Chapter 5 #2
The last thing I need is Brittany anywhere near this festival. Or near me. Or especially near Hazel. She never liked Brittany. I don’t want to give her a reason to stay away from me.
I stare out my office window toward the coffee shop. Through the glass, I can see Hazel moving around inside, probably helping her parents with the lunch rush. She’s wearing the same lightweight jacket and jeans from this morning, and every few minutes she laughs at something her father says.
She looks... lighter today. Less guarded than she has since she got back.
My phone buzzes with a text from Sam:
Heard you’re putting my sister to work on the festival. Good strategy.
I frown and type back:
What strategy?
Sam takes forever to type. Keeping her busy so she doesn’t think about leaving. Mom’s already planning Thanksgiving dinner for five instead of four.
The words hit me harder than they should.
Hazel’s only been back four days, and already the Brennens are making plans for her staying.
But so far, she’s not planning on staying.
She’s here for a month, then gone again.
I don’t know where she plans to go or if she’s looking for another job while she’s here. I can’t let that happen.
She clearly hasn’t told Sam or her parents what happened to her, and I’ll keep my mouth shut, but nobody’s stopping me from taking advantage of the situation. If she wants to leave her parents’ house in a month, she can just move into my place.
The corner of my lips twitch as I envision her reaction if I just went up to her and said so outright. She might just strangle me with the pumpkin themed garland I saw her carrying in the coffee shop.
“Hey Luke, you got a minute?”
I look to the door and see Marcus Thompson standing in the doorway.
“What’s up, Mac?” I ask.
He walks in, his dark hair carrying some silver streaks.
Mac has been with the Fire department for longer than I have.
When the previous Fire Chief, Robert Galor, retired, Mac was the one who was initially offered the position as Fire Chief, but he turned it down for reasons unknown.
I was a Captain at that point, and he offered the promotion to me, choosing to remain Assistant Fire Chief.
He’s an easy going fellow and a good mentor.
“Jenna is down with the flu. She’s taking a week off. Just sent me her doctor’s prescription. She sounded like hell over the phone. Just wanted to let you know.”
“Got it.”
He nods at me and is about to leave when I stop him. “Hey Mac, got a question for you.”
“Shoot.” He looks at me with his steady ice blue eyes.
“How do you convince a girl you’re not boring?” Maybe I didn’t phrase it right, but the question is out there now.
“What?” He blinks in confusion.
Awkward, I shrug. “If there’s a woman you want to get with but she broke up with you because she found you boring, what would you do?”
He studies me now. “Some girl call you boring?”
“Just tell me.”
He closes the door behind him, leaning against it, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Well, it really depends why she found me boring in the first place? Maybe you’re not good in the sack.”
My eyes tighten. “That was never a problem.”
He shrugs. “Maybe you weren’t spontaneous enough. You might not have been planning dates which were very exciting. Some girls like excitement.”
“What’s an exciting date?” I give him a blank look. “Like bungee jumping?”
“Maybe something romantic,” he muses. “I don’t know. I’m forty-five. My dates are going on walks and to the movies and cooking together.”
“And that’s going so well for you,” I point out dryly.
“Hey.” He points a finger at me with a grin. “I’ll find my ladylove soon. I’ve not given up hope just yet.”
I watch him leave and try to think back to the dates I used to take Hazel on when we were young. I was pretty broke at the time, so going to the movies was considered an amazing date. But we’d end up making out just as the movie started and never really got to the end of any of them.
My computer pings with an email, dragging me back to reality. It’s from the mayor, asking about security arrangements for the bonfire lighting ceremony. The biggest event of the entire festival, and my responsibility.
I start typing a response, but my mind keeps wandering to Hazel. To the way she felt against my back last night when I carried her home. To the flatness in her voice when she told me about Derek’s betrayal. To the hunger in her eyes this morning.
A knock on my door interrupts my planning. “Come in.”
Gabe Rodriguez pokes his head in, his grey hair tousled. “Chief, we’ve got a situation at Miller’s Orchard. Mrs. Miller’s been experimenting with apple cider donuts, and the fryer’s acting up. Smoking pretty bad.”
I grab my jacket from the back of my chair. “Call it in to dispatch, then round up whoever’s available. Probably just needs a good cleaning, but better safe than sorry.”
As we head out to the truck, I catch another glimpse of Hazel through the coffee shop window. She’s writing something on the specials board—probably adding more autumn-themed drinks to tempt the festival crowds.
Today’s special: Maple Pecan Latte, the board reads in her neat handwriting.
Today’s special.
“You know,” Gabe says, following my gaze, “my cousin Maria works at that tech company in Burlington. Always looking for good people. If Hazel’s really staying...”
“She’s not staying,” I say automatically, then catch myself. “I mean, she hasn’t decided yet.”
Gabe grins. “Right. Well, if she changes her mind, Maria could probably hook her up with something local. Remote work, maybe. Best of both worlds.”
The suggestion plants itself in my brain like a seed. Remote work. She could have her career and stay in Autumn Ridge. Have her cake and eat it too.
If she had the right motivation to stay.
By the time we reach Miller’s Orchard, black smoke billows from the kitchen window of the farmstand. What Mrs. Miller described as “smoking pretty bad” is actually a full-blown grease fire that’s spread from the fryer to the wooden prep counter.
“Shit,” Declan mutters from the passenger seat. “That’s not just a cleaning job.”
I radio for additional units as we pull up. “All available units to Miller’s Orchard. Structure fire with possible extension to the main building.”
Mrs. Miller is standing in the parking lot with her arms wrapped around herself, her face pale with shock. “It happened so fast,” she calls out as we jump from the truck. “One minute the donuts were frying fine, the next minute the whole counter was on fire.”
The second engine arrives with Dante Romano and Ash Kane, followed by the rescue truck carrying Bash Chen and Nolan Cross. Ryan Kowalski pulls up in the utility vehicle with Mac, an EMT with them.
“Anyone still inside?” I shout, already pulling on my gear.
“No, no, everyone’s out. But my kitchen... all my equipment...”
Gabe and Mason are already unrolling hose lines while Declan and I do a quick assessment. The fire has spread along the grease-soaked wooden surfaces but hasn’t reached the main structure yet. We can save the building if we move fast.
“Gabe, take the exterior line, and hit it from the window,” I order. “Mason, you’re with me inside. Declan, ventilation on the roof. Dante, back up line to the rear. Ash, foam supply. Bash and Nolan, search and clear the main building. Ryan, scene safety. Mac, command support.”
The next twenty minutes are controlled chaos.
Smoke fills the small kitchen as we work to knock down the flames, the smell of burning grease and charred wood thick in our masks.
Mason moves like a veteran despite being one of our younger guys, anticipating my needs before I voice them.
Outside, I can hear Dante calling out progress on the back side while Declan works to clear smoke from the roof.
“Fire’s out in the kitchen,” I radio to dispatch. “Checking for extension to the main building.”
We sweep through the connected areas, looking for any signs the fire spread beyond the kitchen. The orchard’s main store is filled with smoke but undamaged. The family’s living quarters upstairs show no signs of fire damage.
“All clear,” Mason reports. “No structural damage. Looks like we caught it in time.”
As I’m rolling up the hose in the kitchen, a piece of smoldering debris falls from the ceiling, grazing my forearm just above my glove. It’s barely more than a scrape—the kind of minor burn that happens on half our calls—but I grimace and shake my arm more dramatically than necessary.
“You okay, Chief?” Gabe asks, noticing my reaction.
“Yeah, just caught a piece of something hot.” I examine the small red mark on my forearm, which is already starting to sting. “Nothing serious.”
Mason glances over and frowns. “That doesn’t look too bad. Want me to grab the first aid kit?”
“Nah, I’ll clean it up back at the station.” I flex my arm, testing the range of motion. It barely hurts, but something in the back of my mind is already calculating how this could work in my favor.
By the time we finish overhaul and investigations, it’s well past one o’clock. Mrs. Miller’s kitchen is a loss, but the building is structurally sound, and her business can survive this.
“Thank you,” she says, tears in her eyes as she surveys the damage. “If you hadn’t gotten here so fast...”
“That’s what we’re here for,” I tell her, pulling off my helmet and trying not to wince too obviously as I move my injured arm. “Your insurance should cover most of this. And Mrs. Miller? Maybe stick to buying donuts from the diner for a while.”
She laughs shakily. “Don’t worry, Luke. I think my donut-making days are over.”
The drive back to the station is quiet, everyone tired from the call.
I flex my injured arm as I drive, examining the small red mark on my forearm.
It’s barely even a burn—more like a scrape with a bit of redness around it.
The kind of thing I’d normally ignore completely and forget about by dinner.
But as I pull into the station bay and check the clock on the dashboard, an idea starts forming. Nearly two-thirty. Hazel would have seen us leave on the call—the coffee shop is right across the street. She’ll know why I’m late, but I should still get over there.
I park the truck and head inside to grab the festival planning materials, my pulse already quickening at the thought of seeing Hazel again.
This time, I’m keeping my shirt on. No point in overwhelming her on day one of our... collaboration.
As I gather the vendor contracts and safety checklists, Gabe appears in my doorway. “Chief, you sure you don’t want to clean up that burn? It’s starting to look a little angry.”
I glance down at the red mark on my forearm, then back up at him with a slow grin. “Actually, I think I’ll leave it for now.”
Gabe frowns, clearly confused. “But—”
“Trust me,” I say, tucking the papers under my arm. “I need it exactly like this.”
The look on Gabe’s face is priceless—like he’s trying to figure out if his Fire Chief has lost his mind. But as I head toward the door, I can’t help but smile. Time to put my plan into action.
I glance at my reflection in the office window, straightening my uniform shirt, making sure my muscles are on display. I feel like a peacock but I don’t care.. Time to see if Hazel Brennen is ready to play.