Madison nodded. “Obviously.”
“But if you really want us to hack away at your walls, that could be arranged.” He narrowed his gaze, studying her for a moment until a hint of amusement crept its way into his eyes. Then Madison caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind him and realized he was looking at her mismatched hair.
“That won’t be necessary.” Good grief, he was annoying. She was willing to bet whatever was going on beneath his fire helmet wasn’t much better than her current half-done mess.
She flashed him a triumphant grin, fantasizing about the state of his helmet hair.
But then, as smoothly as if he’d just read her mind, Lieutenant Cole removed his helmet and raked his hand through a head of dark, lush waves. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a shampoo commercial. Or one of those sexy firefighter calendars.
It was maddening.
“Are we done here?” she said tartly.
“Yes, ma’am. You’ll need to get an electrician out here to replace your outlet.” He jammed the helmet back on his head and then pointed at her flat iron. “Don’t use that thing anymore. It’s not safe.”
“It’s from Sephora,” she said, but he’d already begun walking away, covering the distance from her vanity to the front door in three easy strides.
The other fireman—the nice one—smiled at Madison as Lieutenant Cole brushed past him. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
She glared at the lieutenant’s back, silently cursing both her lingering butterflies and his fine head of hair.
“Is your colleague always so charming?” she said, injecting her voice with a massive dose of sarcasm.
The fireman offered her a conciliatory smile. “Again, my apologies. If you experience any more trouble, please give us a call.”
He turned to follow Lieutenant Cole back to the fire engine parked at the foot of the gravel drive, where two additional firemen stood waiting and a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered. Odd. In New York, no one paid attention to flashing lights.
But Madison wasn’t in her beloved New York anymore. Clearly.
She shut the door and fought her sudden urge to cry by channeling all of her energy into disliking the smug lieutenant and his smug, handsome face. On some level, she knew she was overreacting. But after ten days of trying her best to look on the bright side...to pick up the pieces of her shattered life and move on...she just couldn’t do it anymore. Vermont had won. She needed to find a way to get her life back. She didn’t belong here—that was the real emergency. Somebody call 911.
The nice fireman’s parting words rang loudly in her consciousness as she picked up her flat iron.
If you experience any more trouble, please give us a call.
She hurled the hair appliance in the trash with more force than was probably necessary. But seriously, like she’d even want to risk having to call for help and roll out the welcome mat for the perfectly coifed Lieutenant Cole?
Not in this lifetime.
Lieutenant Jack Cole was dreaming.
It was a bothersome dream, plagued by a nagging voice, the sort that would ordinarily drag him back to wakefulness. But he hadn’t slept in such a long time—weeks, months, years—so he fought it. He fought it hard.
Just closing his eyes felt so damn good, even better than he remembered. He just wanted to ride it out. Go with it. Let the dream take him wherever it wanted if he could just keep sleeping for ten more minutes. Five. Anything.
“Dude.” Someone snapped his fingers in Jack’s face. “Wake up. I’m talking to you.”
With no small amount of reluctance, he cracked one eye open and realized he wasn’t dreaming at all. He’d fallen asleep on the rig. Again. The annoying voice that kept breaking through the heavy fog of sleep belonged to the firefighter sitting across from him as the engine bounced along the rural road back to the station.
And now that firefighter was shaking his head and eyeing him with sympathy. Jack wished he could close his eyes again. He’d seen enough pitying glances aimed his direction over the past six months to last him a lifetime.
“You’ve got to get some sleep, man,” Wade said. “Either that or take another leave of absence.”
Jack shook his head. “Not an option.”
He was a firefighter. It’s what he did, and he was damn good at it. Or he used to be, back when sleep was a thing that happened with any sort of regularity.
“Well, you can’t keep nodding off on the rig. At least wait until we get back to the station where there’s a recliner with your name on it,” Wade shouted above the jostle of the engine.
Jack shouldn’t have been able to sleep through such a noisy ride, especially in one of the jump seats. No one should. Firefighters sometimes carried earplugs for this very purpose.
He scrubbed his hand over his face and did his best not to succumb to his near-constant overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. The passing scenery helped, but only marginally. Wade was right. He couldn’t go on like this.
“Speaking of things you probably shouldn’t be doing...” Wade jerked his head in the direction of the farmhouse and accompanying barn with its converted apartment space where they’d just completed their first call of the morning. “What was that back there?”
“What do you mean?” Jack narrowed his gaze.
Their captain and the driver were situated in the cab of the truck behind Wade. The call at the farmhouse had been simple enough that they hadn’t needed more than two team members to take a look around. Good thing, since there hadn’t been room for any more people in the tiny apartment.
Wade shot him a knowing look. “Come on, man. You weren’t yourself just now. Don’t you think you were a bit harsh?”
“Harsh?” Jack shook his head. “No. You weren’t there when I first knocked on her door. She tried to argue with
