I would suggest that Fired Up try the recipe again. If my dear reader still considers the recipe too bitter, a dash of good old-fashioned Vermont maple syrup could be added. But if my suspicions are correct, Fired Up is the bitter one. Not my applesauce.
Sincerely,
Queen Bee
“What’s all this?”
Wade’s question startled Jack so much that he nearly hit his head on the inside of the refrigerator in the firehouse’s kitchen where he was busy stacking Tupperware containers of homemade applesauce. Yesterday had been his day off, and when he hadn’t been busy changing diapers or warming up bottles of formula, he’d been at the stove, trying to use up all the apples he’d purchased after the apple avalanche at the Village Market. Two tiny babies could only eat so much applesauce, though. And if fourteen years as a firefighter had taught him anything, it was that a group of guys stuck under one roof together for any period of time would eat just about anything.
“It’s applesauce.” Jack waved a Tupperware bowl in Wade’s general direction. “Want some?”
“No, thanks. I just ate.” Wade narrowed his gaze at the packed refrigerator shelves. “How much did you make? I thought you were trying out recipes for the girls. This looks like enough applesauce to feed an ar—”
Jack tensed as Wade’s voice drifted off. He had the distinct feeling he was about to be busted in a major way. Couldn’t a man make a few gallons of homemade applesauce without getting the third degree from his coworker?
Note to self: find some regular hobbies.
“Tell me this doesn’t mean what I think it does.” Wade shook his head. “My God, it does, doesn’t it? Fired Up in Lovestruck. I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Jack slid a bowl and spoon across the counter toward Wade. Maybe if he could trick his friend into stuffing his face, they wouldn’t have to talk to each other, and he could avoid this painful conversation altogether.
“It sure seems like one.” Wade peeled the lid off the bowl and peered at its contents. “You’ve basically started an all-out war with a local reporter.”
“Hardly.” Jack swallowed. “It’s more of a minor skirmish, not a war.”
“Dude,” Wade said around a mouthful of applesauce. “She wrote a letter to the editor of her own newspaper calling you bitter. Everyone in town is talking about it. That’s not normal. None of this is normal.”
He had a point. Still, Jack had actually felt relieved when he’d spotted her letter in the Bee. She’d called him out, and rightfully so. He’d definitely tossed the apples into his food processor, seeds and all. And now he had apples coming out of his ears—more than enough to experiment with, thanks to his recent flirtation in the produce department at the Village Market.
Thinking about it again, something hardened deep in his gut. He hadn’t been flirting, or more accurately, if he had, it had been purely accidental. He had neither the time, nor the desire, for a woman in his life—especially a woman like the wild-haired beauty he kept bumping into.
Liar. You might not have the time, but the desire is another matter entirely.
Their fingertips had touched as they’d reached for the same apple, and boom. Jack had been hit with a longing so raw and so deep that he’d nearly kissed her right there in the produce section. It was insane. They didn’t even know each other, and he was fairly certain she despised him.
Scratch that. She definitely despised him.
At least the new development in his ongoing feud with Queen Bee had helped keep his mind off his new crush. In the hours he’d spent making applesauce, he hadn’t thought about her big doe eyes or bow-shaped lips more than a handful of times. Ten, tops.
Liar...again.
“You’re not going to tell Cap, are you?” Jack said, gaze flitting in the direction of the apparatus bay where he’d last seen his boss inspecting one of the rigs.
Wade arched a brow. “Why not, since it’s completely normal and healthy to be arguing with a woman you don’t know via the local paper?”
Jack sighed.
“Fiiiine.” Wade pointed his spoon at Jack. “But swear to me you’re getting a night nanny. I have to believe all this nonsense is just temporary insanity brought on by single fatherhood and lack of sleep.”
Jack raked a hand through his hair. “It’s not as easy as it sounds. I called that service that Brody’s sister recommended, and none of the résumés they emailed me were acceptable.”
Maybe he was being overprotective, but nothing was more important than his girls. As much as he needed some help, he was having a hard time imagining letting a stranger take care of them. So far only Jack himself and other family members had watched over them.
Of course, that demographic included his ex-wife, and odds were, anyone the nanny service sent to him would probably be more interested in the twins than Natalie ever had been.
“Not a single one of them?” Wade tossed his spoon into the now-empty bowl with a clang. “I don’t believe that for a minute. You’ve got to let go, man. Just a little bit.”
Let go. It sounded so easy. So...doable. Except he’d been holding on so tightly to things for so long that relaxing his grip seemed impossible.
“I’ll try,” he conceded as he inserted a pod into the coffeemaker.
Wade brushed past him on the way to the refrigerator. “Nope. No trying. Either you hire the next applicant for the night nanny position, or I tell Cap about your secret identity.”
“You’re going to blackmail me into turning my children over to a complete stranger?” His head ached. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world for this.
“A competent stranger,” Wade countered. “Are you forgetting that you’re going to be at home while
