she was ready to find out what else had changed around here since she’d been gone.
As she whisked, Isaac turned to the stove and she tried not to peek at his back. He’d always had those slim hips and long legs, but when had his shoulders gotten so broad? Probably around the same time that his jawline had gotten more chiseled.
Stop it, she commanded herself. This tingling sensation under her skin wasn’t because she was still attracted to Isaac, it was simply her body’s way of responding to the shock of seeing him after all these years. In fact, she hadn’t even recognized him at first. Maybe because she’d been so successful at blocking out all thoughts of the one guy who’d ever broken her heart.
Of course, his curls were gone and his hair was now cropped close. Plus, Hannah never would have expected to see him wearing pants, since she’d only spent time with him during the summer months. Actually, it was a bit jarring not to see him in a pair of board shorts and dressed in a shirt with sleeves that hadn’t been cut off. What wasn’t unusual, though, was to see him in a Sugar Falls Fire Department tee since his uncle had always run the volunteer department.
Why hadn’t anyone in her family warned her that Isaac was visiting this fall? Not that her brothers didn’t have their own busy lives, but they should’ve known that she would want some advance notice that she might run into her ex-boyfriend. While they’d both joined the Navy two years before that fateful summer, they had to have seen the grainy footage of that video someone had taken of Isaac and then posted on the internet.
Her body shuddered at the suppressed memory. Despite the fact that it had been taken down twenty-four hours later, everybody had seen it. The entire town had heard his recorded accusations and she’d never been in such a hurry to return home