Chapter 2 - Brock
I've rescued people from burning buildings, pulled drivers from wrecked cars, and once even saved a litter of puppies from a storm drain.
But standing at the bottom of these porch steps, looking up at the woman who just introduced herself as my daughter's best friend, I'm suddenly feeling completely unprepared for this particular rescue mission.
"Chief Sullivan is a bit formal," I manage to say, grateful that decades of emergency response have trained me to speak even when my brain temporarily shorts out. "Brock is fine."
She's not what I expected.
Ellie has mentioned Tasha countless times over the years—her brilliant accounting major friend, her confidante, the level-headed one who kept her from making some questionable college decisions.
I've seen her in photos, of course, usually blurry group shots where she's partially obscured or squished between other students at parties or graduation. Nothing that prepared me for... this.
She stands at the top of the porch steps, backlit by the late afternoon sun, which creates a golden halo around her curls.
She's wearing hiking clothes—practical shorts and a simple tank top—but there's nothing simple about the way they fit her.
Her ample curves are the kind that would make Renaissance painters weep, all soft, feminine perfection that my hands itch to—
I clear my throat, cutting off that dangerous train of thought. "Ellie said you locked yourself out?"
"Yes," she says, "It's completely embarrassing. I went hiking and must have lost the key somewhere on the trail." She runs her hand through her hair, "Thank you for coming to my rescue."
"No problem at all." I climb the first step, then pause, suddenly aware of how small the porch is, how close we'll be when I reach the top. "I keep spares for all the rentals. Just part of the job."
"Still, I appreciate it. I was having visions of sleeping on the porch with melting ice cream for dinner."
I smile at that and climb another step. "Can't have that. Ice cream should be enjoyed properly frozen."
That earns me a laugh. I've spent years not reacting to women—not since Claire died.
Sure, I've dated occasionally, had a few pleasant but forgettable relationships that Ellie barely even registered.
But nothing that made me feel like this, like I'm suddenly twenty years younger and experiencing attraction for the first time.
I reach the top step and now we're standing just a few feet apart. Up close, her eyes are even more striking—a warm amber color with flecks of gold that catch the light. Her lips are full, slightly parted, and I force myself to look away before I start imagining how they might feel against mine.
"I brought the master set," I say, fishing the key ring from my pocket. "I’ll get you back inside quickly."
I move toward the door, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between us. My body is reacting in ways that are entirely inappropriate given who she is.
Twenty-something. My daughter's best friend. A visitor I'm supposed to be helping, not mentally undressing.
The lock turns easily, and I push the door open, stepping back to let her enter first. "There you go."
"My hero," she says with a smile that's likely meant to be playful, but has me wondering how she must look like when she’s moani... I need to stop.
I watch as she bends to pick up her grocery bags, the movement accentuating her perfect bubbly ass in those hiking shorts.
A jolt of desire shoots through me so intensely that I have to shift my stance, grateful that my jeans are loose enough to hide what's becoming an embarrassingly physical response.
This is insane. I'm forty-four years old, not some hormone-driven teenager. I've commanded emergency scenes and maintained calm in literal life-or-death situations.
"Do you need help with those?" I ask, nodding toward the grocery bags.
"That would be great, actually. The ice cream's probably half melted already."
I take two of the heavier bags and follow her inside, trying to keep my eyes fixed at a respectable level rather than on the gentle sway of her hips.
The cabin is one of the town’s newer rentals—open floor plan, modern finishes, but with rustic touches that maintain the mountain town charm tourists expect.
"You can set those on the counter," she says, heading for the small kitchen area.
I place the bags down and take a step back, shoving my hands in my pockets.
"How are you liking Cedar Falls so far?" I ask, searching for neutral conversation.
"It's beautiful," she says, beginning to unpack groceries. "I can see why Ellie loves it so much. Though I haven't seen as much of her as I expected to."
There's a slight hint of disappointment in her voice that makes me frown.
"Grant," I say with understanding. "She's been pretty wrapped up in him lately."
"It's fine," Tasha says quickly. "I'm happy for her. He seems like a good guy."
"He is," I confirm. "My best friend and one of my best firefighters. Steady head in a crisis."
She nods, pulling out a pint of ice cream and checking its consistency with a gentle squeeze.
"This one's still salvageable." She glances up at me, and I'm caught off guard by the sudden hesitation in her expression. "Would you... would you like to stay and have some? I bought way too much for just me, and it seems like the least I can do after you came all the way out here."
The invitation completely catches me off guard. The responsible thing would be to politely decline. I should get back home, let her settle in, and maintain appropriate boundaries with my daughter's friend. That's what the Fire Chief of Cedar Falls, a respected community leader, would do.
Instead, I hear myself saying, "I'd like that."
Her face lights up, "Great! I got chocolate fudge brownie and strawberry cheesecake. Do you have a preference?"
"Chocolate," I say, watching as she reaches for bowls in the cabinet.
Her tank top rides up slightly with the movement, revealing a sliver of her lower back’s smooth skin. I force my gaze away.
"Good choice," she says, scooping generous portions for both of us. "Ellie mentioned you have a sweet tooth."
"Did she now?" I lean against the counter, curious about what else my daughter has shared about me. "What other state secrets has my daughter revealed?"
Tasha hands me a bowl, a playful smile on her lips. "That would be breaking the best friend code."
"So, accounting?" I manage. "That's what you studied, right?"
She nods, leading the way to the small dining table by the window.
"Numbers make sense to me. They're predictable, reliable." She sits, and I take the chair across from her, careful to leave appropriate distance between us. "Unlike people."
"I'll drink to that," I say, raising my ice cream bowl in a mock toast. "Though after twenty years in emergency services, I'd say both people and numbers can surprise you."
"Is that why you became a firefighter?" she asks, genuine curiosity in her eyes. "For the unpredictability?"
The question makes me pause, spoon halfway to my mouth. Most people assume it was for the heroics or the adrenaline. Few ask about the why.
"Partly," I admit. "But mostly it was about being useful. Helping people on what might be the worst day of their lives."
She stares at me, her gaze so direct that I have to resist the urge to look away. "Ellie talks about you like you're some kind of superhero," she says softly. "I used to think she was exaggerating because, you know, daddy's girl and all that. But maybe she wasn't."
"Trust me, I'm very human," I say, perhaps more gruffly than intended. "Just ask Ellie about the time I tried to make Christmas dinner after my late wife died. The fire department almost had to respond to their own chief's house."
She laughs, and the sound is so genuine, so unguarded, that I find myself laughing too.
"So, two weeks in Cedar Falls," I add, "and it sounds like my daughter has been a less than attentive host."
Tasha shrugs, licking ice cream from her spoon in a way that draws my eyes to her mouth and plump lips. "She's in love. I get it. And honestly, I've enjoyed the hiking. The views around here are incredible."
"They are," I agree, though at the moment, the only view I'm interested in is sitting across from me. "Have you made it up to Cascade Falls yet? It's about a forty-minute hike, but worth every step."
"Not yet." Her eyes light up. "That's on my list, though."
"The trail can be a bit tricky to follow in spots," I say, then hesitate, weighing what I'm about to suggest. "I have tomorrow morning free if you'd like a guide."
The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I'm stepping onto dangerous ground. This isn't just showing a tourist around town—it's seeking out time alone with her, away from prying eyes, in the wilderness where there would be nothing to distract me from her presence.
She sets her spoon down, her expression suddenly serious. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose on your free time."
"You wouldn't be," I say, too quickly. "I was planning to head up there anyway. Could use the exercise." It's a lie, but a small one.
"Then I'd love to," she says, and the smile that spreads across her face makes my heart rate kick up. "What time?"
"Eight too early? The morning light on the falls is something special."
"Eight is perfect."
It's only when I glance at my watch and realize an hour has passed that I force myself to stand.
"I should get going," I say reluctantly. "Early start tomorrow."
She walks me to the door, and in the small entryway, we're standing close enough that I can smell the light floral scent of her shampoo. Close enough that if I wanted to—and god help me, I do want to—I could easily reach out and pull her to me.
"Thank you for the ice cream," I say, my voice harsher than it should.
"Thank you for rescuing me," she replies with a small smile. "And for tomorrow. Should I meet you somewhere?"
"I'll pick you up here, if that works?"
She nods. "Perfect."
I step outside, the evening air cool against my suddenly warm skin.
"Goodnight, Tasha."
"Goodnight, Brock."
My name on her lips sounds different, intimate, and sweeter as if she was always meant to say it. I turn and walk to my truck before I can do something stupid like lean in to see if she tastes as sweet as they look.
As I drive home, the reality of what I've done settles over me. I've just arranged to spend hours alone with a woman half my age, a woman who should be forbidden to me. A woman who, in the space of a single hour, has awakened feelings I thought long buried.
I should cancel. Text her tonight with some excuse about work or responsibilities. That would be the sensible thing to do.
Instead, I’m already planning what to pack for our hike and wondering if the small cafe near the trailhead might be a good place to take her for lunch afterward.
I'm in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.
And for the first time in a very long time, I don't care.