Книга - Her Holiday Fireman

Her Holiday Fireman
Kathleen Y'Barbo


A HOLIDAY HE’D NEVER FORGET From his first encounter with the feisty redhead, widower and fire marshall Ryan Owen knows he’s in trouble. He’s in Vine Beach to heal, not to find romance. As for Leah Berry, she’s come home strictly to lay claim to her family’s restaurant and fend off developers.Leah is infuriated when Ryan shuts down the restaurant on violations. Both are determined to have their way, even as something unexpected starts blossoming between them. They’ll need to learn the hardest thing about love and faith—letting go.Second Time Around: Widowers find that love can bloom again…







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A Holiday He’d Never Forget

From his first encounter with the feisty redhead, widower and fire marshal Ryan Owen knows he’s in trouble. He’s in Vine Beach to heal, not to find romance. As for Leah Berry, she’s come home strictly to lay claim to her family’s restaurant and fend off developers. Leah is infuriated when Ryan shuts down the restaurant on violations. Both are determined to have their way, even as something unexpected starts blossoming between them. They’ll need to learn the hardest thing about love and faith—letting go.


“Get. Out. Of. Here,” Leah said through clenched jaws.

The dog paused long enough to blink, then returned his attention to Baby, her oversize orange tabby, whose hissing and howling did nothing to help the situation. Leah waved her magazine at the dog, but the animal ignored her completely.

A shrill whistle split the air. The dog froze and looked back toward the open door. Another whistle and he made a hasty exit.

Leah stormed out in pursuit of whoever owned the disaster with paws only to slam into a wall of gray fabric.

The collision knocked her backward, and she saw stars. A pair of strong arms caught and pulled her upright.

“Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine,” she said, though her field of vision was limited to a gray Firemen’s Training School T-shirt. Moving her gaze higher, she recognized her rescuer as someone who looked very familiar.

Ryan Owen.


About the Author

KATHLEEN Y’BARBO is a multipublished bestselling author of Christian fiction and nonfiction with over thirty books to her credit. She writes historical novels for Waterbrook Press and is the coauthor of two nonfiction books on divorce and empty nest syndrome. A tenth-generation Texan, she holds a marketing degree from Texas A&M University and a certificate in paralegal studies. Kathleen is the proud mother of a daughter and three grown sons.










Her Holiday Fireman

Kathleen Y’Barbo










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


As charcoal to embers and as wood to fire,

so is a quarrelsome man for kindling strife.

—Proverbs 26:21

“It’s just dinner.”

—Robert Turner


In memory of Ryan Euan,

for a life well lived in a time far too short, and

for those in whose hearts he will continue to live.


Contents

Chapter One (#u03f62ac8-a7d2-5a68-9a87-178266cfdc1a)

Chapter Two (#u00955d7b-44d4-5ac5-ace6-e8dd84951f97)

Chapter Three (#uf41f1222-cc52-5a71-8be3-f92626d0a232)

Chapter Four (#ue8755682-2eb7-5a11-a87b-52fdd3619738)

Chapter Five (#u62305067-5636-5619-aea0-9d27c1032c30)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Teaser Chapter (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

“Leah, somebody needs to tell the guy at table seven that we closed twenty minutes ago. He just ordered another plate of fried shrimp then had the nerve to ask me to bring him a dessert menu.”

Leah Berry looked up from the list she was making to see the young waitress scowling at the offending customer. Dark hair, muscles and a leave-me-alone expression marked him as a guy who wasn’t expecting company or, apparently, planning to leave, even though the sign on the door was clearly marked with the news that Pop’s Seafood Shack was only open for lunch on Wednesdays until 3:00 p.m. from the first of November through the end of the year. It was now 3:20 p.m.

Much as Leah needed to get over to the stables and see to the horses, it wasn’t worth losing a customer over. If she’d learned anything since she left her curator’s job at The Galveston Preservation Society last spring to run the family restaurant, it was that the customer came first.

“Be nice and go fill his tea glass,” she said firmly. “And smile when you hand him that menu.”

The waitress, barely out of her teens and more set on a modeling career than one in food service, opened her mouth to complain then obviously thought better of it. Kate Murdoch hadn’t quite taken to being a waitress but she was willing to work for what the restaurant could afford to pay her during the winter season. Plus, her father was the mayor of Vine Beach and an old friend of Pop’s. Much as Leah hoped Kate made a success of her modeling dreams, she didn’t wish for it to happen soon.

Grabbing a menu with one hand and the tea pitcher with the other, Kate wound her way through the maze of tables to where the stranger sat mesmerized by the view of the Gulf beyond the wide expanse of windows. He offered the waitress a nod then went back to gazing at the water again. Leah watched to make sure the future super model offered no evidence of her irritation.

“I told you we needed a rule about ordering all-you-can-eat in the last hour before closing,” Kate said when she breezed past to deposit the empty plates. “He’s picking at the shrimp and staring out the window. Seriously. I’m so over this.”

“He probably just doesn’t realize we’re only open for lunch on Wednesdays,” she offered to Kate’s retreating back.

Orlando, her father’s best pal and the only cook Pop’s Seafood Shack had ever had, stepped into her line of sight. Arms crossed over his barrel chest, Orlando seemed to study the U.S. Navy tattoo on his forearm before lifting his gaze to Leah’s.

“What?” she asked softly as she once again set her work aside. “We hold the kitchen open until the last diner’s done. House rules, even on Wednesday. You know that.”

“Don’t get all riled up, Lee-Lee.” The cook went back to studying the inked insignia as he managed a shrug. “Just thinking of the bottom line. Overtime for the two of us plus all that food the guy’s putting away means you’re losing a whole bunch of money. I’d put up the closed sign and flash the lights, if it were up to me.”

Leah sighed.

He reached to touch her shoulder. “Look, kiddo, I know it ain’t the way your pop would’ve done things but this is a new day.” Orlando sent the diner at table seven an irritated look. “And new days call for new ways. That home you’re keeping your father in ain’t cheap, and I know you’re not making enough here to cover what the insurance doesn’t.”

When Orlando got in a mood, humor was always the best remedy. “So you’re saying I should stay open on Wednesday evenings, too? What would the choir down at Grace Bible do with their star baritone stuck behind a stove frying shrimp?”

Tossing his apron aside, the cook headed across the room, hit the switch on the open sign and slid the dead bolt on the door. When the guy ignored the gesture in favor of reaching for his tea glass and draining it, Orlando made a great show of returning to the kitchen. The diner, however, returned to his menu as if nothing had happened.

“Least now we guarantee no one else shows up,” Orlando grumbled as he snatched his apron and stalked back to the grill.

The man in question looked up. Their gazes collided, and Leah nodded. Apparently it was time for dessert at table seven. She turned to call for Kate only to find her dressed in her street clothes. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ve got a date.” She gestured to the clock on the kitchen wall. “Seriously, you remember what it’s like to be in love, right?”

Not really. Leah bit back a response and nodded. “Go. This time.”

Kate was gone before Leah could say anything further. Again the sole remaining diner met her gaze. Pasting on a smile, she grabbed for the order pad.

“Ready for dessert?” she said as sweetly as possible. “Pie’s good today. Chocolate, coconut and—”

“Banana cream,” he said along with her but his Texas drawl drowned out hers. “Yeah, I know.” He set down the menu and she noticed his dark blue T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of the Houston Fire Department. “But what I’d really like is another round of redfish. Then we can talk about pie.”

“Redfish,” she echoed.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” His gaze swept the room before once again focusing on her. “I’m surprised this place is so empty. The food’s not bad.”

Not bad? Leah opened her mouth to offer a candid response then thought better of it. “Well,” she said carefully, “it is Wednesday.”

“Yes,” he said slowly but obviously without a clue, “it is.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Orlando walking toward the control box for the lights. Leah shot him a look before returning her attention to the diner.

“So...” Leah paused. “Redfish?”

“Redfish.” He dismissed her by picking up his phone.

“Redfish,” she echoed as she returned to the kitchen. “And not a word from you, please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Orlando said, though his expression stated the opposite.

She returned to the table with the tea pitcher in hand. “Sweet, right?”

This time, the fireman offered a dazzling smile. “Yes,” he said as he pushed away his phone to offer up his tea glass. “Thank you.”

His smile caught her by surprise. She glanced down at the brochures spread across the tabletop. “Looking to rent a place?”

He hurried to shove aside the pages. For a moment he seemed to be trying to decide how to answer.

Leah finished pouring the tea then set down his glass. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that it’s rare we get renters down here this time of year and...” His expression remained unreadable. “I’ll just go check on your food.”

When she pressed through the kitchen doors, Orlando gave her a look over his shoulder before nodding to the half-filled plate. Leah frowned and silently filled up the remainder of the platter with shrimp and headed toward the dining room. The old cook meant well, but she’d not let Pop’s high standards slip for the sake of the balance sheet. If they lost money on the handsome fireman, so be it.

A covert glance told her the fireman had folded away his real estate papers. “Here you are,” she said with a smile. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thanks.”

“All right then. Enjoy.” She tucked the tray under her arm and took a step away from the table.

“Wait.”

Leah turned to scan the plate and then the table. “Did I forget something?”

His gaze was steady but his expression softer. “No. I did.”

She waited a second before shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”

“My manners.” He studied his hands then looked up at her. “It’s not exactly my best...” The fireman shook his head. “No excuses. I’ve been rude. Please accept my apology.”

Any lingering irritation at having to stay open well past closing time evaporated. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We all have our bad days.”

“Yeah,” he said under his breath as he looked away.

An awkward silence fell. “Okay, well,” Leah said, “I’ll just let you enjoy your shrimp.”

“Wait. If you’re not in a hurry, can you answer some questions about Vine Beach?”

* * *

Ryan clamped his mouth shut. Had he actually asked a total stranger for help?

Yup, he had. But her eyes were kind. And he was tired of being alone. Especially today.

He dared a look at the redhead and saw that she seemed to be considering the question. “You don’t have to,” he hurried to add. “I mean I’m... I was just thinking maybe you could fill me in. I’m new here.” He gestured to the stack of real estate listings, meager as they were. “Guess you already figured that out, though.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the older fellow watching them from the kitchen door and then she nodded and sat. “Sure, why not?”

Ryan reached across the table to offer his hand. “I’m Ryan,” he said as his gaze collided with wide green eyes, noted a sprinkling of freckles. “Ryan Owen.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ryan Owen. I’m Leah.” Her grasp was firm as she took his hand.

“Just Leah?” he said.

“Leah Berry.” She paused only a second as if gauging whether the name held meaning to him. “So, what brings you to Vine Beach?”

There were a dozen possible answers. He decided on the easiest. “Work. Apparently the city’s been without a fire chief since...”

“Since my father’s illness,” she supplied.

Now what? With those green eyes pointed in his direction, his mind went blank. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed to say.

“No, it’s fine. He’s...well, it was time for him to retire. Welcome to Vine Beach,” she said with the beginnings of a smile. “I’m glad the position’s been filled. Pop would be glad, too.”

He let out a long breath. “Maybe he could give me some pointers, then.”

Her smile disappeared. “I don’t know. He’s not...well.”

“Right. Sure.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d just stomped all over a touchy subject. “So, anyway, I’ve kind of put everything off until the last minute and now I’m scrambling for a place to stay. I thought I’d just get a hotel room but apparently the hotel’s closed until February.”

“Yes, the owners spend the winter with their children in Florida. I always thought it was funny to leave one beach to vacation at another one.” She chuckled. “But then I’m easily amused. Anyway, I might be able to help you find a short-term rental until you can figure out where in Vine Beach you’d like to live permanently.”

Permanently. That word and Vine Beach refused to fit in the same sentence as far as Ryan was concerned.

“Don’t need much. It’s just me and my dog.” He reached for the real estate papers. “I can’t make much sense of these. Looks like my choices are pretty slim. Either take a room over the beauty shop courtesy of my new boss or spend a whole bunch to rent a big place on the highway.”

“Hmm....” She picked up the first paper and began to scan it. “Ima’s Beauty Shop or the highway? Slim pickings indeed. Let me see if I recognize any other local addresses in here.”

While she read, he watched, something that felt oddly natural given the reason for today’s lunch. Mourning his late wife, Jenna, wouldn’t bring her back, and neither would keeping the promises she’d extracted from him before she died.

And yet here he sat keeping at least one of them, the one about moving to the beach, while working hard to remember the others. Something about the redhead’s smile made him feel better about giving up everything he’d worked for to come and live at the beach where he’d be starting over with not much hope for advancement. When a guy was chief of a department where he was the only paid employee, the only ladder to climb was the one on the ancient and apparently little-used fire truck.

“Here’s one.” Her gaze lifted to meet his. “It’s two blocks from the high school and walking distance to downtown.” She turned the paper around to point to an ad he’d somehow missed.

“Three bedrooms, one bath and a fenced yard,” he read. “Sounds perfect. What’s the number?”

He punched them into the phone as Leah read them off. A moment later, he had the landlord on the phone. “So it’s already leased,” he said after he’d given the man the reason for his call. “Thanks anyway.”

Leah made a face and Ryan chuckled despite his dashed hopes. “Apparently the new science teacher at the high school got to the place before me. Oh well.”

“Oh well indeed.” She set the paper aside. “I’d offer our barn but I don’t think it’d be too comfortable what with the holes in the roof and the lack of heat or plumbing.”

He followed her gaze out the window toward a broad expanse of rolling grassland populated with a dozen or more golden palomino horses. Off in the distance was a building of substantial size, its wooden exterior silvered with age. Just beyond the barn was a smudge of black on the horizon, possibly the burned ruins of a home. His interest immediately piqued.

Ryan’s attention returned to the barn. “Is that yours?”

“It is,” she said, her voice soft, almost dreamlike. “It’s been in the Berry family for generations. The house, too. Or, rather, it was until recently.”

He shifted to look at the ruins again. “It burned?”

“Yes, back in March.” She shook her head. “Hey, you know what? There are a whole bunch of weekly rentals here that I bet are sitting empty. I’d rent you ours but I’m living in it right now.” She shook her head. “Don’t ask.”

He laughed. “All right. Any suggestions where to start?”

“I’ll make a call. How can I reach you?”

Ryan tore off a corner of one of the real estate papers and reached for a pen. Jotting down his cell phone number, he handed it to Leah. “Don’t need much. Just a place to sleep and maybe a yard for the dog. Beach view would be ideal, but I doubt that’ll happen.”

He could hope though. Nothing like waking up to the sound of waves just outside his door.

Leah’s brows gathered. “You have not because you ask not. At least that’s what the Bible says. So, you start asking and I’ll make a call or two and see what I can find out. When do you need the place and how long are you planning to stay?”

“Now,” he said. “Last week, really. It’s already Wednesday and I start work Monday morning.”

“Oh, goodness. Okay, so how long?”

“Six months?” By then he’d have fulfilled his promise to Jenna and could be on his way back to the Houston Fire Department. At least that had been the plan when he had applied for his leave of absence.

The redhead folded the paper in half and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans then rose. “I’ll get right on this. In the meantime, can I bring you some pie? It’s—”

“Banana cream,” he said along with her. “Yes, please, but maybe I ought to get it to go.”

Again her brows furrowed. “Why’s that?”

He nodded toward the old cook who’d been eyeing them suspiciously for the past five minutes. “I’m guessing I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Ignore Orlando. He tends to be a bit overprotective.”

Ryan snatched up the check and opened his wallet. “Nothing wrong with that. So how about I settle up this bill while you box up a slice of pie?”

Only when he climbed behind the steering wheel of his Jeep with the pie on the seat beside him did the reality of what he’d just done hit him. Not only had he invited a strange woman to sit with him on what would have been his first wedding anniversary, but he’d ended up giving her his phone number.

Closing his eyes, Ryan rested his head on the back of the seat and let out a long breath. When would this get easier? As he backed out of the parking lot of Pop’s Seafood Shack he had a feeling things were about to get a whole lot worse before they got better.


Chapter Two

Orlando now stood at the entrance, his stance unmistakably paternal. “What happened over there?”

“Just helping a stranger to find a place to live in Vine Beach. Apparently he’s taking Pop’s old job as fire chief.” At Orlando’s surprised expression, Leah continued, “It’s fine. He seems nice. I told him I’d make a couple of calls.”

“How about you let Riley Burkett help that stranger?”

She thought of the Realtor whose recent marriage to the town veterinarian’s mother had caused him to scale back on his real estate business. “I thought he wasn’t going to work during the off-season.”

Orlando shrugged. “Won’t know unless you ask him.” His eyes narrowed. “Besides, you don’t know this man from Adam and I’d rather you not get too involved in his personal life.”

She shook her head. “Are you serious? I don’t know a thing about Ryan other than the fact he’s looking for a place here.”

“Ryan is it?” Orlando shook his head.

Leah linked arms with Pop’s best friend. “He’s the new fire chief, remember? I was just being nice.”

Orlando gave her a skeptical look before placing his weathered hand over hers. “Any fellow who wants to spend time with you will have to spend some time with me first.”

She almost opened her mouth to remind Orlando that she was, in fact, well past the age where she needed that sort of supervision.

“I’ll be sure to let you know soon as a fellow wants to spend time with me. Now, go on home. I don’t mind finishing up here.”

“I’ll go, but lock the door behind you.” Orlando paused to glance across the highway. “Guessing you’ll make a stop at the stables before you go home.”

She shrugged. “Until I can afford to hire someone to do it, I’m in charge there, too.”

Orlando’s expression softened. “Maybe it’s time to let those horses...”

“Go?” Leah shook her head as she thought of the half-dozen palominos that were left of the once-expansive Berry herd. “I can’t do that, Orlando. Not yet.”

She released her grip on the man who’d taken over where Pop left off then felt the unexpected sting of tears. With a quick hug and a word of thanks, she sent Orlando on his way. Then, turning the lock behind her, Leah set to work. By the time she stopped, the place had been thoroughly mopped, shined and polished, though it didn’t really need a bit of it. But she felt better, or at least she’d worked out the majority of her frustration.

Pop had been decidedly worse when she’d visited this morning. Though she knew she’d eventually lose him to Alzheimer’s disease, Leah mourned every step on the way down the slippery slope.

A few minutes later she’d locked up and driven the short distance across the highway to her favorite part of the family property, Berry Hill Stables. Carefully avoiding looking over in the direction of the burned-out shell that remained of her family’s pre–Civil War home—the latest casualty of her father’s inability to function safely on his own—Leah turned toward the pasture. There the last remaining horses from the once-plentiful herd were waiting.

“No ride today, Maisie,” she said as climbed up on the bottom rung of the fence and petted the palomino mare’s sand-colored mane. While Leah was busy with Maisie, the mare’s partner in crime, a glorious filly named Boo, ambled up and nudged at the pocket that both horses knew would contain their favorite snack.

Leah pulled out two apples, offering one first to the impatient Boo then to the more tolerant Maisie. The sound of tires on gravel caught her attention, and her heart sank.

“Oh, please. Not today,” she said under her breath.

Jack Murdoch—land developer, current mayor of Vine Beach and an old friend of Pop’s—honked his horn, sending the skittish Maisie and the rest of the herd galloping for open pasture. Boo, however, munched on her apple from a safe distance as the pickup approached. By the time the old man pulled his truck to a stop a few feet away and turned off the engine, Leah found she could force a smile. No matter how she felt about Mayor Murdoch and his real estate investors, she’d not allow him to see it on her face.

The old man’s gaze swept the horizon, no doubt taking in the ruined home, the still-sturdy barn and various outbuildings that dotted the vast golden prairie. Bordered by the horizon to the north and the beach to the south, Berry land also included Pop’s Seafood Shack and the little oceanfront cabin where she now lived.

“Good afternoon, Mayor. What brings you out this way?” she said, anxious to be rid of her guest.

“Had a nice visit with your daddy just now.” He smiled. “Told me to tell you he misses seeing you.”

“I was there this morning,” she said before she could stop herself.

Pop’s memory issues often caused him to forget who’d come to see him. It took all she had not to remind the mayor of this. Instead she kept her mouth shut even as she began to aim her prayers skyward. If the Lord answered quickly enough, Leah just might find a way to remember her manners.

“He also told me to tell you he’d be just fine with you letting all this go.” The mayor swung his attention to meet her stare. “You know that restaurant ain’t up to fire code, and the house over there ought to have been torn down the night it burned. It’s plain foolishness that keeps both of them standing.”

Leah’s fists clenched. Still she said nothing. Though it was quite possible Pop said just that, it was also true that he’d neither remember nor agree with the idea should she ask him next time she saw him.

Not that it mattered, for she had the final say in all legal matters now, not Pop.

Finally the mayor let out a long sigh. “Look, honey, we’re on the same side here.” Murdoch rested his elbow on the open window of the truck. “All the boys and I are trying to do is help.”

“Then, please, let the boys know I appreciate their concern. However, Berry land is not for sale. Not now, and not ever.” She mustered up one last sweet smile. “So, thank you for the visit, but now that you’ve delivered your message, I hope you’ll understand that I’ve got things to do.”

To punctuate her statement, Leah turned her back on the mayor and headed for the barn. She’d almost reached the weathered barn doors when she heard the truck engine roar to life.

“I’m just trying to make things easier for you, Leah. I don’t understand why you insist on being so stubborn,” he called over the sound of the engine.

She picked up her pace, stuffing her fists into the pockets of her jeans. Between Pop and Mayor Murdoch and Vine Beach’s annoyingly handsome new fire chief she’d just about had it with people for today. And while she could do nothing about the lingering worry over her visit with her father, there was something she could do about Jack Murdoch.

Intent on calling the care facility to have the mayor removed from the list of approved guests for Pop, she realized she’d left her phone in the car. Just as well, she decided, for that was a task better undertaken after she’d calmed down a bit.

The mayor whipped around his vehicle to drive between her and the barn. “Look, I came out here as a favor to your daddy. One day you’re going to wish you’d listened to us.”

“Thanks for stopping by, Mayor Murdoch. I’ll be sure and tell Pop you were here.”

Leah slipped inside the cool shade of the barn and waited until the mayor was gone. Only then did she give vent to her anger. Thankfully, the pitchfork was nearby. As she stabbed the implement into the fresh hay, all Leah could think was that while the Lord knew what He was doing, she had absolutely no clue.

* * *

Ryan returned to his house in Houston’s Heights neighborhood just as the sun was setting. Climbing out of the Jeep, he could hear his bullmastiff’s bark of greeting from the backyard. “Hey, Chief,” he called. The For Rent sign was gone—likely picked up by the Realtor this afternoon—as was the lockbox that had hung on the front door.

He stepped into the front parlor of the house he and Jenna were supposed to have shared together, then shut the door behind him. Ignoring the memories and regrets that danced around the blanket-wrapped furniture and across the oak floors, Ryan made his way through the maze of boxes stacked in the dining room to slip out the kitchen door. The deck was broad and shaded, the swing gently swaying in the crisp November breeze.

The old swing was his thinking place, the spot where he went to sort out whatever was bothering him. More than one of his buddies had suggested he go see a grief counselor to deal with the lingering guilt of Jenna’s death. Maybe someday he would, but not until the Lord made it obvious that it was time.

Chief came loping toward him, a ball in his massive jaws. He scratched the dog behind the ear then tossed the ball far into the yard. As the bullmastiff gave chase, Ryan’s phone rang.

The number was unfamiliar, but the area code was not. Vine Beach, Texas.

“Owen here,” he said by habit.

“Hi, Ryan, this is Leah. Leah Berry?”

The dog crossed the deck to deposit the ball at Ryan’s feet. Once again he threw it. “Leah, yes, hi.”

“Hi.”

Her pause let him hear the ocean in the background, a sound that made him smile. For all the reluctance he felt leaving Houston and the fire department, he certainly had no problem living at the beach. If only the circumstances were different. Then maybe...

“So, I gave your name to a friend of mine from church. His name is Riley Burkett. He’s a part-time Realtor and he may have a few rentals for you to check out.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Again the waves crashed in the background, a stark contrast to the sound of traffic on Heights Boulevard and the persistent noise of a car alarm going off in the distance.

“Are you at the beach right now?”

“I am,” she said.

“Then I’m jealous.”

“You’ll be here soon enough.” She paused. “So, anyway, Riley knows you’re in a hurry to find a place. He said he would try to catch you tonight so maybe the two of you could go out looking tomorrow. I told him I’d let you know he would be calling.”

“Hey, that’s great. I owe you, Leah.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I could help.” Another pause, this time punctuated by the screech of a gull and what sounded like the meowing of a cat.

“Thanks. And I mean it. I owe you.” He took a deep breath and let it out swiftly.

“No need to owe me, Ryan. Really. I’m glad to help a friend.”

He hung up not knowing whether the friend she referred to was him or this fellow Burkett.

Chief now dropped the ball at Ryan’s feet. This time he ignored it to step inside, allowing the dog to follow. He’d kept out just enough in the way of kitchen utensils to scrape together a grilled-cheese-and-tomato-soup meal. And while it wasn’t bad, it certainly didn’t compare to the seafood feast he’d had for lunch.

Ryan looked down at Chief who waited discreetly for any scraps that might come his way. The company had been better at lunch, too.

He let his mind rest on Leah for just a moment. Although she’d been a little wary, or angry, or both, he couldn’t deny that she was...pretty.

Chief gave him a look as if he could read Ryan’s mind, then lay down at his feet. Ryan leaned over to scratch the dog behind his ear then tossed him the remains of the grilled cheese.

“She’s just a nice lady who offered to find a...” Ryan rose, shaking his head. It was the one-year anniversary of his wedding to a woman he’d barely been able to build a life with before he’d lost her. He was in no position to think of anyone as “pretty.”

He opened the back door and let Chief out, then stood in the twilight. The car alarm had ceased, and the road noise had quieted to allow the sounds of the night to rise. Snagging his Bible off the counter, he made his way to the swing and settled down under the porch light.

His reading this morning had come from Exodus, a passage detailing the tribe of Israel’s flight from Egypt by way of the less-traveled road. Ryan estimated he’d read that passage dozens of times, and never had he noticed that when the Lord finally allowed the tribe to make their escape, He did not take them through the most direct and obvious route.

Ryan opened his Bible to read the passage again. This time he had to wonder: Was God doing the same thing with him? Was Ryan following Him down the less-obvious route—one that led through Vine Beach, Texas—or was he merely allowing a deathbed promise to send him in the wrong direction?

Ryan went to bed that night turning the question over to the Lord and awakened without an answer. But at least he had a plan. And that was better than what he’d had for the past year.

The next afternoon, Ryan arrived at the address Riley Burkett had given him. Situated across from the City Hall building where Ryan would have an office starting Monday morning, Burkett Realty was on the ground floor of a century-old building that also housed a beauty salon and a clothing store. Both were decorated for fall despite the warm salt-tinged breeze and the complete lack of fall foliage on the trees surrounding the courthouse and adjoining Vine Beach Gazette building.

When Ryan stepped inside Burkett Realty, he was kept waiting only a minute before a woman who introduced herself as Riley’s wife, Susan, ushered him into a back office. Burkett was an older man with a head full of gray hair, a fact that surprised him given the enthusiasm he’d heard on the phone. With a pace much quicker than Ryan expected, they made short work of visiting the handful of rental properties available for long-term lease.

He settled on a one-room furnished cabin situated a few steps from the sand with an upstairs deck that ran the length of the house. The yard was small, something Chief wouldn’t much like, but it was fenced and that would have to do.

After returning to Riley’s office to sign the lease, all that remained was to head back to Houston for the few things he’d be bringing with him. The movers would deliver the rest of it to storage. Then there would be nothing left to remind the new tenants of the man who never managed to bring his new wife home to the house in the Heights.

“You’re all set,” Burkett said. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually there is,” Ryan said. “I’ll be looking for a church down here. Any recommendations?”

Burkett grinned. “Glad you asked, son. I can help you with that.” He wrote down the name and address of a church on the back of his business card then handed it to Ryan. “I head up a widowers group called Starting Over, and Susan and I mentor the newlyweds.”

Widowers group. Ryan glanced down at the card.



Riley Burkett, PhD, LPC

Certified Grief Counselor



“Wait. I thought you were a Realtor.”

“I am.” The older man looked down at the card he’d given Ryan. “Don’t know how that card got into the wrong place.” He gestured to a second cardholder. “I meant to give you one of those. Want to trade me?”

“No,” Ryan said slowly. “I think this is the one I’m supposed to have.”

“Really?” He gave Ryan an appraising look. “And why is that?”

“Long story.” He paused to weigh the lease in his hand. For a second he considered telling Riley about Jenna, but the words wouldn’t come out. “Thanks for your help.”

Riley looked at Ryan carefully. “Anytime, son. Anytime.”

As he shook Riley’s hand, Ryan wondered if he could talk to Riley, if he could find some relief from the guilt that seemed to follow him around and weigh him down like a boulder on his soul. After all, he couldn’t keep it to himself forever.

As he left the office, Leah stepped out of the beauty salon and right into his path. “Hey, stranger,” she said, her impossibly green eyes stopping him in his tracks.


Chapter Three

“So you found a place?” Leah asked Ryan, noticing the lease he held in his hands.

“I did, thanks to you,” he said. He smiled at her for a moment, and then looked down at the painfully eye-catching, oversize zebra-and-pink disposable sandals she wore postpedicure. Meant only to get her from salon to car, Leah had certainly not expected to be greeting Ryan in them. Nor did she intend to show off the pink flowers Ima had painted on both of her big toes to just anyone. She felt herself blush as Ryan’s smile became a grin.

“So,” Leah said as she affected a casual pose and tried to act as if the ridiculous footwear and silly flowers were as normal as the sneakers Ryan wore, “tell me about your new place.”

“According to the rental ad, it’s steps from the water with an efficient layout and recently remodeled kitchen and bath,” he said. “Pretty much describes every place Burkett showed me except the one up above the beauty salon. The difference with this one is that the owner was willing to lease it for six months instead of by the week. That’s a testament to Mr. Burkett’s persuasive powers.”

“Yes, I can imagine he’d be persuasive.” Across the way Jack Murdoch’s truck pulled into the parking space reserved for the mayor. Leah purposefully returned her attention to Ryan without acknowledging the older man’s wave. “The place sounds wonderful,” she said.

“It’s nothing fancy, but it’s much better than living over Ima’s Beauty Salon, that’s for sure.”

“Living on the beach takes some getting used to, but it does beat inhaling chemicals and listing to blow dryers and Frank Sinatra all day.”

“Just Frank Sinatra?”

“Ima’s a big fan of Ol’ Blue Eyes.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry. There’s a barber shop up on the main highway, so it’s likely you’ll never have to experience it unless you’re called on to do a fire inspection or something.”

He gave the front window of Ima’s a quick glance then grinned. “I’ll take your word for it. Now, other than Pop’s—where I’m sure you’ve dined a time or two—is there a good place for lunch in this town?”

“Lunch?” She thought a minute. “There’s the Pizza Palace, but I don’t know if it’s open for lunch. Frankly I avoid it unless I’m babysitting for the Wilson girls because the noise is deafening and the pizza isn’t exactly gourmet fare.”

He glanced up at the sky then down the street. “I have an idea. Where’s the nearest deli?”

“Inside the Beach Mart on Vine at Main,” she said. “Just around the corner. Why?”

“How about we have a quick lunch, so I can thank you for all your help? Maybe a few sandwiches on the beach?”

Leah’s first thought was that she should turn him down. After all, he was a stranger. And also the new fire chief.

She looked at Ryan’s hopeful expression, and changed her mind.

It was just lunch. Not a date. Just a thank-you. And apparently it would be deli food from the Beach Mart.

Just then, the mayor stepped out of his truck. “Great,” she said under her breath.

“Leah?” the mayor called.

Ignoring him, Leah regarded Ryan with a smile. “Sure. Why not?”

“Great,” Ryan said. “Let’s take my Jeep.”

“Wait right there,” Leah said as she held up her hand to silence him. “I need to...” She pointed to her toes then headed for the front door of Ima’s, escaping the mayor easily. “Just hang on, okay?”

Once inside, the sound of Frank singing “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” chased her across the room and into the corner devoted to Ima’s boutique items. There amid the rhinestones and sequins that covered all of the clothing and most of the accessories, Leah found the adorable sandals she’d been eyeing for the past month.

Snatching up a pair in her size, she found Ima and retrieved her debit card. A sly glance out the front window told Leah that Ryan was leaning against the Jeep, arms crossed and his attention focused down the street. Mayor Murdoch was heading for the courthouse door.

The music paused then switched to the unmistakable introduction to “Strangers in the Night.” “I thought you were waiting until these went on sale.” Ima rang up the purchase then handed back the card to Leah, her heavily mascaraed eyes sweeping the length of her. “Guess you can’t go on a date in a pair of throwaways, can you?”

Leah slipped out of the disposables and then pulled the sandals from the box. “It’s not a date,” she said as she balanced on one foot to carefully slide into the shoe. “It’s just...” She paused to repeat the process then tuck the temporary sandals into the empty box. “Ryan’s new to Vine Beach and...never mind. It’s just lunch. Not a date.”

“I don’t know, hon,” she said as she turned her attention out the window. “That handsome fella? I doubt he’s thinking it’s just lunch.”

She slid another covert glance outside. Ryan had shifted positions and now watched her through the window. When their gazes met, he grinned. Oh, my, but he was handsome.

Leah looked away, collecting her idiotic thoughts. “Don’t be silly,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “He’s taking Pop’s job as fire chief. Why would I want to invite that kind of trouble? Can you imagine what my father would say if he found out?”

“Carl didn’t take it well when he had to step down, I’ll give you that,” Ima said. “And then there were the questions about...” She shook her head. “Never mind. Strictly speaking, as someone who knew your pa since we were knee high to a grasshopper, I guarantee he’d like anyone you like.”

“Miss Ima, really it’s—”

“Not a date. Yes, I know. Still your father would be pleased. Or at least he would have if that Alzheimer’s hadn’t...” Ima waved a hand that sparkled with a hefty sample of the rings and bracelets she offered for sale. “Forget I said anything. Just go and enjoy your date. And, girl, those sandals look adorable with your outfit.”

“It is not a date.” She looked down at the denim capris and plain black T-shirt she’d thrown on this morning when her entire plan was to have a pedicure then read on the beach until it was time to head over to Pop’s for the evening crowd. “But thanks.”

Ima nodded, her expression indicating the moment the door closed she’d be on the phone telling someone what she’d just seen. And heard. Though likely she’d forget to mention that Leah had indicated several times over that this was not a date.

She emerged into the November sunshine and offered Ryan a penitent look. “Sorry you had to wait.”

He opened her door, then closed it behind her. When he’d settled behind the wheel, he offered a sideways look. “Nice shoes.”

Leah couldn’t help blushing for the second time in ten minutes.

* * *

Ryan tried not to cringe. Nice shoes?

He mustered a smile as he buckled his seat belt and started the car. “So, that grocery store? Where was it again?”

Leah nodded toward the south. “It’s on the corner of Vine and Main.”

He backed out of the parking space and headed in that direction. “So you’re okay with a picnic?”

“Definitely pro-picnics,” she said with a chuckle.

“Great.” If she’d said she preferred some kind of indoor dining, he’d be back at Pop’s again. Not where he wanted to take her on their not-a-date.

Besides, Burkett had mentioned that the spot offered a good view of the burned-out ruins of the Berry home.

The Beach Mart was easy to find, situated as it was on a corner just beyond the church and nursing home. He parked the Jeep but lagged a step behind Leah as she headed inside.

He wanted to thank Leah, absolutely. But he also had become more than a little curious about the fire at Leah’s family home. After all, he was the new fire chief.

Of course, there was another reason for this picnic—a tiny spark of hope that threatened to flare into something really nice. Maybe even a friendship. Nothing more, of course. Just friends.

Because this was just lunch.

A get-to-know-each-other lunch.

A thank-you lunch.

Get a grip, he told himself.

“So,” Leah said, “where are we going for this picnic?”

“Mr. Burkett told me about a place he takes his grandkids fishing. It’s over by the lighthouse. I thought it might be nice to go take a look,” he said as they headed back to the Jeep with their food.

“I know just the place you’re talking about. Pop used to take me there. It’s perfect.”

A few minutes later, Ryan stopped the Jeep in front of the old lighthouse. According to Mr. Burkett, the place had been standing longer than any building in Vine Beach, an honor that belonged to the Berry place until a few months ago.

Ryan had tried quizzing Burkett about the fire, to no avail. Only the information about the dock’s view had been forthcoming. Apparently the subject was a sore one in Vine Beach, one a newcomer best not bring up.

But as fire chief it was his duty to investigate suspicious fires. And though he’d not seen the ruins close up, the fact that questions on the topic caused such discomfort was reason enough to suspect something was not right.

Of course, could he ask Leah about the fire without stirring things up between them again?

Snatching the bag of sandwiches and drinks, Ryan turned his back on the lighthouse to follow Leah down the sandy trail that wound between the grassy dunes. A bend in the path and suddenly there was the Gulf of Mexico lapping against a dock that jutted far out into the blue-gray water. To his left was the city of Vine Beach, almost close enough to hear the gulls begging at the marina, and straight ahead beyond the dock was what appeared to be an island.

“That’s Sand Island,” Leah said as if reading his mind. “It’s a great place to picnic, too.”

“Duly noted.”

Ryan shifted the bag and glanced to his right. Burkett was correct. From this vantage point he could easily make out the broken and charred columns—three at his count, though there could easily have been four or five.

The house sat on a ridge overlooking the Gulf on one side and, from what he could imagine, rolling fields where palominos grazed on the other. It must have been a beautiful place.

Leah came up beside him and shaded her eyes with her hand. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, silently she turned to walk toward the dock.

Ryan followed her, watched her spread the Beach Mart plastic tablecloth over the ancient boards, and then settled down beside her to place the bag of food and drinks between them.

Below the dock, waves lapped against the pilings then rushed past to break on the sandy shore. Unlike the beach, however, these waves were gentler. More motion than foam.

“There’s a sand bar about forty yards out,” Leah said as she handed him his pastrami on rye. “It keeps the surf from breaking so hard.” She found her sandwich then tucked the bag under the tablecloth. “Makes for great fishing and, if you’re a little kid, some seriously good swimming.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” he said as he unwrapped his lunch. “Must have been quite a view from up at the house.”

“It was.” She said the words softly, as if she might be remembering. And then, just as quickly as it appeared, her look of nostalgia disappeared.

Ryan knew he had to tread softly.

He searched for something to fill the silence that lengthened uncomfortably between them. “Have you always worked at Pop’s?”

She chuckled. “No. Pop wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted I get my education and see the world.”

“And you did?”

“I did.”

When she didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, Ryan continued. “But now you’re back in Vine Beach.”

“I am.” A trio of gulls screeched overhead, temporarily distracting her. “So, Ryan, what makes a Houston fireman decide to leave the big city behind and take a job in Vine Beach?”

Interesting. Either Leah didn’t want to talk about herself or she didn’t want to talk about the fire. He took a bite to stall the answer that he didn’t want to give.

“Miss Leah!” a child squealed.

Ryan followed the sound to spy a fair-haired girl of no more than seven or eight racing down the path. A few steps behind came Riley Burkett carrying a pair of cane poles and a small cooler.

Giving thanks for the welcome redirection in conversation, Ryan left his sandwich and climbed to his feet. “Hey there,” he said.

“We meet again.” Burkett grinned at Leah as she rose to hug the girl. “Hope we’re not crashing the party.”

“No,” Leah said. “Not at all. Ryan and I were just having a sandwich to celebrate his new lease.”

Ryan gave her a sideways look. Is that what they were doing? Celebrating? He hadn’t thought of it that way, but the idea bore considering.

“’Preciate you giving Ryan my number, Leah,” the older man said as he set down the cooler at the edge of the dock. “I think he managed to find a nice enough place, don’t you?” He winked at Leah.

Leah shook her head, puzzled. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it. But it sounds nice.”

Riley looked confused. “I thought—”

The girl raced past to tug at Burkett’s sleeve. “Grandpa Riley, can we fish now?”

“Sure we can, Brooke.” He nodded toward Ryan. “But first I’d like to introduce you to a new friend of mine.”

She looked up at him all eyes and freckles and her smile revealed two missing front teeth.

“I’m Ryan,” he said as he stuck out his hand to shake. “What’s your name?”

“Brooke Wilson. Just Brooke, not Brookie. My daddy calls me Brookie but he forgets I’m not a baby sometimes.” She gave Ryan an appraising look. “Are you Miss Leah’s boyfriend?”

“No,” he said in unison with Leah. Chuckling, he added, “Pleased to meet you, Brooke Wilson.”

Leah nodded toward the cooler. “How about I help you bait your hook and we see what you can catch?”

She brushed past Ryan to take the cane pole from Riley. Brooke reached into the cooler and handed Leah something that looked strangely like a piece of hot dog.

“What’re you using for bait there?” Ryan asked as he moved toward them.

“My lunch,” Brooke said. “Grandpa Riley promised if I ate one of my hot dogs I could take the other two fishing.”

“Hey,” Riley said. “At least it got her to eat her lunch. You have no idea how hard it is to get that child to eat. She’d rather do just about anything instead of sit down for a proper lunch. Everything’s yucky. Except hot dogs, that is, but only occasionally.”

Leah finished fitting the bait onto the hook then tugged at the girl’s ponytail. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Teacher workday, apparently,” Riley said. “Her sisters are busy working on their Girl Scout cooking badges with Amy, so Susan and I were treated to an afternoon with Brooke.”

“Lucky you,” Leah said, and her tone and expression showed she meant it. “Come on, Brooke. Let’s go see what you can catch for dinner.”

She screwed up her face into a grimace. “Fish are yucky.”

Riley chuckled. “See what I mean?”

“Cute kid,” Ryan said.

“Yes, she is.” He looked past Ryan, presumably to watch Leah and Brooke for a moment. “My grandbabies are the blessing I never expected I would have.”

“Oh?”

The Realtor returned his attention to Ryan. “I married young but my first wife and I were never able to have children. When she passed away I didn’t think I’d marry again, much less inherit grandchildren in the bargain. Then I met Susan at church and got to know her. Before long she and the Lord changed my mind about marriage.” He shook his head. “Her son Eric’s the town veterinarian. He’s married to Amy, who gave birth to my grandson six weeks ago.”

“That’s great, Riley,” Ryan said.

Brooke squealed, and Ryan turned to see that the girl had indeed caught something. Leah had kicked off her sandals and now stood with the waves lapping at her ankles as she held the fishing line a few inches away from the hook. At the end of the line was a wriggling fish. From this distance it looked like a small flounder. November in Texas. Ryan smiled. Where else could a trip to the beach less than two months before Christmas include getting wet without shivering?

“Be right there, honey,” Riley called before he once again regarded Ryan. “All I know is that God sure turned my world upside down, but everything worked out okay.”

He watched Burkett trot away. God had turned his world upside down, too. Would he ever feel that way? By the time he’d said goodbye to Burkett and his granddaughter and deposited Leah back in front of the beauty salon, he still had no answer to the question.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” she said as she reached for the door handle.

“Just thinking,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

Her smile was genuine. “No, it’s fine, actually,” she added after a moment’s silence.

“Leah,” he said slowly as he once again attempted to ask about the fire. “Tell me about what happened to your home. The fire, I mean. If you want to.”

“Not any more than you want to tell me why you’re in Vine Beach, apparently.”

She looked away. “I had a nice time.”

So he’d hit a nerve. Ryan paused only a second before deciding to allow her abrupt change of topic. “Me, too.” He slid her a grin he hoped matched hers. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around Vine Beach.”

“Count on it,” she said, as she returned her attention to Ryan. “Especially if you like the food at Pop’s.”

“Which I do.”

She climbed out to lean against the door. “Banana cream pie’s our specialty, you know, but my favorite’s the buttermilk.”

“Buttermilk pie? No, thanks.”

She straightened to close the door then regarded him through the open window. “Have you tried it?” When he shook his head she continued. “Then don’t knock it until you have. Now take care, fireman. I’ve played hooky from the restaurant for too long. Orlando’s going to be wondering where I’ve been.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said to her retreating back.

A thought occurred and he leaned out the window to call her name. When she turned to face him, he said, “You didn’t tell me what days you offer buttermilk pie.”

Again she smiled. “Every day,” she said. “Lunch and dinner.”

His laughter echoed in the suddenly empty Jeep as he watched her toss her red hair in the breeze then climb into an SUV parked a few spaces down. He was still watching as the vehicle pulled away and disappeared down Main Street.

Again the question of what God might be doing tugged at his mind. And again, no answer came. But he did have a new job to prepare for and a dog waiting back in Houston for a ride to his new home. And that was enough to think about for now.

That and the twinkle in Leah Berry’s eyes when she invited him to Pop’s for buttermilk pie.

What would happen to that twinkle when Leah found out he was about to start digging for information on the mysterious fire that destroyed her family’s home?


Chapter Four

Ryan shifted into Reverse and was about to pull out onto Main Street when he spied Mayor Jack Murdoch standing beside his truck. As their gazes met, the mayor motioned for him to stop.

“What’s up, Mayor?” Ryan called.

The old man crossed the road to lean against the fender of the Jeep. “Got a minute? I thought maybe we’d take a ride. Save me the time of showing you around come Monday morning.”

He thought about it. With nothing back in Houston to hurry home to, there seemed no harm in taking a spin around town with his new boss.

“Sure. Why not?”

Nodding, the mayor gestured toward his vehicle. “We’ll take mine.”

By the time Ryan reached the truck, the mayor had the windows down and the engine humming. They made their way along Main then turned left at Vine Beach Road as silence reigned, which was fine by Ryan. He never did well with small talk anyway.

“Where’d you end up settling?” the mayor finally asked.

“Here, actually,” Ryan said as the collection of beach houses came into view around a bend in the road. “The yellow one with the green shutters is mine.” For six months, anyway went unsaid, but barely.

Murdoch answered him with an agreeable nod then adjusted his hat and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You were something over in Houston. A regular HFD superstar.”

Ryan stole a sideways glance at the mayor and wondered what else the man knew about his days at HFD. “I just watched and learned, and I guess did all right.”

“You did more than all right, boy.” He paused and worked his jaw a bit, looking as if he were chewing on the words he would say next. “I’m sorry about the loss of your wife.”

So he knew. Ryan mustered up a nod of thanks but otherwise kept silent. The polite conversation that went with being a widower had yet to get any easier.

“Must have been tough,” Murdoch said. “What with you being a first responder and nothing you could do to save your bride.”

The image that statement brought forth was one Ryan knew would never permanently leave his mind. The image of his wife floating unconscious, his inability to revive her. It was all there just as if it had only occurred.

“Yeah,” he managed to say, but only because he figured no response would cause Murdoch to keep talking. “So what’s out here that you wanted to show me?” he asked to change the subject.

Up ahead, Pop’s Seafood Shack loomed, its tin roof and pale weathered boards shining almost golden in the afternoon sun. Mayor Murdoch pulled the vehicle to a stop at the edge of the lot and shut off the engine. Instantly the dull roar of the waves filled the air.

While Ryan watched, the mayor reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin. Offering a mint to Ryan, who declined, he then popped one into his mouth. Murdoch chewed on the spearmint for a moment. Finally, he shook his head.

“I’m just going to be plain honest, Ryan. That all right with you?” When Ryan nodded, the mayor continued. “You’re young.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, though it had been a long time since he’d felt it. With thirty on the horizon, old seemed as if it was heading toward him like a freight train.

“When your uncle Mike called me, I didn’t see how I could manage a full-time fireman’s position here in Vine Beach, what with the winter here and the tourists pretty much gone. But Mike and me, we go way back, so I decided I’d do what I could. ’Sides, we were gonna have to replace Carl Berry before tourist season anyway. Thing is, he never took a salary for it, though nobody expected the new guy to do the same.”

He looked to Ryan for a response. “Yes, sir” was the best he could do. Ryan knew Uncle Mike had gone way out on a limb to call in a favor from his old army buddy, but he had no idea the last chief had done it free.

But then Uncle Mike knew how important it had been to Ryan to do as Jenna had asked and make a new life at the beach where the two of them had one day hoped to live. Not in Galveston. It was too soon to move there, given the amount of time they had spent planning their future lives in that city.

Instead, he’d gone to Uncle Mike to ask him to look out for any jobs in beach towns that weren’t too far from Houston and home. To his surprise, the Vine Beach job had come just in time for their anniversary. Even now Ryan didn’t know whether that was an omen or just one more way for him to torture himself about a marriage that was over before it ever got started.

“Then I thought, well, I do need to carefully consider my responsibility to the good people of Vine Beach. And part of that responsibility means keeping them safe, sometimes from themselves. Don’t you agree?”

Now, that was a strange statement. “I suppose so,” he said slowly.

Murdoch’s attention shifted to the restaurant and rested there. “Some folks, they just don’t see the need to follow the rules.” He jerked a thumb toward Pop’s. “A firetrap if ever I’ve seen one. Not that I’m the expert. That’d be you.”

A man didn’t have to look hard to see the potential for danger in the ancient wood structure. And danger was what he specialized in preventing. Strangely uncomfortable, Ryan looked away. Thus far he’d only made one friend in this town, and even that friendship seemed rife with potential problems. Not a good sign.

“Leah—she’s Berry’s daughter—runs the place now that he’s...” Murdoch’s voice trailed off. “Anyhow, she’s just about as hardheaded as it gets, but you probably know that having just spent some time with her.” When Ryan ignored the statement, the older man continued. “Can’t figure why she stays when she had that good job with the historical folks in Galveston.” Murdoch looked at him as if he might have the answer.

Ryan thought back on her reluctance to elaborate on her reasons yesterday. “People do things for all sorts of reasons,” he said. “But not everybody likes to talk about them.”

Murdoch’s harrumph told Ryan how the mayor felt on the topic. After a minute, he leaned back against his seat and toyed with the brim of his cap. He seemed lost in thought. Then, quick as that, he reached to turn the key in the ignition.

As he did, he fixed his attention on Ryan. “I’m no expert but this place probably ought to get a look-over when you start your inspections.”

Ryan shifted position. Whatever ax Jack Murdoch had to grind against the owners of this restaurant, he wanted no part in it. And not because he’d come to know Leah Berry, even slightly. But once again, he found himself thinking of the job he’d been hired to do.

Thus, he answered carefully but firmly. “I figured to start with the schools then the hospital and nursing home since they’re of greater public importance.”

The mayor gave him a curt nod. “Makes sense. But when you do get around to Pop’s, don’t let that pretty redhead distract you from your job. If there are fire code violations, it’s your duty to report them and see they’re corrected.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you hired me to do a job and I intend to do that job,” Ryan said.

Sure, Leah was pretty—especially when her eyes shone as she helped the Wilson girl bait her hook. But Ryan wasn’t about to let anyone compromise his reputation. Not that a woman like Leah would ever ask him to.

He could tell that about her already. She had integrity.

The mayor nodded. “Glad to hear it, son,” he said.

He made a quick left onto a road so narrow the truck’s side mirrors nearly brushed the fence posts on both sides. “See that place over there?”

Murdoch gestured across the highway to the burned-out shell of the once-magnificent Berry home. To the right of the main building were several other structures that he could see much better on close range. The nearest to the road was definitely a weathered barn while the remainder were most likely a collection of storage buildings of some sort.

When he once again spied the horses, Ryan’s interest piqued. He judged them to be outstanding horseflesh, and his fingers itched to grab a bridle and chase one down. Not since his rodeo days had he felt such a tug to be astride a horse galloping across a pasture. And from the look of the land in front of him, there was plenty of space to ride.

A vast golden prairie swept from the lighthouse near the beach to the horizon, the grass swaying with the breeze coming off the Gulf of Mexico. He could almost feel the saddle under him.

Once a cowboy, always a fireman. Ryan’s dad was fond of teasing him with that saying. And yet, there was more to his love for horses than his former glory days as a bronc rider.

“That there’s Berry property, too,” Murdoch said, tearing Ryan from his thoughts. The old man gestured to the land unfolding in front of them. “House was a beauty until the big fire back in March. Too bad about that.” He shook his head. “Well, anyhow, there’s probably a violation or two out there. I’d have to check on the statutes, but I don’t think it’d be safe to leave a building in that kind of condition.”

Ryan sat up a little straighter, interested to hear what the mayor had to say about the Berry fire. “While you’re looking for those statutes,” he said. “I’d appreciate if you’d get me a copy, too.”

“Be glad to.”

“So,” Ryan said as his gaze swept the ruins, “tell me about the fire.”

Murdoch shook his head. “Went up fast, but then the place was close to one hundred and fifty years old. Carl was chief then, but in name only, really.”

“What do you mean?”

Gray brows furrowed. “Well, things stay pretty quiet around Vine Beach. Not a whole lot to do for the fire chief, but then I told you that when you interviewed for the job.”

He had, though Ryan didn’t much mind. Six months here and he’d be gone. All the better if he had an easy run of it.

“Carl hid his trouble pretty well, so while there had been talk of replacing him, nobody on the City Council wanted to be the one to bring it up formally.”

“What was wrong with him?”

“Alzheimer’s disease,” Murdoch said as he shifted into gear and headed the truck back toward the main road. “Once the house nearly burned up around him, well, we all knew something had to be done. That’s when Leah quit her job and came back here to run things.”

“So you’re saying the fire was accidentally set by Chief Berry?”

“I’m saying nothing of the sort. We had a hard rain that night. Could’ve been lightning. Or with the age of this house, a gas leak might’ve been the reason. I just know that whatever happened, Carl’s lucky to be alive. That place went up way too fast.”

“I see.” He watched the landscape roll by, the sea breeze tossing the breakers against the beach in the distance. Something in Jack Murdoch’s tone told him there was more to the story. “So where is he now?”

“Carl? He’s got a little place at the assisted-living facility just down from the harbor.”

He remembered his conversation with Leah regarding her father. Just to see what the mayor would say, he added, “I wonder if I ought to pay him a visit. Maybe get some pointers from him.”

“Wouldn’t advise it.” Murdoch shot him a sideways look. “He’s suffered enough. I’d rather him not know he’s lost his job, too.”

“Wait, you mean he doesn’t know he’s not the fire chief?”

“Didn’t see the need to tell him, and my guess is Leah hasn’t, either.” Murdoch signaled to turn onto Main Street. “Anything you need ought to be in the files, though. Nobody’s messed with them since Carl left. Didn’t need to.” A shrug. “Like I said. Not much happens here in Vine Beach.”

* * *

When he arrived at work Monday morning, Ryan discovered that the mayor hadn’t been exaggerating—not much happened in Vine Beach including fire inspections. While the schools and nursing homes had been checked over most recently, there was nothing in the file that showed the last time Pop’s Seafood Shack had been inspected. Only when he came across a bundle of papers in the back of the filing cabinet did he find a certificate of inspection.

It was dated 1973.

For a second, Ryan considered asking the mayor if he knew where Chief Berry would have kept current inspection certificates for Pop’s. But he quickly thought better of it.

The last thing Chief Berry—or Leah—needed was someone questioning the chief’s work.

On his desk was the list of locations needing inspections. Starting tomorrow he’d be making those visits. He’d get to Pop’s in due time.

And yet, what if the place really hadn’t been inspected in forty years? Could he live with the fact that he’d ignored the information he now had if something happened to Pop’s before he could make his inspection?

Leah. It was possible Leah had the certificates. He picked up the phone and dialed her number.

“Ryan,” she said when she answered. “Good to hear from you.”

In the background he could hear people talking. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”

“Actually we’re getting ready for the lunch rush, but I have a minute.”

“I just have a quick question. You may already know the answer.”

“Sure,” she said as someone called her name in the background. “I’ll try. What do you need to know?”

“I’m looking through the files here and can’t find a fire inspection for your restaurant after 1973. Do you happen to know if your father kept certificates for Pop’s separate from the City Hall files?”

“I can tell you they’re not here. I’ve been doing the paperwork for the restaurant since March and I’ve found nothing like that. Just a bunch of tax stuff. Receipts and the like. Some of it goes way back to before I was born. Apparently Pop didn’t like to throw anything away.” She paused. “At least he kept neat files. He was a stickler for that.”

That matched up with what he’d found here at the office. Still he had to ask once more. “You’re sure? Nothing at all that might look like an inspection?”

“Positive. Why?”

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as the sinking feeling took hold. “Just wanted to be sure. Thanks.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Just making sure the files here are complete, that’s all.”

“All right.” A loud noise split the silence. “Okay, I’ve got to run, but the offer to try our buttermilk pie’s still good.”

“Thanks, Leah,” he said as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk.

Unfortunately the next time he showed up at Pop’s Seafood Shack, it wouldn’t be for the pie.

* * *

Leah slid the phone into her pocket then leaned against the counter. What had that been about?

“I’ve got to check something upstairs. I’ll be right back,” she called to Orlando. He waved in acknowledgment then returned to stirring the sauce for the bread pudding.

The warm scent of pudding baking chased Leah up the narrow rear stairway and into the tiny cubicle Pop called his office. Really nothing more than a glorified broom closet with a view, the lone window offered the best place to watch the sun rise and set over the Gulf.

Settling onto Pop’s chair, Leah let out a long breath as she ran her fingers over the handle to the cabinet. Inside were thick files filled with documents related to the restaurant, everything from the building plans to old menus and bank statements. Though she knew the contents by heart, Leah once again searched the files for anything that looked like a fire inspection.

“Leah?” Orlando called. “Everything okay up there?”

She stood and closed the door behind her. “It’s fine.” Leah met Orlando at the bottom of the stairs. His expression told her that he was still curious. “Just looking for some papers,” she told him. “A fire inspection. Do you remember the last time the restaurant had one?”

The cook shrugged. “That was Carl’s department. I just fry the shrimp.”

“And look after me,” she said.

“Just doing what I promised your pop I’d do.” But her lighthearted tone didn’t stop Orlando. “Why’re you asking about a fire inspection?”

Leah didn’t immediately reply. There was no need to upset Orlando.

“You can’t fool me,” he said as he placed his work-roughened hand over hers. “Now just spill it. What’s got you worried?”

All the starch went out of her. “All right. Let me ask you something. Do you think Pop would purposefully skip the fire inspections on this place?”

“Your father’s a good man. I can’t imagine he would do that.”

“Regardless of the reason, I’m afraid that’s exactly what has happened. I’ve got no records on file of inspection results, and I can’t imagine that Ryan would call and ask me to check for them if he had any results on file up at the courthouse.” Tears brimmed, but Leah blinked them back. “We won’t pass, will we?”

To his credit, Orlando appeared to give the question due consideration. Finally he sighed. “I’d like to say we will, but I just don’t know. What I do know is that you’re worrying way too much. Now, why don’t we finish the lunch rush and you can take the rest of the day off?”

“I can’t do that,” she said.

“And why not? Monday evening’s always the slowest night of the week.” He held her at arm’s length. “I promise I’ll call if the crowd gets too big for Kate and me to handle. Okay?”

“You sure?”

“Just as sure as I am that the Lord’s going to handle what we can’t.”

Leah chuckled. “Now you sound like Pop.”

“Good.” He made a serious face. “Now get back to work or I’ll have to tell the manager.”


Chapter Five

With the Monday lunch rush behind her and the evening preparations being handled by Orlando, Leah’s thoughts and her SUV turned toward home. There she could forget for just a little while, maybe immerse herself in a good book and pretend she didn’t have yet another Pop-related issue to deal with.

No fire inspection indeed. She sighed as she climbed out of her vehicle and closed the door behind her. “No,” Leah said under her breath. “I will not worry about that today. Tomorrow has enough troubles of its own. No need to borrow any more.”

Reaching the steps leading to her upstairs porch, a plaintive yowl alerted Leah to the fact she was not alone. She looked up to spy Baby, her oversize orange tabby, sitting midway up the steps and eyeing her lazily through half-open slits.

As she began her trek up the stairs, an awful barking started from somewhere beyond the hedge of oleanders. The tabby’s ears went back, and her substantial tail puffed even larger as she moved carefully across the porch to wait beside the door. The barking continued, and from the sound of it, the irritated canine inside the rental next door was no lapdog.

Leah turned the key in the lock, and the door swung open on hinges that could use oiling. Perhaps later, she decided as she paused in the doorway to let out a long breath. In the nearly eight months since coming to live here, she’d painted every surface in the studio-style cabin—except the planked pine floor—her favorite shade of eggshell white and draped the windows and frame surrounding her corner bed in gauzy curtains to match.

The only reminder of the grand antebellum mansion that now lay in ruins was the ornate desk under the window. Once holding pride of place in her grandfather’s office, the cherrywood beauty was now the resting place for her laptop. Thankfully the piece had been on loan to the Vine Beach Public Library when the fire struck or it, too, would have been lost.

She took a step inside, the temptation to leave the door open to the unseasonably warm salt-tinged breeze tempered by the fact she’d be listening to the mutt’s noise along with the waves. Closing the door firmly behind her, Leah pulled a sandwich out of her bag and put it away, then took the mail and went to her desk.

With the remainder of a rare free afternoon ahead of her, she tucked a book under her arm and opened the door to see if the barking had stopped. When silence greeted her, Leah went back to the fridge for a bottle of water then downstairs to settle into her favorite deck chair beneath the faded red umbrella on the beach. Baby ambled over and joined her at a respectable distance, her pampered paws untouched by the grit of the Vine Beach sand. A moment later, she turned up her nose at the ocean and slipped between the hedge of oleanders that marked the line between the Berry property and the yellow rental next door.

“You’re really prissy for a beach cat,” Leah said with a chuckle before opening the book and diving into the story.

Three chapters later, a loud meow followed by a hissing noise that could only come from the orange tabby interrupted Leah’s reading. She looked over her shoulder to spy Baby racing toward her with what appeared to be a rope-style dog toy. Following close behind was a massive and unfamiliar dog. When the cat ducked beneath Leah’s lounge chair, the canine attempted to follow.

Her book and chair went one way while she and her water bottle went the other. Only when she stood to dust off the sand did she realize the enormous brindle-colored dog was now chasing the cat up the stairs.

And the door was open.

By the time she reached the threshold, the destruction was complete. Baby was perched atop the refrigerator in the corner of the kitchen hissing like mad while the oversize mutt barked as if calling her down to come and play.

The warring pair had not gone straight to their current posts, however. Sandy paw prints the size of her fist raced across the wood floor and decorated the sofa. One of the gauze panels surrounding her bed hung askew as if the beast had gotten caught in it before tearing free.

Leah reached for her copy of Texas Monthly and rolled it up then approached the dog carefully. A glance at the animal told her that he easily outweighed her. When he placed his mitt-sized paws on the counter and cast a look her way, their eyes were at the same height.

Brandishing the magazine, she moved a step closer. “Get. Out. Of. Here,” she said through clenched jaw.

The dog paused only long enough to blink twice then returned his attention to Baby, whose hissing and howling did nothing to help the situation. Again, Leah waved the magazine at the dog. This time, the animal ignored her completely though his tail thumped loudly against the cabinet door.

Leah was poised to make another attempt when a shrill whistle split the air. The dog froze and looked back toward the open door. Another whistle and he loped past her, making a hasty exit.

Tossing aside the magazine, she stormed out onto the deck and down the stairs in pursuit of whatever idiot owned the disaster with paws. At the bottom of the steps, she made a sharp left turn and slammed into a wall of gray fabric.

The collision knocked her backward, and Leah went reeling into the stair rail. Her head slammed against the wood, and instantly she saw stars. A pair of strong arms caught her and pulled her upright to steady her on her feet.

“Look out, there. Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine,” she said, though her field of vision was limited to a gray Firemen’s Training School T-shirt and, oddly, something that looked like a belt draped over one shoulder. When her brain caught up with her eyes, she realized the belt was actually a leash. Leah moved her gaze higher and noticed her rescuer looked very familiar.

Ryan Owen.

Before Leah could respond, the massive dog returned and began dancing circles around the two of them. Baby, now safely out of reach in the rafters over the carport, peered down with disdain, offering only the occasional hiss or switch of her tail.

“Sit, Chief,” Ryan said sharply, and the dog obeyed at once. And though his tail continued to thump against the concrete, his attention was now completely on the man with the leash. The man who still held her in his grip.

Their eyes met. One dark brow rose.

“You’re my neighbor?” she said as she made the connection.

“If you live here, then yes, I am.” He seemed even more surprised than Leah.

“I guess that must be the reason Riley Burkett thought I’d seen your new place,” she said.

“You feel a little unsteady on your feet,” he said as he leaned back to give her an appraising look.

“I’m fine,” she said despite the fact the fireman’s presence was more than a little disconcerting. Especially when he held her this close. And she could smell the masculine combination of soap and salt air on his clothes. See the curve of his smile from a whole new angle.

“Leah?”

Her senses cleared. “Yes, I’m fine. Really.”

When he released her, however, Leah took a step back and the horizon tilted. He caught her before her head could slam into the rail again.

She said a quick prayer that the ground might swallow her up before she said, did or thought anything else that might cause further humiliation.

“You need to sit down.” Ryan led her by the elbow to a chair. “Okay, now I’m going to go put Chief inside, but I’ll be right back.”

He quickly attached the leash to the dog’s collar and led him away through a gap in the hedge. Leah let out a sigh as she closed her eyes and rested her hands in her lap. Above her, Baby yowled. She opened her eyes to look up. The cat appeared to be more upset with her than with the dog.

“Look you,” she said to the fuzzy feline. “You’re the one who went over there and asked for trouble. Don’t blame me if it followed you home.”

The sound of footsteps coming around the corner alerted Leah to Ryan’s return. She mustered a neutral expression.

The fireman stepped into view. “Don’t think he’ll be paying you another visit anytime soon. At least I hope not. No clue what got into him.”

“Oh, I know exactly what caused the excitement. Wait right here,” Leah said as she recalled the dog toy that Baby had hauled home. “I’ve got something that I think might belong to you.”

She turned and grabbed for the nearest solid object to steady herself then made her way as best she could through the sun-dappled shade to the stairs. Reaching the second-floor deck, she heard the unmistakable tread of sneakers on wood behind her.

Turning, she saw he’d followed, though at a respectable distance. “Looks like you listen about as well as your dog.” Regretting her harsh tone, Leah added a quick but somewhat nicer, “Please wait.”

“No offense, but you’re looking a little unsteady. Just wanted to be sure you didn’t fall.” Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the rail. “If it looks appetizing, you’re welcome to keep it to cook for dinner.”





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