"It won't." Cassie's automatic assurance didn't do a whole lot to alleviate Natalie's concern. "I'm getting hungry for dinner. Are we almost done?"
Tonight Natalie was facing Greg over a Chinese dinner. It was the "transfer" night from one house to the other, and Cassie wanted the two of them to meet at the restaurant. Natalie knew that Cassie would always try to get her and Greg back together, however misguided" her heart. It wasn't as if Cassie disagreed with the divorce—Natalie had talked to her about it. Cassie just wanted her parents to live in the same house again, and she would probably have those feelings for a lifetime.
"I'm almost done," Natalie said.
Moving through the craft store, a basket looped over her arm, Natalie buttoned her coat. There had to be something wrong with the heating system because it was just as chilly inside the store as it was outside.
The cold atmosphere didn't help gather the warm front she needed to put on tonight. She'd put this dinner out of her mind, but now she'd have to go through the motions. It wasn't as if she carried any animosity toward Greg. It was just that whenever she was in his company, she was reminded about why she'd divorced him. He always did this stupid thing with the check: he was so anal about a tip he always took out a pocket calculator to make sure he tipped exactly fifteen percent
As she headed for the cash register, Natalie saw three Boise firemen coming toward her from the back of the store. They were in their turnouts and helmets, all carrying axes.
Slightly alarmed, Natalie wondered if there was a fire in the store.
Cassie paused, her voice raising an octave. "Mom, there's a fire."
"I don't smell anything burning, and no announcements have been made."
"Then how come the fire department is here?"
"I don't know."
She recognized Tony Cruz almost immediately. He stood out among the others, his shoulders broad and his face so good-looking that every female shopper within shouting distance stared with obvious appreciation. He made eye contact, giving her an easy smile and a lift of his chin to acknowledge that he knew her.
Unexpectedly, his friendly gesture went straight to her beating heart and gave it a jolt. Why did she have a physical reaction to him whenever she saw him? She knew he was off-limits.
"Mom, do you know that guy?" Cassie asked. "He's hot."
"Oh…he's…" Natalie felt a sudden loss for words, thinking that, yes, Tony Cruz was hot. Blankly, she formed words to counter what she was really thinking. "He lives in the house across the street."
Tony approached them.
"Is there a fire?" she asked him, keeping her tone even.
His voice was calming, reassuring. "The heater tripped an alarm. It turned off the switch. The heating and air-conditioning company's coming out to fix it."
No wonder it was so cold in the store.
The other two firemen continued to walk ahead, but Tony held back.
"Hi," he said to Cassie, and Natalie remembered she wasn't alone.
"This is my daughter, Cassie. Cassie, this is Tony Cruz."
"Hi," Cassie replied. "You guys rock."
Tony grinned. "Thanks."
"A girl in my college dorm set off the sprinkler system when she had a fire in her room."
Natalie gazed at Cassie. "You didn't tell me that."
"Yeah, I did." To Tony, she went on. "She was burning candle wax on a hot plate, forgot about it, and the heat blew up a can of air freshener on the counter. A shelving unit caught fire."
"I would have remembered this," Natalie said.
Cassie shrugged. "Then maybe I told Austin's mom when I was on the phone with her."
Natalie bit back a sharp pang, not taking any time to examine it.
"It was nice to meet you, Tony," Cassie remarked; then to Natalie, "I'm going to see if they have confetti and those blowers for New Year's. Me and Austin are going to have a party."
Cassie excused herself, leaving Natalie with her thoughts spinning. A New Year's party? Would that be a private party? Or a big beer party? Or…
"Pretty girl." Tony's comment intruded on Natalie's musings.
"Thank you." She stole a look at his face without being obvious. >
While he gave the appearance of being relaxed and in control, she sensed an undercurrent of something different charging through him. A tension that was unwelcome, and an anxiousness that told her something had changed inside him. She saw thin lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn't been there before. An old scar at his right temple, just at the tip of his eyebrow, was now clearly defined.
He looked tired.
Happening to glance out her front window, she'd seen him twice this week—coming and going in his Dodge Ram. She hadn't spoken to him since that day he'd shoveled snow for her. He'd been a godsend.
"How was your Christmas?" she asked politely.
"Fine." He nodded, an almost perfunctory gesture, as if he'd done it a thousand times on various calls, then he shifted his stance in a way that made him stand taller. Natalie took in the scope of his presence, almost a little intimidated by his formidable size.
He wore large black boots with zippers running up the tops. His feet were big. His body was big in the reflective-striped turnout. Everything on him looked immense—from his helmet to the oxygen tank strapped on his back—but the whole image of him in uniform was presented in a way that wasn't threatening. To the contrary, his ready-for-action appearance was quite reassuring.
If she hadn't seen the restless mix of uncertainty and dull pain in his eyes, she would have sworn he had no worries in his life. But she had seen that spark of emotion, however fleeting, and it compelled her to ask about his welfare.
"Have you been busy with calls?" she questioned, but really meaning—"Is everything okay at home?"
She wasn't sure how she was
