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Joe exited his condo through the garage just as Holly came out of her side. She was dressed for work, except she had her slippers on. “Hey, Joe,” she called out as she headed toward him. “You’re probably on your way to work, but I wanted to mention that my grandparents would like to thank you at some point for all you did in the fire.”

He gestured down at her slippers. “Pretty casual work shoes.”

“Oh, I don’t have to leave for a half hour.”

He checked his watch. “I’m early, too.” He liked to get to the firehouse before the shift started, to read his emails and check in with the night officer. “Are your grandparents up?”

“Of course. At the crack of dawn for both of them.”

“I could come in now. I have time for a cup of coffee that you make with the real beans.”

“Great.” She preceded him inside, and as soon as he entered, he sniffed. “What smells so good?”

“Grandma’s cinnamon buns. You can have one with your coffee if you have time.”

“I always have time for pastries.”

They entered the kitchen and found her grandparents sitting at the table. The woman was white-haired, with a small build.

 Holly said, “Joe was free now,” and to him, “They knew I was trying to catch you.”

Her grandpa was seventy, she’d told him, but his eyes were sunken with dark circles beneath and he still had red burns on his face, making him look a decade older. He held out his hand, his expression grave. “Hello, young man. We wanted to thank you for rescuing us during the fire.”

“And for helping out Holly.” Her grandma stood, too. Up close, he could see that Holly resembled her with her blue eyes and thick hair. “She said you were a godsend.”

“My team got you out, Mr. and Mrs. Jordan. A rescue is never one person. But yeah, I stayed with Holly.”

“Sit down, Joe,” Holly told him.

She poured him coffee and put plenty of cream and sugar in front of him. The scent of a cinnamon bun wafted up to him when she set that down, too.

The elder Jordans took their places again. Her grandmother repeated, “We can never thank you enough.”

“Sure you can. Anytime you make these...or other pastries, save me one, Mrs. Jordan.”

“That we can do. And call us Edward and Ella.”

He noticed her grandfather staring out the window, silent and solemn. Well, the guy had had a rough few days.

“Joe has grandparents here, too. They live in Dutch Towers. His grandma cooks like you do.”

“Oh. How nice for you.” Ella again.

In a casual tone, Joe offered, “Maybe you’ll get to meet them some day.”

Edward stood abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me, Joe, I seem to be tiring again. Good to meet you.”

“Are you okay, Grandpa?” Joe hated hearing the familiar-from-the-hospital concern in Holly’s voice. “You could need another hyperbaric session.”

“No need. I’m feeling my age.” The older man trudged out.

Ella said, “I’m sorry. He’s not himself.”

“He’s entitled, Ella. You both went through a trauma. You’ll have some effects of that for a while, both physically and emotionally.”

“Now that he’s gone, I’d like to ask you about Dutch Towers.” She lowered her voice. “Edward shies away from elder communities, but I’m beginning to think that’s the answer for us.”

“I could take you over some time. You could meet my grandparents and see the complex.”

“How sweet. But we don’t want to ask more of you.”

“No bother. Holly could come along.”

They made chitchat for a while, then Joe rose and took his dishes to the sink. When he came back to the table, he didn’t sit again. “I have to get to work.”

Ella stood and gave him a hug. “Thank you again, Joe.” She had tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what would have happened without the fire department.”

“Anytime you need anything, call us. We’re only minutes away.”

Holly walked him out. They stopped in front of her garage. “You are such a nice guy,” she said at the doorway.

“Shh. Don’t tell my team. I try to keep that side of myself out of the firehouse.”

Holly’s laugher rang through the early morning. Then, she hugged him. A warm, body-against-body hug. He carried the sensation all the way to work.

“God, I like this place.” Trevor Tully grinned hugely as he scanned Pumpers. The rookie loved everything about firefighting.

Long and narrow, Pumpers was a true smoke-eater’s hangout. Job-related memorabilia, commendations and laminated news articles lined the walls. The owner, Jimmy McKenna, mopped up the long mahogany bar. He kept the place as spotless as the firehouse he’d once worked in. Right now, the room smelled like beer and popcorn, a welcome scent.

Joe decided to make the kid’s day. “I think there’s a picture of your class’s graduation from the fire academy over on the front wall.”

“Holy smokes, really? Can I go see it?”

“Trev, you don’t have to ask permission for that.” Trevor wanted to please everybody all the time. “You’re off the clock. You can do anything you want.”

Ducking his head, Trevor slid off the stool and Joe sighed as he watched the kid leave. Dylan O’Roarke had told Joe that the rookie had a ways to go, but he had the instincts of a firefighter. He did, Joe had seen for himself, but Trevor was so innocent, it was hard to watch sometimes.

Like Holly Michaels.

And there she was again, accompanying him to the bar. Damn it. He shouldn’t be thinking about her.

“Glad to see you brought Tully here, Joey.” Ben Cordaro had come up to him, distracting him from his thoughts.

“He did good today. I thought we’d celebrate. But he’s so naïve and innocent. It drives me nuts sometimes.”

“Yeah, but he’s going to be an asset to the fire department.”

“I was just thinking that.”

From across the room, they saw Sandy Frank walk into the bar. She and Tully were from the same firefighting class, and he was pointing out their picture. “He seems occupied. Mind if I sit for a minute?”

“Nope.” All his adult life, Joe had had a complicated relationship with Ben, who was Francey’s father, and now his battalion chief. But they’d gotten past most of the tension since he and Francey split. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Of me?”

“Yep.” He grabbed a handful of popcorn, and popped it into his mouth. Then sipped his beer. “You know who Mitch Malvaso is?”

“Yeah, the legend of the Hidden Cove Fire Department. He’s chief there now.”

“Well, he’s coming to Rockford with his son Bobby. The boy is twenty-eight and really talented. He’s published a book of poetry, photographs and CDs depicting troubled teens, and now he’s into other areas. His dad always told him stories of firefighting, so his new book will emphasize photography but also anecdotes of firefighters. He’s even made some original music about his father’s job.”

“Sounds good. How does this relate to me?”

“He’s followed the HCFD around but he’d like to take pictures in a different venue too. Can he hang out with you and the guys for a few days? Chief Talbot gave his okay for ride-alongs and the like. He and his dad are staying with the chief at his house.”

“Sure. That’ll be fun.”

“Which is why I chose you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You see firefighting as fun. Your whole group does. Older smoke-eaters fall into thinking of the job as drudgery.”

“Is that a good thing, what I do?”

“Yeah, son, it is.” He stood and clapped Joe on the back. “I’m proud of you, Joey.”

Joe was still open-mouthed when Tully returned. “Whataya smiling at, Lieutenant?”

“Remember how you feel when one of us compliments you?”

“Uh, huh.”

“That’s how I feel about Battalion Chief Cordaro saying something nice to me.”

“Did he?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

They shot the shit for a while longer, and then Sandy came over. Joe stood. “Hi, Sandy. Here take my seat. I’m heading out.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant.”

“See you tomorrow, Joe.”

Joe left Pumpers feeling old. Rumor had it that Trevor and Sandy were together. Young love. He’d like to find it again.

On the way home, he stopped and picked up takeout at a Chinese restaurant and when he pulled into the driveway, he noticed that across the yard, an unfamiliar car sat in the driveway at Holly’s place. He’d exited his Mustang when two people got out of the sedan. Ah, Holly and a guy. Probably the flower sender. In the light from condo lamps, he could see the man was stocky and muscular.

Holly called out, “Hi, Joe.”

For some godforsaken reason, Joe walked across the grass to them. “Hi, there.” He held out his hand. “I’m Joe Santori, Holly’s neighbor.”

“The firefighter who helped her out. I’m Greg Rossi.”

So she liked Italian guys.

“We work together. Greg’s a fifth-grade teacher.”

“Bless you both.”

Greg’s smile was weak. Joe wondered what he’d interrupted. “Nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, sure. You too. Holly, take care.” He started away.

“Wait a sec.” He turned to her. “Thanks again for coming this morning.”

“No problem. Your grandparents are great people.”

Disgruntled, Joe left them and they both went inside her house. When he was in his, he set down the food, grabbed a beer and switched on the TV which was set up so he could see it from the dining room table.

The Yankees were on, so he focused on the game. But instead of seeing his favorite players, Joe kept picturing Holly with Rossi. Was he kissing her? Would they make love? Yeah, she was innocent, but she’d had to have had some experience in bed. What would she be like there?

Stupid, stupid, stupid to be thinking about her so much. Especially that way. Get it together, Santori. She’s bad news for you.

Somehow, he managed to focus on the game. To eat an egg roll and soup. And not think about the woman next door, or about how lonely he was.

An early riser, Holly left her house at seven a.m. on Saturday. Her friend and fellow teacher, Lizzie, had come over and was waiting on the driveway to go for a walk. Well, stroll was more like it. “Hey, girl,” Lizzie called out. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” She headed down the blacktop, stopped and smelled the air. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

“That’s why we do this.”

Long ago, they’d decided they needed quiet time together and chose walking outdoors as often as they could. Tall and slender, Lizzie had muscles to die for and was more active than Holly—she jogged over a mile to get to Holly’s house. She was also on a women’s rollerball team. Holly had gone to see her play a few times and admired her prowess.

She grinned when she reached her friend. “I love our walks.”

“Hello, ladies.”

Holly startled, recognizing Joe’s voice behind her. He must be out for his morning run. He came up to them. Damn, did he have to look so good in a dark gray tank and matching shorts? Even his gray and white sneakers matched the outfit. “Hi, Joe.”

“Who’s this?” he asked smiling at Lizzie.

“This is Lizzie Lakefield. I work with her. We’re both teachers.”

He offered his hand. “Hi, Lizzie. Joe Santori.”

“Joe.”

Turning to Holly, he said, “You socialize a lot with teachers.”

“Excuse me?”

“Rossi, last night?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

Lizzie linked arms with her. “Teachers stick together, that’s for sure.”

“Like firefighters,” Holly added.

“Hmm.” He glanced at the street. “Do you run or walk?”

“Walk.”

“How far?”

“We go by time. During the week, we have to leave ourselves enough to shower and get to school. On weekends like this, we can go as long as we want. You?”

“The same, basically. I’m off shift. Want to start out with me?”

“Oh, no.” Holly flushed. “I could never keep up with you.”

“Hmm.” His expression was...all male. “We’ll have to see some time.” And he took off.

After he left, a car pulled up. Still thinking about Joe, Holly walked over to the open window. “Hi, Dad.”

She’d hinted that he not show up unannounced, but he hadn’t listened.

He squeezed her arm. “Hi, honey. I stopped for coffee.”

“I was just about to go for a walk with Lizzie.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“Sorry, Dad. Maybe if you’d called, I could have changed our time.”

“Hmm.” His brows furrowed. “I’ll be sure to schedule coffee with my daughter next time.” The window went up and he backed up, drove off.

They headed out. Lizzie was quiet at first, then said, “I’m glad you stood up to your father.”

“I don’t know why he won’t call first. I hate to disappoint him. I’ll phone him later.”

“So, what about Mr. Firefighter?”

“I just met him.”

“Why were you so self-effacing with him?”

“Did I put myself down?”

“Yeah. First off, you can go faster and longer if you want to. And second, you could have made up some other excuse besides berating yourself.”

“Why? I don’t want him to think I’m more than I am.”

She stopped walking. “He likes you.”

“Come on. Look at him.”

“No, he does. What did you think that w e’ll see some time comment meant?”

“That we could walk together?”

“Holly, Holly, Holly. His remark dripped with sexual innuendo. He was flirting.”

“Why would he flirt with me?”

“Maybe because you’re interesting. Smart. Kind to everybody.”

“How would he even know that? The only time we spent together was with his grandparents.”

“And what did they think of you?”

“He said they loved me.”

“I rest my case.”

“Come on, let’s walk and not talk about him anymore.”

“Okay, only if you’re honest with me.”

“I’m always honest.”

“Aren’t you the least bit attracted to him?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I’m a lot attracted to him.”

“Then we need to talk more about him. Let’s go.”

After their walk, Lizzie had plans, so Holly sat in her kitchen thinking about the pep talk her friend had given her. But she wasn’t right. Holly would never be enough for Joe Santori. He was too male, too virile for a fragile woman like her.

So she was shocked when she saw from her living room window that Joe was coming up her driveway. To the porch. Ringing the bell.

She answered right away. He was sweating from head to toe and his face was red. “Hi. Wow, you went fast and hard.”

He stared at her long enough to make her uncomfortable. “You should be careful saying that to a guy, honey.”

She blushed but lifted her chin. “I’m not very good at innuendo, but I got that one.”

“Anyway, I’m going to take a shower and go out to breakfast. Want to come? My treat.”

Say no. Say no. Say no. “I’d love to.”

“Hey, Barb. You work Saturdays, too?”

The petite redheaded owner of DeLuca's Diner rolled her eyes. “Not usually. Someone called in sick. I’m taking over hostess duty.”

While she got the menus, Joe saw Holly scan the place. The entire diner had been remodeled by firefighters when Barb’s firefighter husband left her and their son. She’d been devastated, but seemed over that whole mess now. She led them to one of the rough-hewn booths which matched the cedar-sided walls.

Across from him, Holly ran her hand over the cushion. “This Indian-print upholstery is lovely. It goes well with the terra cotta tile.”

“I was thinking how I liked the way the place is decorated but wouldn’t have known what to call stuff like you did.”

“I have an interest in decor.”

“From what I saw of it, your place is beautiful.”

So was she. Despite what she said about walking slow, her face had a healthy glow. Her hair was still a little damp from her shower and curled down her back appealingly. “Thanks.”

A waitress came over and poured coffee. Joe said, “We haven’t decided yet.”

“No problem.”

Sipping his coffee instead of reading the menu, he lounged back into the booth. “Any other interests besides decorating and walking?”

“My family.”

“Except your mother. That’s not a criticism. I know all about dysfunctional mothers.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Remember I told you my grandparents raised me? Even when my mother was alive, she wasn’t there in the mental sense.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What’d your mother do to you?”

“I guess you could say she changed the trajectory my life.”

“Your life looks great to me. You have friends and family. A rewarding job that a lot of people can’t do.”

“It’s an awful story.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Holly.”

“I don’t want to ruin the morning.”

They ordered breakfast to share: French toast, eggs, bacon and a stack of pancakes. “I’ll never be able to eat all this,” she said when their food came.

“I’ll do my share. But don’t underestimate yourself. This is the best breakfast in town.”

The bacon was crispy, the French toast moist and buttery, but she passed on the pancakes. They were halfway through the meal when somebody came to the table. Joe looked up.

“Hey, Joey. How you doing?”

Joe stiffened and the atmosphere turned tense. “I’m just dandy, France. You?”

Beside her, Alex held their daughter, who squirmed. They made a picture of happiness, the gorgeous guy, the woman with her dark hair and violet eyes. The baby was about eight months old and was the spitting image of Francey. “We’re doing well.”

Joe looked at the man. “Hi, Alex. Gracie’s getting big.”

“Yeah.” The woman glanced at Holly. Joe hadn’t introduced her. “I’m Francey Templeton. This is my husband Alex and my daughter Gracie.”

“I’m Holly Michaels.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Alex hefted Gracie higher. “We’d better get a table and high chair and corral this one.” He smiled at Holly. “She’s got Francey’s spunk.”

“Ah.”

When the couple left, Joe turned to his food. He ate the rest of it in complete silence, spearing his bacon and attacking the pancakes he wasn’t enjoying anymore.

Holly didn’t comment until they were in his Mustang and on the way home. “What happened in there?” she asked gently.

“It’s very long story.”

When he said no more, she didn’t either. At the condo, she reached for the door handle.

“Wait a sec.”

She waited.

“Francey and I were a thing for years. I thought we were gonna get married. But we broke up a while before she met Templeton. They had a storybook relationship and I didn’t handle it very well.”

“Okay.”

“It’s been two years, and I’m a lot better, but sometimes, it hits me.”

Holly thought about that. “I understand. Remember how I said my mother changed my life?”

“Yeah.”

“Part of that life was a guy. Linc. We were engaged. Because of my mother, the relationship ended. I see him periodically around town, but a couple of weeks ago, I bumped into him at the grocery store. With his three-year-old. I felt terrible. Even though I’m over him.”

He turned in his seat and she did too. “It was brave of you to tell me that. After I get sucked into those feelings, I hate myself.”

“Me, too. But Lizzie says it’s normal to get a twinge. Or more, even.”

“I ruined our breakfast.”

“Only the last half.”

“Then I owe you for half a breakfast.”

Reaching out, he grabbed a lock of her hair. Rubbed it between his fingers. Holly took in a little breath. Then he brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “You’re honest. And a very special person.” He stared into her eyes. “I like you.”

She was about to deny the special part, then thought of what else Lizzie said to her. “Thanks, Joe. I like you, too.”