Firefly Mountain (41 page)

Gini followed his eyes and smirked. “A preview,” she said after Chuck left. “You like?”

“Very much.” Patrick met her gaze now, and the noise of the hall dropped away. The smells of the crowd vanished, replaced by that heavenly wildflower scent that was unmistakably Gini.

“Who was that last chick?” Gini asked.

Patrick blinked and pulled himself out of the play-by-play scene running in his mind of what he was going to do to Gini when he finally got her alone tonight.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I was going to ask you. She didn’t give a name. Just wanted my signature.”

“Maybe she’s your number one fan,” Gini said.

“I was hoping that title belonged to you.” Patrick grinned as he ran his index finger over Gini’s hand resting on the table.

“I consider myself a groupie. Has more of a devoted connotation. As if I’d follow you anywhere.”

“Would you?”

Gini puckered her lips out and looked up to the ceiling as if she were considering her answer. When her gaze leveled with Patrick’s, she slowly eased forward and kissed him.

“You know, Mr. July, I think I would follow you to the moon and back.”

Patrick looped the dangling beads of Gini’s necklace around the fingers of his left hand and tugged her closer. He caught her lips with his and collected another kiss.

“I can’t wait to go home with you,” he said.

“That makes two of us.” Gini maneuvered the beads out of Patrick’s hand and glanced over her shoulder. “I better move along. Your line is getting rather lengthy.”

She blew Patrick a kiss and walked away on those magnificent sandals. When she reached Haddy at the sales table, she immediately sparked up a conversation with an older woman purchasing a calendar. Only the sound of the next person wanting an autograph tore Patrick from his admiration of Gini.

“Did I hear talk that you’re from Rhode Island?” the woman in front of him asked. Beside her stood an enormous bear of a man with his arms folded across his Harley Davidson T-shirt. Clearly, the woman had dragged him to this event. Clearly, he wasn’t happy.

“Yes. You heard right.”

“My daughter lives in Rhode Island now. Could you make the calendar out to her? I’m going to send this to her. I know the gals she works with will get a hoot out of these pictures.”

“Sure.” Patrick took the calendar, found his picture, wrote the name the woman told him, and signed his own name.

“Thanks. If only Gini could have figured out how to make there be more than twelve months in a year.” The woman laughed. The man standing beside her did not.

Patrick nodded toward the man, and the man nodded back, but that was the extent of their interaction. The woman collected her calendar and moved on to the next table. The man followed her wordlessly.

“Can we say jealous?” Chuck whispered, now back with his drink.

“Huh?” Patrick turned to look at him as the next person in line handed him a calendar.

“Old Finneas Yasberg. You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen him without a shotgun held lovingly in his hands.”

“Now that you mention it,” Patrick said, “he looked familiar. I think he was poking around on my land the other day. Had a beagle with him whose nose never left the ground.”

“That would be Haggis, his hunting dog.”

“Isn’t haggis sheep guts or intestine or something?” Patrick’s stomach did a sick flop as he thought about it.

“Yep. Tastes as good as it sounds too.”

“Why name a dog that?”

“Dog has a fondness for sheep. Never picks up the trail of deer, or moose, or bear. Always sheep.”

“People don’t generally hunt sheep, do they?” Patrick asked.

“Nope,” Chuck said. “Hence, the ever-present sour look on Finneas’s face. He’s wanted to get rid of the dog for ages, but Helen won’t let him. He’s stuck with the dog. And Helen, for that matter.”

Patrick slipped the bit of town lore into his mental filing cabinet. If he were truly going to make a life in Burnam—one look back at Gini at the sales table confirmed he was going to attempt it—he should start getting to know the people and their stories. After all, he’d signed up with the fire department to keep them safe. He should know whom he was protecting.

“Tough having all these lovely ladies giving you attention, ain’t it, boys?” Gini’s father asked as he rested a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

“You remember how it is, Walter,” Chuck said. “They can’t resist the uniform.”

“Put puppies and kittens in your hands, and it isn’t any surprise they’re lining up to eyeball all of you. Gini is a marketing genius,” Walter said.

“She gets that from me,” Liz said as she sidled up to Walter.

“No one else can push pastry out the door like you,” Walter agreed.

Gini’s mother beamed a smile at her husband. “Hand getting cramped?” she asked Patrick. “Your line has been the longest.”

“It’s because I’m the new guy.” Patrick fiddled with the pen cap while there was a lull in his line.

“No, dear,” Liz said. “It’s because you’re adorable.” She cupped his chin.

Normally, Patrick shied away from letting people touch him. Easier to keep his distance if he didn’t let them into his circle. Easier to keep his secrets. Being with Gini these last couple of days, though, had definitely thawed something inside him.
Thawed
wasn’t the right word.

More like melted
, Patrick thought. His self-constructed walls, thick and insulated against the world, had been melted by Gini’s touch, by her acceptance of him, by her choosing to be with him even though he wasn’t perfect. He hadn’t thought about his scars or about hiding from folks over the past few days.

“Oh, he
is
adorable,” Chuck said, his eyes rolling as he pretended to swoon.

“You shush,” Liz said to Chuck. “Or there’ll be a sudden shortage of apple turnovers next time you come into the bakery.”

“You wouldn’t.” Chuck grabbed Liz’s hand.

“I most certainly would.” Liz tried to contain her laughter.

“Sorry, Mrs. Claremont.”

“That’s a good boy.” Gini’s mother patted Chuck on the back. She turned back to Patrick as he signed another calendar. When he was finished, she bent so she was close enough to whisper in his ear. “You’ll take care of Gini, won’t you?”

Patrick looked up into Liz’s eyes, ones as blue as Gini’s, and knew she’d been looking for someone to take care of Gini for a long time.

“We’ll take care of each other,” Patrick said.

Liz squeezed his hand as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Never had Patrick felt so important.

“We’re rolling in dough.” Haddy accepted payment for several calendars. “People aren’t buying one or two, Gini. The last four customers bought six apiece and your animal photographs are flying right off the walls.”

“Sweet. I have to say I didn’t think it would be
this
successful.”

“No one’s ever done an event like this before around these parts. People had to come and check it out.” Haddy picked up a calendar and flipped through the pages. “And one glimpse at these pictures is enough to have the stingiest of folks forking over their cash.”

“I think we should volunteer to make the fighters lunch one day next week. We have to do something to thank them for their time.”

“And muscles,” Haddy said.

“True. Let’s not forget the muscles.” Gini glanced toward Patrick and saw the way her mother was beaming at him. What was he saying to her? Why did she look as happy as Gini felt?

“What’s on the menu for tonight?” Haddy asked.

“Thought we’d grill up some chicken. Picked corn and the fixings for a salad this morning. Pasta. Sangria is chilling in the fridge as is some beer.”

“Sounds good,” Haddy said. “Can’t wait.”

Can’t wait until you all go home
, Gini thought.
So I can have Patrick all to myself.
She wasn’t sure she’d make it much longer. Yes, she loved the turnout at the signing. Yes, she loved all the money they were raising for the shelter. Yes, she loved the way the fighters looked on display in their uniforms.

But mostly, she loved Patrick.

As this thought bounced around in her head, Gini realized it was the first time she had felt this way about any man. True, she’d thought she’d been in love with Cameron when she was a teenager, but she didn’t know what love was back then. Sure, Cameron had given her attention and had treated her well until that night in his car when everything literally went up in smoke. But what she felt for Patrick right now, in this very moment, was enormous, deep, and expanding the more she thought about him.

“Gini?” Haddy tugged on her arm.

“I love him.” The words tumbled out, and they felt so right as she said them.

“Oh, Gini.” Haddy threw her arms around Gini’s shoulders. “I’ve never seen you this happy. Go tell Patrick what you just said, what you feel. Don’t wait.”

Gini nodded and squeezed Haddy’s hand. She took three steps toward Patrick’s table where he’d just signed the calendar of the last person in his line. He looked up and smiled at her. She took another three steps and Midas blocked her path. He pushed his nose into her hand, then let out a short bark and backed up a few feet. Midas pressed his nose to the floor and paced in a small circle before coming to Gini again. He went through the entire routine a second time.

“Midas,” Gini said, confused by the dog’s weird behavior. “What are you doing, boy?” As Gini tried to skirt around the dog, Patrick got up. His face lost its smile as he neared the dog. When he was close enough to reach out and touch Gini, a voice boomed over the conversations and Raina’s music.

“Fire!”

Everyone went as still as stone. Talking stopped. Music ceased. All movement in the hall ended.

And then there was panic.

“We have to get out!”

“The fire is at the back door.”

“Head for the front doors!”

“Everybody move.”

Patrick grabbed Gini’s shoulders. “I want you to get out of here. Go. Now. Take Midas with you.” He turned to the dog and pointed to the door. “
Partez
, Midas.”

Gini shook her head, but Patrick spun her around. Midas nudged her toward the doors.

“Gini, please. I’m going to help the rest of the fighters get everyone out. I don’t want to worry about you being in here still. If something happened to you…” Patrick shook his head, and Gini touched his cheek.

“I feel the same way about you. I want to stay with you.”

“You’ll be better on the outside, keeping everyone organized and away from the building until we see what’s going on here.”

“C’mon, Gini,” Jonah said, tugging on her arm. “Patrick is right. We’ll be of better use on the outside.”

Gini let herself be pulled away from Patrick. She ushered Haddy, Raina, her parents, and several other Burnam citizens toward the front doors of the hall. She couldn’t count the number of times she looked over her shoulder, searched the room for Patrick. He was among the other fighters corralling people away from the blaze now raging at the back door.

Two fire trucks were in the parking lot outside, and some of the fighters scrambled over it, donned gear, unraveled hoses. Gini kept a close watch on who came and who went, but she didn’t see Patrick.

“I grabbed the money and as many unsold calendars as I could,” Haddy said. “What the hell is happening?”

“Fire at the back door, apparently,” Jonah said.

Gini watched her brother pace back and forth, upset at not being able to help the other fighters. His pacing reminded her of Midas.

Midas. Fire. Back door.

Thoughts snapped into place like the pieces of a puzzle, and Gini ran.

“Gini!” Jonah called, but she was already around the side of the building. Dark woods surrounded the hall. The light of the moon overhead and the orange glow of the fire burning ahead lit her way. Still, she didn’t see Mason until she ran right into him.

“Whoa. Easy.” Mason supported Gini with his hands on her biceps. “You should be running the other way, Shutterbug.”

Gini pulled free of his grip. “It’s her, Mason. She’s here. Your fire-loving lunatic is here.”

“Where?” Mason swiveled his head in all directions as his hand went for his gun.

“I don’t know, but I’ll bet you anything there’s a candle at that back door and a gasoline trail outside. Midas was acting weird, but I didn’t know what he was trying to tell me. And…” Gini paused and took a deep breath. “What is that?”

Mason inhaled too. “Whatever it is, it’s wretched. It’s not gasoline.”

“No, but it’s familiar.” Gini closed her eyes and focused everything she had on that smell filling her nostrils. She clamped onto Mason’s arm. “It’s the scent on the last candle you found. It’s…” Gini snapped her fingers as she searched her mind. “It’s patchouli, but as if the leaves have been burned or mixed with something harsh this time. Patchouli, like the other scents on the candles, is for relaxation, but making it smell like this is—”

“Totally
not
relaxing,” Mason finished around a cough.

“The scents indicate our arsonist’s state of mind, Mason,” Gini said. “Cinnamon, chamomile, lavender, and patchouli all combat depression.”

“I thought cinnamon was an aphrodisiac.”

“It is, but maybe that’s what she’s depressed about,” Gini offered. “That she has no one to love.”

Two more officers emerged from the back of the hall. “Looks as if the fighters got everyone out, Detective. They’re all waiting out front.”

“Search the group,” Mason said. “Look for anyone you don’t recognize and hold them for questioning.”

The officers jogged to the front of the hall, while Mason turned toward the back. “I’m going to look for a candle once they have that blaze under control. I want you to go to the front with the others and stay safe, Gini.”

Gini nodded. “Be careful, Mason.” She ran to the front and searched the crowd for Patrick. She found her family, Haddy, and Raina, but no Patrick.

Haddy touched her shoulder. “He’s probably battling the blaze out back.”