CHAPTER FOUR
M orning came earlier than Whitney expected. Slices of sunlight peeked through the blinds as she rolled over on an unfamiliar mattress. She nuzzled into the pillow, smelling a detergent that wasn’t hers, and her eyes flashed open. “What in the ...?” She sighed as she pulled herself to sitting. A decorative throw pillow fell onto the floor, landing with a small thud.
It took a moment, but memories of the last twenty-four hours collided back into place. Baxter’s car, the impromptu road trip, sweet Daisy and her painfully handsome son. Oh boy.
Finger-combing her curls, Whitney slid out of bed and rummaged through her bag for her toothbrush and makeup case. There was no way she was facing either of the Mays without looking her best ... or as close to her best as possible. Cracking the door open, she peered into the hall and didn’t see anyone. Holding her breath, she tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door with a click.
Exhaling, she went to work looking more presentable. After brushing her teeth, washing her face, and putting on enough makeup to look fresh, she was ready for her day. No matter what it brought ...
Down the hall came the heavenly aromas of bacon and cinnamon. Whitney surreptitiously wiped the drool from her chin and headed toward sustenance. As she reached the doorway, she heard Trevor and Daisy talking.
“Momma, I think that’s enough food,” Trevor said. He had a mug in his hand with a fire station logo, his dark red hair slicked into place like he was on his way to work. Gus dozed at his feet, ears splayed out to the side and a trail of slobber puddled under his snout.
Daisy tutted, adding another egg to the pan. “Hush up now. It’s nice to cook for a crowd.”
Trevor snorted but recovered quickly. “I know you miss having a full house, but I don’t think Whitney and I can eat that much. I’ll have to invite over half the station to help.”
Daisy whirled around, her lavender apron flapping into place. “Funny you should say that,” she started, before noticing Whitney. “Good morning, sugar. I trust you slept well?” She wasted no time pouring a mug of coffee and sliding it across the table to an empty place.
Whitney joined the duo, quickly adding a splash of cream and a generous spoonful of sugar to her caffeine fix. “Good morning, Daisy. This all smells heavenly.” She slurped from her mug before bracing herself to meet Trevor’s gaze. The man had this effect on her belly, like she was about to go down the first hill of a rollercoaster, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. “Morning, Trevor.”
He dipped his head in greeting, lips quirking into a smile. “Morning, Whitney. Was everything to your liking in the room?”
It was sweet of him to ask, especially since Whitney wouldn’t complain if it wasn’t satisfactory. “Oh yes, it was great. I had no idea how much I needed to get away until last night.” She flinched at her words, hoping the Mays clan wouldn’t expect her to pour out her heart over a short stack of pancakes. Although if anything could get her talking ...
Her musings were interrupted by a knock at the front door and a familiar voice. “Good morning, Ms. Daisy!” Javi strode into the kitchen and joined Daisy at the stove. He kissed her cheek and washed his hands at the sink before pulling out a seat at the table. He turned his megawatt grin to Whitney. “Hello again, Whitney. How are you on this fine morning?”
Trevor didn’t give her a chance to answer. “What in the hell are you doing here at this hour, Javi?” His question was answered with a playful swat to the back of his head from his mother, and Whitney nearly choked on her coffee.
“Hush up, I invited him. I changed my mind about you borrowing my car. Plus I knew I’d cook for a crowd, and I haven’t fed Javi in weeks.”
Trevor rubbed the back of his head and flipped off Javi as soon as Daisy’s back was turned. Javi rolled his eyes and poured his own coffee. “I’m surprised you’re even vertical. You were still at The Pecan Pit when the three of us left.”
Javi flashed a look to Trevor that Whitney could hardly decipher. She wagered he’d either had a good night or a really good night. “Don’t you worry about me, man. All I need is a little caffeine and a dose of Ms. Daisy’s fine cooking.”
That earned him the first helping of eggs as Daisy filled a bowl with a worrisome amount of yellow fluff. “Here you go, Javi.” Daisy took a break from serving breakfast to top off Whitney’s coffee mug.
Suddenly realizing her manners, Whitney pushed to her feet and tried to step over to the stove. “Let me help you with this. Where on earth are my manners?”
Before she took a step, Trevor reached out and carefully cupped her elbow. It was barely a caress, but Whitney felt his touch from her hairline to her toes. On wobbly knees, she fell back into her seat. “Momma’s got it. She lives for fussing over people, so it’s best to do as she says.” He pulled his hand back and smirked.
“My son is right. Please make yourself comfortable. I so rarely get to spoil people with food.”
Javi doused his eggs with hot sauce before shoveling in a massive bite. Through a mouthful, he moaned and leaned back in his chair. “Ms. Daisy, is this a standing invitation to breakfast, because I’m in love.”
Trevor pointed at his friend with a piece of bacon and sighed. “You’re in love about a dozen times a day, Javi. And my mother’s not your personal chef.”
“Although, if you ever need help, you know where to find me,” Daisy teased as she flipped the last pancake onto a platter.
Placing the dish on the table, Whitney felt like she was in the middle of a Martha Stewart magazine photo shoot. Trevor handed Whitney a plate of bacon, and she pinched one slice for herself. Frowning at her meager helping, Trevor slid three more pieces onto her plate. “You’ll never get out of here alive if you’re not bursting with cholesterol,” he warned.
This was new for Whitney. Never had a man in her life encouraged her eating. Baxter was famous for taking her to fancy restaurants known more for their elite clientele and micro meals than their lavish portions of comfort cuisine. On too many instances to count, he’d left the pantry and fridge bare of anything that wasn’t from a tree or plant, forcing Whitney to hide her own cans of Pringles or Cheetos in the linen closet.
Yet here was Trevor, a man who had known her for a matter of hours, ensuring that not only did she get to eat, but she ate to her heart’s content. “Thank you,” she said, fingers trembling as she plucked a piece and took a bite.
“You’re welcome. You need some syrup for those hotcakes?” Trevor didn’t wait for her to answer, passing her the bottle.
Everyone tucked into their breakfasts, ooh ing and ahh ing over the spread. Daisy flushed with pride and kept piling plates until Javi leaned back and rubbed his protruding belly. “I don’t think I’ll ever eat again,” he lamented, muttering something in Spanish before waving his napkin in the air like a white flag.
“I’m with Javi, Momma. You outdid yourself.”
“I can’t think of the last time I ate this well, especially on a weekday,” Whitney agreed, stacking empty dishes to carry over to the sink.
Trevor helped her clear dishes while Javi put away the syrup and hot sauce bottles. “I hate to eat and run, but my boy and I need to get to work.”
Groaning, Trevor covered his face with his hands. “Please, don’t remind me.”
With his shoulders slumped in defeat, he hardly painted the picture of the happy community fireman.
Whitney cocked her head and studied him a moment before asking, “You don’t like being a fireman?”
Her question sucked the oxygen from the warm kitchen, and she immediately knew she’d stepped on an emotional landmine. Javi whistled under his breath, and Daisy shoved plates into the dishwasher without glancing up.
Whitney shook her head and backpedaled. “Forget I asked, that’s a personal question from a stranger. I should probably pack and hit the road anyway.”
That statement shot three pairs of eyes in her direction. “Hit the road? But you only just got her, sugar. I was hoping you’d come with me to town this morning. I wanted to show you Kim’s shop and the bookstore. It’s called the Cracked Spine. They recently had renovations, and their romance section is to die for.”
“We’re only getting to know each other. Don’t let me down now,” Javi pleaded, his signature grin in place. Whitney was pretty sure this man could talk almost anyone into almost anything.
Whitney looked to Trevor, who was studying her with an unreadable expression. He either wanted to shove her out the door or pull her into an embrace. Honestly, she was hoping for the latter.
“Yeah, you should stay a while,” he said, his voice low.
Daisy wasn’t having it and rushed to Whitney’s side. “We never asked you, where are you headed?”
Whitney opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Where was she going to go anyhow? She wasn’t ready to head back to Savannah, and the thought of missing the fireworks and parade made her chest tighten. Over the years she’d remembered Pinegrove with fondness, but up until now she hadn’t realized how much she missed it.
“Well, I ...” but she was never good at thinking on her feet. She looked like a goldfish out of water as she opened and closed her mouth an alarming number of times.
Finally, Daisy took pity on her. “Whitney, if you’re worried you’re overstaying your welcome, don’t be. It’s so nice having someone in the house again, and you’re more than welcome to stay through the Fourth.”
Trevor’s eyes had never left her, and Whitney couldn’t explain the pull to this man. They’d hardly shared more than a handful of sentences, but there was a charge between them. As ludicrous as it sounded, she wasn’t ready to let him go. “If you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”
“Sugar, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it,” Daisy insisted.
Trevor leaned forward and rested his hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “What Momma said, you’re more than welcome to stay.”
Javi and Daisy exchanged a look that made Whitney’s toes curl in her socks. They were onto something she wasn’t aware of, but she ignored it for now.
“Well, okay. But I insist on paying a nightly rate, like any other hotel or Airbnb.”
Daisy ushered Whitney down the hall. “We’ll discuss logistics later. Why don’t you get ready for a day in town? I’d love to talk about books with a new reader. Maybe grab some lunch?”
Giving in, Whitney went into “her room” and changed into a sundress, all the while telling herself she was making the right decision. It was good to get outside her comfort zone, especially with people like this. There was the sad notion that she was lonelier than she’d realized, and vowed to rectify that situation. Baxter had broken her heart and shaken her self-esteem, but Whitney was ready to start piecing herself back together. Starting now ...
*
“Y ou might as well say something,” Trevor grumbled from the passenger’s seat. His traitorous best friend was behind the wheel, slurping from his mother’s favorite to-go mug. It was covered in daisies and puppies, and for some reason, it made Trevor’s blood boil. “And why did you take Momma’s mug?”
Javi shot him a glance before placing the mug back in the cup holder. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Okay, man, so you want to talk about the merits of coffee vessels? I’m game.” He tapped his temple as he pondered all the options. “Well, I’ve never been a big fan of Styrofoam. It’s hard not to chew on it, first of all, but I feel like it’s probably giving me cancer. I don’t mind a good paper cup, but only if it has the sleeve on it, otherwise I burn my hands. Of course there’s always ...”
Trevor covered his face with his hands and moaned. “You know what’s ridiculous?”
“This line of conversation?” Javi asked, lips quaking with mirth.
“The fact that I know you’d drone on about coffee cups until we get to the station, and even then, you’d only take a break if we got a call.”
Javi shrugged, picked up the floral cup, and took a long pull. “I mean, you’re not wrong. I’m only trying to figure out why you’re so pissed.”
“Really? You don’t understand why I’m pissed?” Trevor’s voice rose, despite not understanding his own mood swing. Ever since he’d laid eyes on Whitney, he’d been a walking, talking contradiction. He simultaneously wanted her on the road and in his bed. No woman had even turned his head since Virginia stomped on his heart.
“Wouldn’t have asked if I did.” Javi turned down the radio and hummed to himself for a minute until Trevor broke.
“Okay, I’m pissed about a lot of things. This whole thing”—he paused and flapped a hand in front of the windshield—“is just a bridge too far. I can’t handle this on top of my work bullshit. It’s too much, Javi. She seems nice and ...” Tripping over his own tongue, he couldn’t find all the words to list every single one of Whitney’s nice attributes.
Javi mimicked his gesture and sighed. “First of all, that’s probably the best thing that’s happened since Virginia pulled a runner.”
Trevor scoffed. “A stranger coming to town to bunk up with my mother is a good thing? How do we know she’s not crazy and some type of grifter?”
“Pfft, if Whitney is a grifter, then she can grift me for all I’m worth.” That statement earned Javi a punch in the shoulder from Trevor that caused the car to jerk. “Easy, man,” Javi said, rubbing the sore spot. “For someone who’s not into her, you’re sure protective.”
And he knew it. Trevor couldn’t explain why he was so worried about Whitney for her sake, not his mother’s. Daisy Mays could not only handle herself, but she didn’t trust just anybody. If Whitney passed the Daisy test, she was likely a good person.
“I can’t explain it,” he muttered, staring out the window as Pinegrove flew by.
At least it was summer, his favorite season. The town was alive in every possible way. The trees were green and lush, the air was warm and welcoming, and Main Street was bustling. He had so many fond memories of summers in his hometown, they threatened to choke him in his current state.
Last night when he struggled to fall asleep, he thought about Whitney and showing her how much had grown and changed since her girlhood trips to Pinegrove. He wanted to take her out for cotton candy and watch the fireworks, take her down to the creek for the duck races, to steal her away into the woods for stolen kisses.
Trevor’s musings were interrupted when the fire station came into view. Javi pulled into his normal spot and clapped Trevor on the back. “Look, man, I’ll drop the Whitney thing for now.”
“Thank you.”
Holding up a finger, he urged, “But you need to see this as the gift it is. You’ve been in a funk since Virginia left, and clearly the Hastings promotion is bullshit. Whitney is hot, nice, and could provide the perfect distraction.” He waggled his eyebrows, earning another shoulder punch before they got out of the car.
Chief Warren was in the bullpen getting the team ready for their morning huddle. Every shift he’d meet with the group to share their tasks and objectives for the day. Unfortunately for Trevor, he knew that involved nothing but hose duty and inventory. He dropped his things at his desk and joined Javi and teammates Dylan Flax and Malcolm “Smithy” Smith by the coffee maker.
“Listen up, team,” Chief said, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Hastings will pull a small team together to investigate that fire in the warehouse district. I know that several of you have shown an interest in this project, and Hastings will follow up if you’ve been selected.” His gaze landed on Trevor for a split second before he continued. It was all the recognition he got, and it curdled his stomach. Suddenly his momma’s hotcakes were cement blocks in his gut. Damn Hastings.
The man himself stood and went beside the chief, hands on his hips and smug expression on his face. He took a moment to look at everyone before listing the teams. “When Chief is done, I’d like Ortiz, Flax, and Smithy to join me in my office.” His voice was reminiscent of a football coach on Friday night, and Trevor bristled. He’d give up his entire career for one swift punch to that idiot’s jaw.
“Thank you, Captain,” Chief Warren said, clearing his throat. “I’d like Mays to assist our probie Maxwell with inventory today. We’ll regroup with new projects later this week.”
The group was dismissed, and Trevor sighed. It was impossible not to be disappointed to be on probie duty. Granted, Tiffany Maxwell was a damn good firefighter. She’d transferred to Pinegrove from Columbus, eager to put down roots with her husband and their growing family. Despite having given birth the year before, she still bench-pressed more than half the men in this room.
“Hey, Mays, want to meet in the garage for inventory?” Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement over the mundane task, and Trevor’s shoulders sagged. It was not her fault his career was stalled, and he wouldn’t take it out on her.
“Great idea, Maxwell. Give me one minute to get more coffee.” She shot him a thumbs-up and headed toward the garage. Trevor took a moment to gather a clipboard and inventory form before filling his coffee and heading out.
Despite the mundane task at hand, he was eager for a distraction from Whitney, his libido, and his jacked-up heart. The last thing he wanted was more drama, and it was in that exact moment that Chief Warren waved him down. “Lieutenant, can I have a moment?”
Trevor wanted to tell his mentor that now wasn’t a good time. His emotions were raw, his skin too tight, and, honestly, he was angry with the world. “Sure thing, sir.” He pivoted toward the chief’s office and collapsed into the seat opposite the desk. His finger tapped a rhythm on the clipboard until Chief Warren sat down.
“Son, I know this isn’t easy.” He waited for Trevor to acknowledge his statement, but he remained silent. “But we’ll find some bigger projects for you to work on. This is a temporary glitch.”
Trevor ground his teeth together, struggling not to vent his frustrations on his superior. “I’m sure they will, Chief.” He didn’t mean it, because he knew that Hastings’s promotion set him back years. There were not a lot of retirements planned in this precinct for quite some time, so unless someone quit, he was stagnant. He bristled and made to stand, eager to end this impromptu heart-to-heart.
And that fact made him even angrier. His time with Chief Warren had been among his favorites. The man had been in Trevor’s life for as long as he could remember, and when the chief took Trevor’s father’s position, it felt like the only thing that made sense. Now, though, Trevor was listless and alone. It was a horrible sensation he couldn’t shake.
Chief studied Trevor another moment before he sighed and scratched his chin. “Look, I know this isn’t what you’d want, but I can put some feelers out to other stations outside this precinct. There will be other promotions sooner than this station, if you don’t mind relocating.”
Correction, now Trevor really felt like crap.
“You want me to leave Pinegrove?” He edged forward in his seat, heat coloring his cheeks as he wrapped his head around the idea of leaving his hometown, family, and friends.
Holding up his hands, Chief shook his head. “No, that’s not what I want. Not only are you an excellent lieutenant, but I know it would kill your momma to have you far away. She’s already sad Jessie doesn’t come home often.”
This statement brought Trevor to his feet, nearly knocking the chair to the floor. He knew Javi was right about Momma and the chief, but hearing the chief discuss his family was setting Trevor on edge. All he’d ever heard Daisy say out in company was how proud she was of Jessie for traveling and helping others with the Peace Corps, yet the chief had firsthand examples of his mother’s true feelings. It was just too much.
“Is there anything else, Chief? Maxwell is waiting on me in the garage.” Trevor’s back was ramrod straight; his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He didn’t think he could take much more of the world laughing at him.
Chief studied him a moment before shaking his head. “No, son. I’m sorry it’s been a rough few months, but we can figure this out. Things have a way of working out, we need a little faith.”
“Faith.” Trevor snorted. “No offense, sir, but I don’t have a lot of that right now.” He turned to leave, but Chief’s last question stopped him in his tracks.
“Keep an eye on your new visitor, will you? Daisy is excited to have the company, but I’m always wary of out-of-towners.”
The hair on the back of Trevor’s neck stood up. Very few people knew Whitney was staying with his mother, so she must have called him herself. Trevor’s head dipped down until his chin rested on his chest. The whole world was spinning and living without him.
“I don’t think we’ll have any problems.” He let the door close behind him with a snick and strode to the garage. He only hoped that counting hoses, ropes, tools, and helmets distracted him from the cluster that was quickly becoming his life.
Four hours later, Trevor’s back ached from hunching over stacks of supplies in the garage. Sweat dripped from his temples, and he wondered why the air conditioning wasn’t churning at full power. It was just one of many little things he’d noticed since Hastings took over, small details other captains would notice.
“Did you get that last pressure valve?” Maxwell asked as she leaned against the pump panel. She flipped to another page on the clipboard, sweat beading on her upper lip. “Did we count five cones or six for truck number four?”
Trevor strode over to the collection of cones and recounted. “Yep, it’s six.”
Maxwell nodded and clicked her pen closed. “Then inventory is officially done. Not bad for a day’s work.” She pushed off the side of the truck and smiled.
Lord, how Trevor envied her positive attitude. They’d spent an entire shift counting and sorting through myriads of firefighting equipment. He was grateful that Chief had teamed him with the bright-eyed probie, because otherwise Trevor probably would have grumbled through the entire project. “Thanks for your help, Maxwell. It’s good having you on the team.”
Maxwell covered her chest with her hand and pretended to swoon. “Oh! Knock it off, Mays. Otherwise, I’ll think you have a heart.”
She’d started at the station the week Virginia left him, and Trevor hardly pretended to be polite when Maxwell had peppered him with questions. Once Javi shared the horrible news, she backed off and relied on other teammates for training and support. That didn’t sit right with Trevor, because he normally relished the chance to train new recruits.
“Pfft, the jury is still out on that, Maxwell. Seriously, thank you for your help with this. We got it done faster than I thought.”
“Let’s celebrate with some candy, my treat.” Maxwell pulled out her wallet and tossed a few bills at Trevor. “You mind grabbing me a Twix?”
Trevor took the cash and saluted. “You got it.”
Trevor went inside to the vending machines and got Maxwell a Twix and himself a Snickers bar. Maybe a little afternoon pick-me-up would put him in a better mood. He hated the notion of coming home to Momma and Whitney with a bad attitude.
Before he had a chance to dissect that thought, he heard a voice that used to make his heart sing. “Oh, baby, not now.” A familiar giggle punctuated that sentence, and Trevor nearly ran back into the garage, ready to strangle himself with a utility rope.
Slowly turning around, he spied his ex-fiancée and Hastings in a lip lock better suited for an R-rated movie. “How can I keep my hands to myself when you show up looking like this?”
“You’re messing up my makeup, baby,” Virginia warned, pulling back to adjust her hair.
The whole damn team was at their desks, pretending to work. Smithy typed on a laptop that wasn’t even turned on, his eyes locked on the drama. Javi caught Trevor’s eye and mouthed Sorry as Trevor walked past. Maxwell joined him and took her candy, patting his shoulder in sympathy as she went to her own desk, one Twix already shoved in her mouth.
Trevor kept his head down and hoped that Virginia and Hastings finished their PDA session without giving him notice, but of course that wasn’t to be.
“Oh, shoot, hey, Trevor!” Virginia waggled a manicured hand in his direction. “How are you doing, honey?” Her voice dripped with insincerity, her frown as fake as her nails.
“Good afternoon, Virginia. I’m doing well, thanks.”
She waited a beat in case he was going to inquire about her, before stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I’m so sorry it didn’t work out with the promotion, but you know how things go with city council.” Her lips pursed in an approximation of sadness before she went back to her default setting of casual indifference.
“I sure do,” Trevor said, forcing the biggest grin as he chomped into his candy bar. A peanut broke free and clattered to the floor.
Hastings, displeased that his girl was talking to her ex, shouted, “Mays, knock it off.”
Trevor stifled a sigh and finished his snack, molars mashing into the chocolate with more force than was necessary. “Not sure what you mean, Cap.” He tossed the wrapper in the trash and swiveled his chair to face his computer. He just dismissed the whole situation, and silently begged for Hastings to leave it all alone.
No such luck.
“Don’t you disrespect my girl like that.” In three quick strides, Hastings was at Trevor’s desk, his chest heaving.
Trevor remained seated, looking up at his captain with a saccharin-sweet expression. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I did anything wrong. I had a brief conversation with Miss Virginia, but now it’s time to get back to work. Didn’t you tell us not to bring our personal lives into work, sir?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge, savoring the sight of the throbbing vein in Hastings’s neck.
Right after Hastings and Virginia got together and he got the promotion, he spent ten minutes of a staff meeting droning on about how no one in the station should discuss their personal lives on the clock. It was a clear attempt to avoid probing questions about the musical chairs between Virginia and Trevor, but nonetheless he pushed the issue.
Trevor knew he was in the right, and so did Hastings. “I don’t like your tone, Lieutenant.”
Now Trevor was on his feet. Behind him, Javi left his desk to join his buddy. “Captain, I think this is all a misunderstanding,” Javi urged.
Apparently bored with the outburst, Virginia linked her hand through Hastings’s elbow, and said, “Baby, can we go back to your office? I need to tell you about our dinner plans at Daddy’s club.”
Hastings wasn’t having it. “You’re getting written up for insubordination, Mays. Right now.” He stabbed his finger into the air, spittle falling from his mouth. He looked more rabid dog than man in that moment, and Trevor was almost afraid. Almost.
“I don’t see how I’m being insubordinate, Captain.”
The air in the bullpen was thick with tension, and only the sound of the ticking wall clock was heard. “Get in my office, now.”
“Do we have a problem here?” Chief Warren asked, emerging from his office to investigate the hubbub. “Captain, what seems to be the issue?”
“Mays is being disrespectful to me and my fiancée.”
Fiancée?
That was the last straw.
Only together a matter of months, and Virginia was already engaged? Trevor quickly glanced down to her left hand, and sure enough it held a diamond that sparkled like the sun. It was twice the size of the one he’d given her a year ago, and his stomach roiled. Granted, he didn’t want Virginia back, that was a fact he’d accepted months ago, yet his pride took a beating that she was able to move on that quickly from him.
“Congratulations,” Trevor muttered to Virginia, who finally had the manners to look embarrassed.
“Thank you, Trev.” She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, averting her gaze from everyone.
“My office,” Hastings insisted.
Chief raised his voice. “No, how about my office.” He looked at Trevor, and said, “Dismissed for today. We’ll discuss tomorrow, first thing.” Turning back to Hastings, he said, “Please see your fiancée off, then come to my office.” Looking back out to the bullpen, he added, “And everyone else get back to work.”
Everyone scurried to their corners, and Trevor grabbed his messenger bag and stomped out to his car.
He vibrated with nervous and angry energy. He needed to clear his head, and he knew just what to do.