Her Firefighter Hero Read online

  Taking a Chance on the Fireman

  Young widow Megan Rocklin is trying hard to pick up the pieces. A year after her fireman husband’s death, she has managed to keep the family diner going and tend to her two active children, June and Caleb. She’s sure that’s all she can handle—and then Jared Marshall asks Megan to cater the meals for his hotshot crew. With his rugged good looks, the new fire management officer for Minoa, Nevada, turns many heads—but his heart lands straight on Megan. She’s promised herself she’ll never date another firefighter. But determined Jared refuses to give up on the family meant to be his…

  Maybe now was the time to be honest with him.

  “I’ve promised never to love someone that fights fires or works in a dangerous profession again. It’s nothing personal, Jared. But I just can’t go through the pain of losing someone again.”

  It was better this way. Better for Jared, too.

  So, why did she suddenly feel so lost and forlorn?

  He went very still. “And that includes me?”

  She looked down and swallowed hard. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

  “Well, at least you’re being honest with me,” he said.

  She looked up. “I’m sorry, Jared. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just that I’ve got two kids to worry about. I’ve got to put their needs first.”

  His eyes crinkled in a smile of understanding, but she saw the pain in his eyes. “Believe me, I get it. But I’m not convinced I’m bad for you and those kids. I’m good for you, lady. You just can’t see it, yet. And I’m going to try my hardest to convince you that you need me.”

  LEIGH BALE is a Publishers Weekly bestselling author. She is the winner of the prestigious Golden Heart® Award and is a finalist for the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence and the Booksellers’ Best Award. The daughter of a retired US forest ranger, she holds a BA in history. Married in 1981 to the love of her life, Leigh and her professor husband have two children and two grandkids. You can reach her at leighbale.com.

  Books by Leigh Bale

  Love Inspired

  Men of Wildfire

  Her Firefighter Hero

  Lone Star Cowboy League

  A Doctor for the Nanny

  The Healing Place

  The Forever Family

  The Road to Forgiveness

  The Forest Ranger’s Promise

  The Forest Ranger’s Husband

  The Forest Ranger’s Child

  Falling for the Forest Ranger

  Healing the Forest Ranger

  The Forest Ranger’s Return

  The Forest Ranger’s Christmas

  The Forest Ranger’s Rescue

  HER FIREFIGHTER HERO

  Leigh Bale

  www.millsandboon.com.au

  There is no fear in love;

  but perfect love casteth out fear…

  —1 John 4:18

  This book is dedicated to my Jared,

  who adores my daughter as we adore him.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Coast Guard Sweetheart by Lisa Carter

  Chapter One

  “Order up!” Megan Rocklin slid a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns beneath the warming lamp. As she wiped her damp hands on a clean dish towel, she took a quick glance at the tables in the diner. All but two were full, and the place buzzed with the happy chatter of satisfied customers. Not bad, considering she owned the only restaurant in town. If only it were this busy every other day of the week, she could pay off a few bills and breathe a bit easier.

  Turning back to the grill, she picked up a spatula and flipped a series of pancakes. The air smelled of breakfast, warm and nice. It was her favorite part of the day. But she still needed to slice vegetables and fruit for the afternoon salad bar.

  She slid open the glass pane of the window and welcomed the gush of fresh April air. Blazing sunshine taunted her. She’d like nothing more than to close up the diner, load her two kids and a picnic lunch into their rusty old truck and drive the twenty miles to Duck Creek Park. But taking a day off work was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now. She’d graduated from one of the top culinary schools in the nation, and look where she’d ended up. Living in the small, remote town of Minoa, Nevada.

  Speaking of which. Where was Frank? The cook’s ten-minute break should have ended five minutes ago.

  Megan tossed an irritated glance toward the back door. No doubt he was outside in the alleyway, puffing on a cigarette. She wouldn’t complain, though. Frank worked long hours without protest. A good, solid employee. She was just tired and grouchy, that’s all.

  She forked a giant ham steak off the grill, slapped some eggs over easy and thick fries on the side, and garnished the plate with a slice of orange. Through the cutout window to the restaurant, she caught a glimpse of Connie racing back and forth to take orders, shuffle food and refill drinks. Megan should be out there helping her.

  Blinking her gritty eyes, she gave the pancakes another flip. From all outward appearances, she didn’t miss a beat. But inwardly, her arms and legs felt like leaden weights. She hadn’t slept well the night before. In fact, she rarely slept through the night these days. Not since Blaine’s death last summer. And boy! Did she ever miss him today.

  “So, what have we got?” Frank lumbered into the kitchen, a burly man of forty-eight years. Pulling his chef’s hat onto his balding head, he gave a deep, hacking cough. At least he covered his mouth. An invisible fog of cigarette smoke seemed to follow him as he stepped over to the double ovens. Megan hid a grimace.

  “That bad habit of yours is gonna kill you one of these days, Frank. I wish you’d give it up,” she said.

  She meant well but tried not to sound too much like his mother. Lately, she sounded like everyone’s mom. An old harpy, that’s what she’d become. She figured if she held on tight enough, she could control the world around her and keep from being hurt again. Her common sense told her that was an insane notion, yet she couldn’t let go completely and allow herself to be the happy, naive woman she’d once been. Not as a widow with two kids to raise and plenty of bills to pay.

  “I know it’s not good for me, but now that my Martha’s gone, I ain’t got nothing but this job to live for,” Frank said.

  His words sank deep into her heart. Blaine was gone, too, but at least she still had Caleb and June, her five- and eight-year-old children. If not for them, she wouldn’t have much to live for, either. And life shouldn’t be that way. Not ever.

  “You’ve always got a place here with us, Frank. You mean a lot to me, which is why I wish you’d give up those cigarettes.” She reached up and squeezed his arm affectionately, meaning every word.

  “Thanks, ma’am.” He flashed an unassuming grin, his ruddy cheeks wobbling.

  She handed him the pancake turner. “You’ve got biscuits in the oven ready to come out and cakes on the grill ready to come off right now. And we’re out of sourdough.”

  He didn’t bat an eye but went right to work a
ssembling plates of food like a pro. Always calm, always steady. Megan thought she could learn something from his example. Outwardly, she appeared serene and collected. But inside, she was screaming. Too much work. Too little money. Too little sleep. And way too lonely.

  The truth was, she didn’t want to be a single mom. She shouldn’t be a young widow. There was so much life ahead of her. So much love she wanted to share. But one thing was certain. She’d never, ever love another man that worked in a dangerous profession. After losing her husband fighting wildfires last summer, her heart couldn’t take it. No, sirree. Not ever again.

  Stepping out into the restaurant, Megan reached behind the front counter for the coffeepot and made the rounds at each table, refilling cup after cup.

  “Thanks, babe,” Connie trilled as she zipped past carrying four steaming plates of food.

  Besides waitressing, Connie was also her dear friend. And after Blaine’s death, she’d been there for Megan. A sympathetic shoulder to cry on. Comforting and encouraging. Someone Megan could confide in.

  “No problem,” Megan called in a light voice. “Just think. Only nine more hours and we can all go home.”

  “You’ve got nine hours, but I’ve got just five,” Connie shot back with a laugh.

  Yeah, Megan was abundantly aware of that fact. She’d opened the restaurant at six that morning and would be here until it closed at nine that evening.

  She pushed that weary thought aside and reminded herself that she had a lot to be grateful for. It hadn’t been easy, but God had taken care of them.

  The bell over the door tinkled, heralding the arrival of another customer. A tall, well-built man stepped inside. In a room filled with people, Megan felt his presence even before she glanced up. Her mouth dropped open and she stared. Not because he was a stranger, but because of how he looked.

  High cheekbones, a chiseled chin, dark blond hair and devil-may-care eyes. More handsome than a man had a right to be. The kind that could have walked straight off the cover of GQ magazine. His blue jeans, cowboy boots and white T-shirt hugged his muscular body to perfection. Tall, lean and strong, he glanced about the room, taking it all in with a confident lift of his head. He radiated self-assurance. As though he owned the place.

  Megan blinked, wondering who he was and what he was doing in a sleepy town like Minoa, Nevada.

  Lifting a hand, he slung his thumb through a belt loop at his waist and glanced around the room. Two tables sat vacant, but Megan hadn’t cleared them yet. His gaze brushed past, screeched to a halt, then rushed back to settle on her. She felt the weight of his gaze like a ten-ton sledge. A frisson of awareness swept over her. She couldn’t move. Her feet felt as if they were stapled to the floor.

  He walked toward her with a masculine swagger that told her he knew where he was going and exactly what he wanted once he got there.

  Megan ducked her head and pretended to organize a panel of hot water glasses, fresh out of the dishwasher. From her peripheral vision, she watched the man sit on a bar stool directly opposite her and lean his elbows on the clean counter.

  “Good morning.” She placed a menu and a glass of ice water in front of him.

  “Morning, ma’am.” His deep voice sounded like rolling thunder.

  She didn’t meet his eyes but could feel his gaze boring a hole in the side of her head.

  A rattle of dishes caused her to turn just as Caleb and June ran past the bar stools in a game of chase. With fast reflexes, Megan snatched both of her kids by the arms and pulled them back behind the counter.

  “Hey, you two little imps. What did I tell you about running through the restaurant?” she scolded in a low voice.

  “Sorry, Mommy.” June gazed at her with wide, uncertain eyes. A smattering of freckles stood out across the bridge of her button nose, her blond ponytail bouncing.

  “Yeah, we’re sorry, Mom,” Caleb crowed happily. So much like his father. Too agreeable to really understand that he’d done anything wrong. He just went along with his big sister.

  As Megan smoothed Caleb’s rumpled T-shirt and flyaway hair, she gazed at her children’s sweet faces. Thinking how much they each looked like their daddy. Thinking this was no place to raise two active little kids. During the school week, she had them in an after-school program. But nights and weekends, they were here with her. She spent so little time with them as it was that she wanted them near her whenever possible, even if she had to keep working. Besides, she couldn’t afford a lot of child care. Not on her tight budget. Thank goodness most of her customers were friends and neighbors who didn’t mind seeing her kids in the diner now and then.

  Megan hugged her children close, breathing deeply of their warm skin. A wave of unconditional love swept over her. Just what she needed to dissolve her frazzled nerves.

  “How about if I take you to the park for an hour later this afternoon to play?” she said.

  “You’re not too busy?” June asked.

  Megan shook her head. “I’ll make time. We’ll go once the lunch rush settles down a bit. I’m sure Connie can handle things for a while.”

  “You know I can. You guys go and have a little fun,” Connie said as she whisked by, carrying a tray of food for table number five.

  “That would be fun,” June said.

  “Yeah, and we can play kick ball,” Caleb said. He drew back his leg and kicked the air for emphasis.

  “Okay. We’ll do it. But aren’t you tired now?” Megan asked.

  She’d gotten both kids up at five that morning. As always, they hadn’t uttered a single complaint. Just rubbed their sleepy eyes and trundled out to the truck in their jammies. They’d changed into their street clothes later that morning. Because she practically lived at the restaurant, Megan had created a homey environment for them in the back office, where they could have some privacy to watch TV, color or sleep. But sometimes, they got restless. Like today.

  “Nope, not a smidgen,” June replied, mimicking a phrase her father had often used.

  Megan fought off a rush of guilt. Her kids should be outside, running in the tall grass and swinging in the park. They were just children, after all. This situation wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. But they still had to cope.

  “You will be tired, my little June bug.” Megan brushed her index finger across the tip of her daughter’s nose.

  After they’d played in the park, she knew they’d both collapse on the cot she’d set up in the back office. Just in time for another rush of customers wanting their dinner. In the meantime, it was more than difficult to keep an eye on two wriggly children while she was working.

  “Why don’t you go in the back and watch TV for a while?” she suggested.

  “I don’t want to,” June said.

  “Do you want to help me instead?” she asked them, her voice enticing.

  “Sure,” Caleb chirped with a ready nod of his head.

  Megan swept a jagged thatch of hair back from her son’s forehead. “I’ve got two bags of garbage sitting beside the back door. If you work together, you can carry them outside and throw them into the dump. And after you’ve had your lunch, I told Frank to save a slice of fresh banana cream pie for each of you.”

  “Yum!” Caleb gave a little hop and clapped his chubby hands.

  June smiled wide, showing a missing tooth in front. “Okay, Mommy. We’ll do it.”

  And off they went.

  “Cute kids,” the handsome stranger at the counter said.

  Megan glanced his way, feeling pleased, but suddenly self-conscious that he’d overheard her entire conversation. “Thanks.”

  Swiveling on her flat, practical heels, she faced him. Her gaze dipped to the menu, which he hadn’t touched.

  “Thanks, but I don’t need it.” He shook his head, a subtle smile curving the corners of his ful
l mouth.

  She slid the menu into the holder at the side of the cash register. Gripping her notepad and pen, she forced herself to meet his dazzling blue eyes.

  “So what’ll it be, then?” she asked.

  He flashed a magnetic grin. Wow! He had gorgeous blue eyes. Intelligent yet soft, with smile lines at the corners. His sun-bronzed skin told her he liked being outdoors.

  “Steak and eggs, cooked medium rare and over easy. Fire potatoes, two griddle cakes and whole wheat toast with plenty of strawberry jam.”

  Yep, his order was completely masculine, just like him. Coasting on autopilot, she slid a dish of prepackaged jams close to his hand. She jotted some notes, trying to get his order down before her muddled brain forgot everything.

  He gave an infectious laugh. “You sure write fast. Have you got it all? I can repeat it, if you like.”

  “Nope, I’ve got it. Anything to drink?” she asked, forcing herself not to look up.

  “A tall glass of orange juice, please.”

  “Coming right up.” She swiveled around and snapped his order up for Frank.

  Forcing herself to keep working, she fled to the kitchen refrigerator to pour him some juice. She returned and had just set the glass in front of him when little Caleb came running in from the alleyway out back. He tugged on her apron and spoke in a shrill voice.

  “Hurry, Mommy! Fire! Outside,” the boy cried.

  The handsome man sitting at the counter jerked his head up, his eyes widening.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, Megan scurried after her son and muttered under her breath. “What could make this day any crazier?”

  * * *

  The moment Jared Marshall heard the word fire, he was out of his seat. Without a backward glance, he followed Megan Rocklin down the hallway leading to the back door.

  Yes, he knew the woman’s name. He was new in town, but Tim Wixler, his assistant fire management officer, had told him what she looked like. Though the description he’d been given didn’t do Megan justice. No, not at all.