Bidding on the Cowboy Fireman (Rough & Ready Firefighters #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

CATALINA

“Oh shoot!” I exclaim, eyeing the clock on the kitchen microwave. “I’m going to be late back to work. Anything else I can get you before I leave, Gran?”

The stately older lady looks up from her knitting, pausing in thought. “Dumpling.”

The grumpy, mandarin poof meows languidly, recognizing her name. She stretches, standing and stalking imperiously to the kitchen slider that lets out onto the covered back porch.

Without thinking, I rise, opening the slider and letting her out before I beeline for the kitchen to grab her meds. A sultry whoosh of air fills the kitchen as the outside porch door whacks against the side of the house.

“Oh no!” I turn quickly on my heels, racing toward the source of the breeze. The outside porch door is somehow wide open, letting out onto the backyard. Dumpling saunters towards it.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn, stalking behind the housecat. My pace is a careful balancing act between moving slow enough not to spook her and going fast enough to hedge off escape.

Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!

Teddy, the neighbor’s Weimaraner, barks, and Dumpling transforms into an orange comet, streaking across the verdant, sun-warmed lawn. I kick off my high heels, sprinting after her.

Gran has become forgetful since Grandpa’s death, unlocking and unlatching the porch door so that he can find his way home. Some days, I have the strength to remind her that he’s not coming back. Others, I let it go with a bittersweet smile.

No matter what, I should’ve checked the porch before letting Dumpling out. But I was too busy thinking about getting back to the DMV, where I work, before lunch ends.

I really don’t want to be late back because the office experiences steady traffic, although it’s not at the pace of a big-city facility.

It helps that we offer limited registration services exclusively for Gold County residents, so much of my day is spent redirecting people hoping to dodge the bigger lines in Sacramento.

In a distant tree, near the back of the property, I catch sight of the furball escapee, like a lumberjack sprinting to the tippy top of one of Gran’s emerald evergreens.

“For heaven’s sake!” I mutter, starting up the ancient pine behind her. I used to scale this tree like a champ with my brothers, still finding trusty footholds and handholds from my youth. While further apart these days, I’ve done enough growing to make them work.

“Cat, what in the world are you doing?” Gran laments, shaking her head as she carefully picks her way down the porch steps and across the lawn toward me.

“Just trying to get Dumpling before I go, so I can medicate her.” The diabetic cat is in fragile health, so I don’t want to take any chances.

“Tilly can handle it,” she scolds, craning her neck.

“Yes, she can very much give her the shot,” I grunt, scaling higher and higher. “But she’s not going to climb a tree to do it.”

“And neither should you,” Gran scolds. “Why aren’t you using a ladder?”

That’s a very good question. “Because I didn’t want to dig through the garage. Besides, I’ve got this. Piece of cake.”

I laugh, breathing harder and pulling myself onto the next branch. The tree has to be at least a century old, with large, thick limbs.

“You were always such a tomboy,” she scolds, disdain in her voice.

“I know,” I counter, enthusiastically. In childhood, I took pride in keeping up with my brothers. They would go after Dumpling, too.

Of course, they wouldn’t be wearing a dark gray tweed, A-line skirt with less than forgiving stretch, and a pale pink knit blouse that really shouldn’t be near dirt, tree bark, or sap. But I’m out of options and time.

I spy Dumpling a few branches up from me. Just a couple more feet, and I can stuff her under my shirt and climb back down.

Apart from occasional issues with spooking, Dumpling is really a sweetheart. She’s de-clawed, so she won’t skewer me on the descent. That said, I’ll have to change shirts before returning to work, but that’s a small price to pay for a healthy cat and a happy grandma.

Riiiiip. The slit in the back of my skirt tears. Wonderful! Give it a few more branches, and I’ll be flashing the whole neighborhood with my hot pink satin undies.

“Oh, be careful, Cat!” Gran exclaims. I look down, catching her clutching her face with her hands dramatically.

“I’m fine. Really. Done this a thousand times.”

Suddenly, my eyes flicker from the concerned older lady’s face to the ground below. Good God! I really am teetering near the top of the evergreen.

My thick tortoiseshell glasses slide dangerously close to the tip of my nose. Darn it! I shrug, trying to use my shoulder to push them back up. Instead, they free-fall.

“Dammit!”

Instantly blind, everything about this tree-climbing endeavor seems really, really, really stupid. Like leg-shaking, arm-trembling, palm-sweating idiocy.

“Oh God!”

“Mon couchon, you’ve dropped your glasses.”

My stomach roils, twisting and turning, and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. I hear the frenetic tearing of cat claws on bark as Dumpling races back down the tree trunk. Her form is a distant blob, disappearing into the myopia I’ve struggled with since puberty.

“Cat, you need to come down. You’ll be late for work.”

“I can’t, Gran,” I whisper, every part of me quivering, including my voice.

“Can’t? Why not?”

I don’t want to admit I’m wrong, but it’s the elephant in the backyard. “Umm … I climbed too high. I need help getting back down. Do you think Ralph’s home and could bring a ladder over or something?”

“Ralph who?”

The question nauseates me. Before his passing Grandpa got very confused. I can’t stand a repeat of this with Gran.

To top it off, I left my cell phone inside. This is not my day.

“Tilly!” I exclaim. “Won’t she be here soon?”

“Tilly? Yes, of course.” It never ceases to amaze me how Gran can remember some things with perfect clarity, like her beloved home health nurse, yet completely forget a neighbor of thirty years. “But in an hour or so … isn’t this her grocery pick-up day?”

An hour or so? Terror rips through my core, heart racing.

There’s no way. I’m already shaking like a brittle fall leaf in a dust devil.

I won’t be able to last that long. I wedge myself onto a large limb, tangling my legs in its branches, clinging to more overhead, and pressing my back against the trunk.

“I can’t wait an hour,” I gasp, throat tightening. “Oh God,” I whisper, regretting my impetuous move. “I need you to call for help.”

“From whom?”

“Nine-one-one,” I pant, internally kicking myself for my stupidity.

“Are you injured?” Gran asks.

I imagine her scrunching her face skeptically, but I don’t dare look down. Even if I could, she’d resemble a big, peachy, faceless blob. “No, but I can’t get down without my glasses,” I gasp between fast-paced breaths.

Gran heads toward the porch. I whisper a desperate prayer as the tree sways in the breeze. Please, no wind. Not right now.

“Hurry, Gran,” I mutter.

She reappears, cordless phone in hand, stubbornly refusing to make the switch to a cell phone. “What was that number again, Cat?”

I inhale, letting the breath out slowly and trying to calm myself. “Nine-one-one.”

“Please, God,” I talk to myself. “Don’t let me die like this. Give me one more chance, and I promise I’ll start living my life. Not let it pass me by, but actively participate in it. Appreciate it. Spend a little less time on my Tbr and more time on my IRL.”

“Be a little naughty,” Gran chimes in, French accent lilting.

“Yes,” I murmur. “If that’s what it takes. “I promise when I’m out of this tree to do something a little naughty for once … maybe even a little dangerous.” My heart plummets at the last three syllables. “Okay, not height-dangerous. More like romance-dangerous.”

“There’s always that bachelor auction tonight to benefit Roxy’s animal rescue,” Gran calls up to me. “And that handsome Hollywood man will be there …”

“For now, Gran, please just call.”