Keeping Pace

Chapter 1

Pace

The early-September morning was cool this high up in Cozy Creek, Colorado, but the midday sun would keep it warm enough for a T-shirt later today.

Not that I was even wearing a shirt right now as I jogged through downtown in just my “slutty little workout shorts” as Claire called them.

My best friend Levi’s fiancée had no qualms poking fun at me and, unlike many of the ladies of Cozy Creek, tourists and locals alike, never seemed charmed by my ways.

She finds them to be “attention seeking.”

Pfft.

She just liked her men grumpy and antisocial.

To be sure, these shorts were scandalously cropped, showing off as much of my thighs as possible while keeping me decent.

“Good morning, Pace,” a pack of early-morning gray-haired speed walkers sing-songed as they approached from the opposite direction, arms swinging, hips sashaying, neon tracksuits swish-swishing. I hopped to the side of the path to let them by, never breaking stride.

We were on one of several asphalt paths that more or less wove through Cozy Creek. Following the trail as it wormed through the small town known as the “best worst-kept secret” could provide a decent five-mile jog to start the day.

I spun and kept jogging backward as they passed. “Morning, ladies. Looking good today,” I said, throwing in a wink for good measure. They tutted and giggled like schoolgirls.

“Where are the rest of the boys?” they called before I was out of earshot.

“I guess they would rather sleep than get a chance to enjoy this beautiful morning.”

“Well, lucky us, we get you all to ourselves,” another said.

Their snickers and obvious stares gave me the ego boost I needed to finish the rest of my run with extra pep.

“The boys” referred to my firefighter brothers who usually joined me on these daily morning runs.

But Tate, my fellow fireman and running pal, had been distracted lately, and Cole, his brother and incidentally my boss as chief, rarely ran these mornings now that he and Madi were so hot and heavy.

And for whatever reason, the rest had bailed on me this morning.

It didn’t help the feeling of restlessness growing in me.

I wanted to shoot the shit with the guys and not have thoughts.

Thoughts were dangerous.

At least I’d seen more of my best friend, Levi, since he met Claire.

Ironically, despite my best efforts to get him out of his hermit life, it was the arrival of his now fiancée that allowed him to shake loose the cobwebs of his loss that tied him down.

He wasn’t a firefighter like the rest of my close friends, but we’d grown up together.

He’ll always be a quiet artist type, so I need to have my firehouse family to balance out my active social life.

I stopped to catch my breath and take a big glug from the public water fountain in the center of town.

I wiped my mouth with my forearm before leaning forward to brace my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

The sun was just coming up over the surrounding peaks of the Rockies, illuminating our picturesque town in a glowing pink hue.

I smiled and took a deep breath in and out, even as the cold air caused goose bumps over my skin.

See, I was fine. Endorphins were pumping, and the sun was warming my face. All was well.

I should be happy. Things were good. My best friend was a hermit no longer. My parents were healthy, and my brother and his wife had given me two rambunctious nephews.

I straightened and rubbed at the area just above my chest where I’d been having some aching tension lately.

I’d already asked the local doc about it when she came in for the biannual health checkup in the firehouse.

She said I was fit as a fiddle. No surprise there.

But she suggested maybe talking to someone—I cut her off there and then.

I was fine. I never shared my own burdens; I was the guy who helped carry others’.

Not that I even had a complaint.

I did wish one of the other guys were here so I could give them shit about their tumultuous dating lives. Or maybe Levi was awake and I could—

No. I wasn’t doing that. I could be alone on an early-morning run. I was a grown-ass man.

So all was good, except for that random chest pain.

I wasn’t thinking about that. Pace Leigh didn’t have bad thoughts; he wasn’t weighed down with troubles.

He was the good-time guy, the hot firefighter, best friend of the local reclusive artist. We had our roles to play, and that was mine.

I’d been the goofy younger brother all my childhood.

Then Kaylee’s easygoing boyfriend throughout high school, and now I carried the best-friend role and good-time guy into the station.

Nobody needed to worry about me. Nobody needed to stress because I had nothing to complain about.

A wisp of a cloud moved over the small slit of sun that had been warming my face, and another shiver wracked my body.

A breeze blew through the streets of Cozy Creek, shuddering the leaves on the trees that lined the park and streets.

The leaves hadn’t quite started to change yet here in town, but the surrounding mountain ranges showed the aspens were beginning to yellow.

The streets around me were beginning to wake up. Soon, the shops would be bustling with tourists and locals alike. I decided to run a few more miles until the adrenaline and exhaustion pushed out whatever this overthinking bullshit was. Then I’d hit the gym for arm day.

A few hours later, after fueling up with a smoothie from GiGi’s (and heavy flirting with the morning clientele there), I showered and changed into clothes more appropriate for the young families headed to school—jeans and a fire station T-shirt.

Okay, so the shirt was a little tight, but why not share the gift of this body with passersby?

I walked down Main Street toward the Lily Carmichael Gallery, waving to my neighbors.

The smell of the colder weather was just a hint in the air, and the shops had already begun to advertise recipes with cinnamon and apple, pumpkin spice, and caramel.

It was hard to believe that we were rounding the corner to yet another holiday season.

It felt like things were changing, and yet I remained constant.

Cozy Creek and I, at least, would always be the same. Because I was nothing if not reliable.

The bell announced my arrival as I stepped into the gallery.

Lily’s was a clean, sparse space. Compared to the eclectic maximalist stylings of so many shops in town, it was very modern and chic.

The simple white walls held art from the namesake herself, along with a few local artists.

Set down in some of the corners or raised on platforms, depending on the size, were Levi’s sculptures made from various types of reclaimed wood.

“Good morning, Lily,” I said to the large black-and-white portrait of Levi’s mother, front and center of the gallery, as I walked in.

It was one of the few self-portraits she ever took.

With the camera propped over her shoulder, facing a mirror behind her, she looked straight through the lens into my soul.

She was maybe in her early forties here; there were a few laugh lines bracketing her mouth and some creases in her forehead.

She was as beautiful as I remembered her to be before losing her to her painful illness.

I was glad Levi found this photo to remember her by.

Her eyes were dark and thoughtful like Levi’s, focused on some distant point, lost in thoughts and emotions.

Artists.

I brushed the heavy wooden frame with reverence as I passed and headed into the back.

A new piece of untouched wood sat on a tarp in the center of the small office, taking up most of the floor space.

It seemed incomprehensible that this piece of wood would eventually be transformed, but Levi’s skills never ceased to amaze me.

The wood had a hint of red woven through its light coloring, and half of the block was charred, as if it had been pulled out of a bonfire.

To me, this looked like a forgotten piece of dug-up tree given for fire fuel, but I’d seen the results enough to know it would be transformed into an incredible work of art.

If Levi was the emotional equivalent to a hearty meal of steak and potatoes, I was the bag of chips you scarfed down when you were too hungry to make good choices.

Levi was examining the piece when his head shot up, and he greeted me. I clapped him on his back and came to stand by his side after our hellos.

“Thanks for coming so last minute,” he said. “The company had two guys drop it off, and I need to get it into my truck, but Claire said she’d kill me if I hurt myself trying to move it alone.”

“No problemo. I’m free as a bird today. Where is the future wifey?”

“She’s back down in Slippery Slopes, New Mexico, for an assignment. Strange little town.” He shook his head as he mumbled it.

“I heard some of the wild stories from Claire on our last bowling night. Something about naked skiing, maybe I should check it out?” I teased, playing my part.

Levi huffed a laugh and said, “Let me grab some gloves, and we can get moving. The truck is backed up to the employee entrance from the alley. The open door had to be wide enough as the original guys were able to get it in, but it is going to be a tight squeeze.”

Through the opening, Levi’s old, reliable truck sat, and in the window, a tiny gray head poked up from the rear seat.

“Hi, Ripley. Are you going to come give me a kiss?” I said in the charming voice I reserved for the ladies in my life.

Her whole body shivered with excitement, but apparently, I wasn’t worth the effort. She presumably went back to the comfort of her bed as her head dipped out of sight.

“Love you too,” I muttered.