Page 16 of The Fire Captain's Unexpected Baby
Then, I follow my instinct out to the living room, where Aaron’s large frame sits on the small couch. A tumbler of whiskey rests in his hand, while a glass of chardonnay waits on the table for me.
“You have a lovely home.” He clears his throat, as if he isn’t used to speaking.
“It’s enough for the two of us, for now. I paid it off two years ago, so we have no intention of leaving.”
“Must be nice to have roots somewhere.” I hear the ache in his voice.
I want to ask what he left behind when Crown Hill came into the picture, but I’m afraid I’ll hear aboutwhohe left behind.
“Crown Hill will eventually feel like home,” I promise him.
I sit next to him on the couch, only an inch separating my thigh from his. Electricity seems to jump between us in the gap.
Aaron nods. “It certainly feels more like that now than it did last week.”
“I appreciate what you did for me today at the wedding. You have no idea how humiliating that would have been.” A smile surfaces at the memory of Alexander trying his hardest not to look at us.
“All in a day’s work.” Aaron sips his drink casually and drapes his arm over the back of the couch, dangerously close to my shoulders. “Fires fought, damsels rescued, nitwits deflected.”
“You were off the clock today,” I remind him.
“Guess I have a hard time leaving work behind, then. Bet you haven’t heard that one from the rest of the guys.” He laughs, his entire face lighting up. He looks different tonight, relaxed and at ease.
“No, my brother is definitelynotmarried to the station.” My own laughter threatens to break down the walls.
It’s a feeling I’d almost forgotten—conversation, a little flirtation, nothing about loss or children or work. I take a quick sip of wine to remind myself to rein in my happiness.
It can’t last, my brain tells me.
The conversation meanders from one topic to another while our drinks get low. We talk about the guys at the station, the free coffee he just learned about, and his favorite parts of Crown Hill.
“You mean to tell me that you don’t have a single favorite part about this town?” I ask after he says that everything feels the same.
“I didn’t say that,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me. I catch myself blushing, even though I’m not entirely sure he meant me. “But since you’re so insistent, what isyourfavorite part?”
I think for a minute. “The spot where the park meets the tiny creek. It’s peaceful there. Noah plays in the background, and I sit with my feet in the water, listening to the birds.”
“And here I thought you were going to say the burned coffee at the fire station,” he laughs.
“That’s a close second.”
It’s one in the morning when he looks at the clock and sets his empty tumbler on the coffee table.
“I should probably head out,” he says reluctantly. “Noah will be up before you know it. You should rest.”
Part of me protests, wants him to stay just a little while longer. Another part of me—the practical part—knows that I’mexhausted after the full wedding day, the dancing, the fun. I’ll tumble into bed and undoubtedly fall into a deep sleep right away.
“You probably have a shift in the morning.”
He can sleep at the station, though. Once Noah is up for the day, I won’t get to rest until he takes his usual one-hour nap around noon.
Aaron leads the way to the front door, stepping around piles of toys and unfolded laundry that never seem to get put away. At the door, he turns and faces me, his eyes searching my face for some kind of answer.
Not wanting to break the spell, I don’t speak.
“Paige,” he says, his voice rougher than usual. “I actually had fun at the wedding today. You don’t know this about me, but I don’t do big social things.”
“You? Not social?” I joke, and he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening.
