Mark put his hand on hers. “Are you sure about this? This isn’t like the PTA. It’s a commitment to help protect the community. The people. This is a volunteer job, but the program is tough.”
“You don’t think I can do it?” she asked.
His expression softened. “It’s not about that and you know it.”
“I want to help,” she said, and realized she meant it. “I can at least look it over.”
After another moment, he narrowed his gaze and squeezed her hand. “I doubt anyone could stop you, anyway.”
She took the papers from Don with a grin.
Mark pulled his own form in front of him. “This is insane,” he muttered.
“For your information, the PTA can be cutthroat,” she said.
He chuckled as his pen touched paper.
“This is the weirdest hooky I’ve ever played,” Riley said. She peeled the backing off the children’s “honorary firefighter” sticker Don had given her and stuck it to her shirt.
“Agreed,” Mark said, pulling the sucker out of his mouth. He’d lucked out with cream soda. “Have you had enough, then?”
“Is there more?”
“That depends on you.”
She tapped her chin with her finger. “Hmm, I seem to recall this guy wanting me to paint something for him for Christmas.”
His brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your commitments.”
“Ha,” she said. “I’ve been away from my commitments for”—she counted on her fingers—“less than six hours, and I think I’ve piled on even more. How did you manage that?”
“I didn’t manage anything. Volunteering at the firehouse is all you.”
“Oh yeah, like I’m going to let you keep all of your selflessness to your . . . self.” She scrunched up her nose, and Mark shook his head, putting the sucker back in his mouth.
“I’ve got a few books you can borrow,” he said around the stick. “You can at least read up on procedural stuff and decide if you still want to do it.”
“I do want to do it,” she said. “Besides school, and the nativity, and the renovations, I don’t have anything else going on. I’m strong. I’m smart. My summers are free.”
“Are you going to be here this summer?”
Her confidence wavered. “What?”
They were pulling down her street, and he parked in front of her house.
He removed the sucker from his mouth. “Are you going to be here this summer?” he repeated slowly.
She faced forward, smoothing her expression. “I’m not sure, but it’s looking that way. I mean, the first year of teaching is probationary in Washington, so if they don’t like me, or if I don’t really like the school—” She trailed off. She rubbed at the knot forming in her chest. New Orleans rose in her thoughts.
“Riley?”
“What?”
“Just think about it before you commit. Okay? It’s real.”
“And teaching isn’t real?” She’d committed to teaching. She just hadn’t committed to teaching in Miracle Creek . . . yet.
“Both are real,” he said. “All I’m saying is, think about it.”
She took a breath, knowing he was right. But it wasn’t that simple. “I’ve done a lot of different things. Taken a lot of paths. It’s how I work. Just because I want to explore another path doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be important to me. I’ve considered a lot of important things. And I’ve left a lot of important things.”
He looked away.
“Mostly for the better,” she added. “It’s life.”
A muscle worked in his cheek. “You said you’ve always wished for a home.”
“No, I said I stopped wishing for one.”
He turned to her, his brow furrowed. “You’re messed up.”
She blinked at him, this boy-hero-man who hid from people behind a hood. “You think I’m messed up? You stalk people instead of calling them on the phone.”
He leaned toward her. “You threaten people in cars with baseball bats.”
“That joke’s older than the Stickley.”
He glowered at her, and she matched him for a moment.
And then he began to laugh. That rich, deep laugh that first taught her who he really was.
She smiled. And for the first time she considered what it might be like to leave Mark Rivers behind.
She pushed the thought away. “So, plunk head, do you want to see how the nativity is coming along?”
He nodded. “Sure thing, C-fire.”
She wrinkled her nose. “C-fire?”
“Trust me.” He stuck the sucker back in his mouth. “It fits.”
Riley watched Mark out of the corner of her eye. He chopped vegetables while she browned hamburger for spaghetti sauce. He was good at it.
“Are you cooking more at home?” she asked.
He nodded. “We’ve gotten by with mac and cheese, Stouffers, and sometimes Dad’s famous tuna casserole, which is not famous for its taste, trust me. Steph goes to Costco once a month and brings us fruit because she’s afraid we’ll die of scurvy. I told her I’d be better at feeding us.”
“Where does your sister live?” she asked.
“Over on Cedar.”
“She married someone from here?”
“No, they met at WSU. He’s from Richland, but he liked it here and found a job in Wenatchee. Steph never intended to live outside of this valley. She made that pretty clear when they were dating, I think.”
“You’ll have to introduce me.” She was curious to meet more of the Rivers family.
“I don’t think so,” he said, bringing the chopped onions and peppers over and sliding them off the cutting board with the knife.
“Why not?” She stirred in the veggies, inhaling the scent rising from the pan.
“Because she’s a whole other type of fire, and I can only handle one of you at a time right now.”
She gave him a funny look, then opened the jar of sauce.
He’d been pleased with her progress on the nativity. She’d finished a sheep and had begun work on the star last night. She’d thought she’d get to work right away on the baby after they’d figured out the face, but she’d only been able to pencil it onto
