Santa to the Rescue (2 page)

Lilly took half the bags and walked with Heather to the nursing staff break room. A few co-workers bustled in and out to store their personal belongings before starting their rounds.

“Clearly, you stopped at the grocery store, yet your expression says you’ve been somewhere
waaay
better. Where could that be on a Tuesday?” Lilly demanded. The sparkle in her eyes said she expected a juicy story.

“And what does my expression say, exactly?” Heather unloaded the boxes of candy canes and stacked them on the counter. She placed the cookie dough in the refrigerator with a mental note to take them home after her shift.

Lilly tilted her pretty head and studied Heather’s face. “You have that dreamy quality that can only mean one of two things. Either you’ve had the greatest sex of your life, or expect to, very soon.”

Heather waved a sign of dismissal. “You always have sex on the brain, Lilly. That’s one of your more endearing qualities. Who could out-tell your stories?” Few men could resist Lilly’s vivacious personality, curvy figure, and warm smile. She attracted men faster than a Sunday afternoon football game.

Heather tried to walk around her friend, but Lilly put an arm out to stop her. “Something’s up. I know it. Spill.”

Heather let out a low laugh of defeat. The women had worked closely together since they joined the hospital last year. They communicated almost as well with body language and facial cues as they did with speech. Their non-verbal exchanges were sometimes necessary to avoid disturbing young, fragile patients. “Okay, you win. I met someone at the supermarket. A firefighter.”

“You met a firefighter?” Lilly’s voice squeaked at the end like it always did when she got excited.

“Who met a fireman?” another R.N. on the floor asked as she entered the break room. Marsha’s scowl said she couldn’t have cared less, but Heather knew from experience that if Marsha found an opportunity to put Heather down, she’d take it.

“Heather met a hunk at the supermarket.” Lilly’s green eyes flashed, ignoring Marsha’s chilly reception. “You know Heather, she’s a man magnet.”

“Do bring us his calendar,” Marsha replied, deadpan. She snubbed the boxes of candy canes and went straight to the row of lockers to put her purse away. Marsha never helped with parties and claimed holidays were a waste of time and money. Heather had no idea what made Marsha so disagreeable. She was smart, capable, and attractive, but had the personality of a barracuda.

“Yes, do. I’ll be first to buy one,” Lilly said with a laugh, ignoring Marsha’s trademark sarcasm. “Too bad the hospital doesn’t make a calendar called ‘Morgue Hunks’ so your boyfriend could be in it, Marsha.” She stuck a hand on her hip and struck a thinking pose. “Oh wait. That would be an oxymoron, wouldn’t it?”

Marsha glared at Lilly and then smirked at Heather. “Let’s hope Mr. Firefighter is a better catch than Dr. Heartthrob. Who knew the surgeon had a fiancé in another town? Not
me
, of course. And let’s not forget Mr. Pharmacist…or was the guy who dumped you from Radiology? You might be a man magnet, Heather, but men sure don’t stick with you long.”

“I dumped
him
. I don’t settle,” Heather replied defensively, wishing she wouldn’t let Marsha get to her. “I have standards.” It had taken a broken heart to figure out what those were, but Heather had become more sure-footed in her choices and expectations since then.

“Why should you care, Marsha? You’ve met your ghoul. I mean, goal, to find Mr. Right,” Lilly said. It was no secret that Marsha’s boyfriend, Kenny, had asked Heather out first. It clearly rankled her that she’d taken Heather’s sloppy seconds.

“Have a nice day!” Lilly called out as Marsha shot them a look frostier than an arctic blast and hurried from the room.

Heather released a weary sigh. “This would be the perfect place to work if it weren’t for her.” She resisted the urge to nibble her cuticles. She’d almost broken the nail biting habit that had plagued her since childhood. Heather hated when self-doubt derailed her resolve. “I should know better than to react to her taunts.”

“There’s always a Marsha, no matter where you work,” Lilly replied. “Let’s forget her and meet here at break time so you can tell me about this guy. Then I’ll help you hang candy canes and decorate the tree. We’ll see how many kids can join us.”

“Hopefully, most of them can go home for the holidays and enjoy their own Christmas tree.” Heather took her cell phone out of her purse and turned it off. She stored it in her locker with her handbag.

She’d toyed with the idea of sending a “thank you” text to Jamey before she got to work, but dismissed the idea. If he was half the man she suspected he might be, he’d make the first move. Heather was done with giving men the benefit of doubt before they’d earned her trust.

…

During his return trip to the fire station, Jamey couldn’t help but smile all the way. The promise of seeing Heather again filled him with…something good he couldn’t quite put a name to.

He hadn’t dated anyone in a long time. It hadn’t bothered him, though—he’d been busy interviewing for full-time firefighter positions and then preparing to move.

Now that he’d gotten settled, and had no reason to think he wouldn’t ace his three-month probationary term with the Appleton station, the time seemed right to start dating again. No one had caught his eye like Heather Longhurst. The possibility of forming a relationship with her gave him an adrenaline rush.

Damn. Kitchen duty for the whole crew had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

Jamey turned the radio on and cranked up the music. By the time he parked in the lot at the station, he found himself looking forward to Saturday and a batch of a beautiful woman’s chocolate chip cookies.

“What do you know?” he muttered. “I think I’ve found the Christmas spirit.”

Jamey strode into the kitchen with the bags of groceries. Some of the guys had gotten the pots and pans ready for him while he shopped for food. The men were starved; it had been a long shift. Paul started making toast, a teammate named Knox Bennett made another pot of coffee, and his partner, Frank Johnston, began cooking the bacon. Jamey worked on a big pan of scrambled eggs.

The men ate like a pack of hungry wolves, and when every crumb and drop had been consumed, they all sat back in their folding chairs. The captain debriefed them on the warehouse fire and assessed their performances like a football coach reviewing a winning game. He rubbed his rounded belly, smiled, and stood. Meeting over.

Or so Jamey thought.

“One more thing before you guys clean up and head home,” the captain said. He stared at Jamey while he made the announcement, and the other guys snickered and traded elbow jabs like they knew what was coming. “Tucker, you have weekend and holiday duty until after the New Year, starting this Saturday.” The captain pointed to another junior member of the team. “You, too. Report back in forty-eight hours for your assignments.”

Saturday.
Jamey’s mouth and throat turned dry as desert air. In his mind’s eye, he watched his chances with Heather evaporate. The lightheartedness he’d felt a short time ago disappeared. He’d told her he’d
definitely
meet her at the hospital at one o’clock. He’d given his word. A man couldn’t go back on that.

Jamey knew he was deeply and irrevocably screwed. If he called Heather to tell her he couldn’t make it on Saturday, she’d assume he wasn’t really interested. Texting her to cancel was out of the question. She might understand his predicament, but he’d disappoint her, nonetheless. When a man disappointed a woman right out of the gate, it didn’t bode well for his chances with her.

His only options were to explain the situation in person, or tell her nothing, and hope he could get away to see her during his lunch break. The second option would be risky, especially if he had to handle an emergency. She’d have no way of knowing that he’d been scheduled to work that day or had been called away.

His best choice was to ask to see her and explain why he couldn’t show up at her party.

Hell. He’d been looking forward to that.

When Jamey got back to his apartment for some much needed sleep, he pulled out his cell phone and gave Heather a call. Her phone went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Heather. This is James Tucker. Jamey. Would you like to meet for a cup of coffee tomorrow? I’m off duty. Give me a call to arrange a time and place.”

Jamey closed the bedroom curtains and stripped off his tee shirt. In the mirror across from his bed, the Fire and Rescue Maltese Cross tattoo on his left bicep flexed with the movement. The yellow and orange flames surrounding the cross, and its interior helmet, seemed to glisten in the reflection.

He ran his opposite hand over the tattoo, its ink still fresh, and wondered if Heather would like it. Assuming she even gave him a chance. The tat was the first thing he’d done to celebrate his full-time firefighter status. All his life, he’d never wanted to do anything else and knew he never would. The job gave him a deep sense of purpose and he’d dedicate every day to his tasks.

Jamey touched the swell of his pectoral muscles and considered a second tattoo. Maybe he’d get one on his chest to celebrate the end of his probationary period at Appleton. He slapped his stomach to check that he wasn’t getting soft. Some of the guys let their six-packs turn to kegs, but he swore he never would. That gym membership would be renewed every year until he got too old to lift a barbell or complete a sit-up.

Jamey took off his shoes and socks, slid his boxers to the floor, and crawled naked into bed.

When he woke several hours later, he found a message on his phone from Heather.
Coffee sounds good.
I look forward to seeing you again.

Jamey sent her a quick text to confirm the meeting. A grin spread over his face as he got dressed and headed to his kitchen to rustle up some dinner.

Chapter Two

Jamey stood inside the café, not far from the door, and spotted Heather approaching the entrance. The air she breathed turned to frosty little gusts until she stepped across the threshold.
A Holly, Jolly Christmas
played in the background.

He thought Heather looked great in scrubs, but nearly came undone at the sight of her in painted-on jeans and killer heels. Her ponytail had been replaced with long tendrils of shining blond curls that cascaded to the center of her back. Her blue eyes shone when she spied him waiting for her. She smiled and became a vision, like a Christmas angel.

How the hell did he get so lucky?

He smiled back, not hiding his pleasure at seeing her again. There was no use pretending she hadn’t almost knocked him out. A woman deserved to be appreciated.

Jamey didn’t know when Americans replaced handshakes with hugs as the official greeting, but the moment Heather wrapped her arms around him to say hello, he welcomed the practice. He’d never been much of a hugger, but Heather’s warmth against him—the feel of her soft breasts against his jacket, the scent of strawberries in her hair—changed his outlook in an instant.

He hugged her back, resisting the primal urge to pull her close, tilt her chin up, and kiss her senseless. Images of her naked in his arms flashed through his brain, her long hair trailing over creamy skin while he dragged his tongue down the column of her throat. He let her go and stepped back, glad for the coat he wore like protective armor. The song
All I Want For Christmas
filled the air.

“Hey.” That wasn’t the greeting he intended, but was all he could muster. He regained control and said, “Let’s find a table.”

While he ordered their hot drinks at the counter, she waited at a corner table, smiling across the room at him while maintaining eye contact. His heart lifted. She liked him. If she found him half as attractive as he found her, they’d gotten off to a good start. All he wanted to do now was prove he wasn’t a jerk.

He’d heard his sisters talk about men, how most of them weren’t worth crying over, though they’d cried their share. Their broken hearts made him want to bust a few heads. He’d sworn he’d never hurt a woman on purpose.

His father had treated his mother like a rare jewel all their married life, and she seemed to love him back something fierce. His grandparents had been happily married for sixty years. Jamey wanted that for himself and his wife one day. He’d seen happily ever after with his own eyes and knew true love wasn’t a myth.

Those were things he would never speak of out loud, of course. The guys at the firehouse wouldn’t look at him the same way again if he did. Men didn’t talk about love, they talked about sex. They bragged and put each other down to secure their places in the pecking order. They pretended not to have feelings. But Jamey knew better. Not having feelings and not talking about them were two entirely different things.

He made his way back to the café table, carrying a tray with Heather’s cappuccino and his dark roast, along with slices of gingerbread cake topped with powdered sugar. The smell of Christmas filled his senses. The realization that he had to work over the holidays and cancel his plans with Heather on Saturday rankled.

When she smiled at him again as he passed her the coffee and dessert, his solar plexus tightened and his pulse raced. He’d have to fight to stay cool around her. This woman might have the power to bring him to his knees.

Santa Baby
began to play over the sound system and Heather’s eyes lit up. “This is my favorite Christmas song.” Jamey recalled Heather’s round little butt rotating with the tune at the grocery store in vivid detail. He held back the urge to say it had become his favorite since meeting her.

She began to hum along, punctuating the melody with an occasional burst of phrase. She grinned self-consciously when she realized he’d been watching her. “What’s your favorite Christmas song?” she asked.

“Ah, not something traditional. You’ll laugh if I tell you.”

“Oh, c’mon. It couldn’t be any less traditional than
Santa Baby
, could it?”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “Guess not. Mine asks for time at the beach instead of a ’54 convertible. I like,
All I Want For Christmas Is A Real Good Tan
by Kenny Chesney.”

“I love that song! I’d like a new car better than a tan, though. Wishful thinking, I guess.”

“Maybe we can take your convertible to the beach if Santa comes through.”

Heather giggled then. “Wouldn’t that be great?”

They drank their coffee, ate cake, and chatted about their families and careers. Jamey felt a connection forming and hoped Heather felt it, too. He brushed his hand over hers on the tabletop to be sure. She responded by pulling her chair closer.

They were definitely getting somewhere.

He wished he could kiss her right here, right now, but knew it was still too soon. When he did kiss her, she’d know without a doubt she meant something to him and that he wasn’t playing games.

A kiss like that was worth the wait.

He watched her body relax and realized he’d relaxed, too, just being with her. Then Heather leaned forward and began talking about “her kids” at the hospital. Her expression lit up as she told him about her work, treating children who were often seriously ill. Then she touched his hand and said, “I can’t wait for you to meet them at our party on Saturday.”

That’s when Jamey knew their date had just gone into the shitter.

“Oh, you’re cancelling?” Heather sat back in her chair, confused by Jamey’s mixed signals.

When he called the same day they’d met, she’d been impressed by his lack of pretense. Lots of men tried to play it cool after meeting a woman and didn’t phone for days afterward. They were often too busy trying to gain the upper hand to let go and act on impulse. When Jamey invited her to meet for coffee, she assumed he was different from other men. That they’d made a genuine connection and he wasn’t a player.

She thought for sure their casual date had gone well. Had she said or done something to put him off? Is that why he’d put the brakes on his earlier commitment?

Maybe men really were all the same.

She reached down to pull her purse off the floor, but before she could make an excuse to leave, Jamey took her free hand. He held it this time and gave it a reassuring squeeze. His palm felt sturdy and strong.

“Wait. Where are you going? I really do have to work this weekend. And the next, until the holidays are over. I’m not trying to back out of anything. I didn’t know I’d be on duty until after we met.”

The sincerity in his eyes seemed convincing, yet Heather hesitated to believe him. What did she really know about James Tucker? Very little, except what he’d told her. She had nothing on which to base an opinion about the quality of his character, except his actions.

“Do you really think I’d miss seeing you again? Or give up a plate full of my favorite cookies if I didn’t have to work?” The lopsided grin he offered chipped away the icy shield she’d lowered over her heart. “Can’t we just make alternate plans?”

She took another look at Jamey. Well, of course they could. Maybe he wasn’t really a jerk and her suspicious nature had almost gotten the better of her. Why wouldn’t he want to see her again? The man should be damn glad to attract a bright, capable woman like her. Right?

Still, she wondered. Doubt niggled at the back of her mind. She’d been burned by lies before.

Some men could lie better than they told the truth. They’d look right through her while they weaved fabrications—like being single when, in actual fact, a fiancé waited in the wings. Or neglecting to mention two small children who lived with their mother. Though her last boyfriend claimed he couldn’t stand the sight of his ex-wife, she found out they hooked-up every time he dropped off a child support check.

She tried to dismiss her disappointment.
Play it cool
.

Heather forced a smile in response to Jamey’s handholding. She was making too much of his cancellation. Why make Jamey pay for the crimes of other men? She should learn to trust again, like her kids trusted her, even when she inserted a needle or dispensed medication that made them wince, day after day.

“It’s no big deal,” she said in reply, regaining her composure and shrugging a shoulder.

The smile slid from his face. The reassuring gleam in his eyes went out.

No. Wait. That sounded all wrong. “That’s not what I meant.” She shook her head and tried to restore the previous intimacy forming between them. Too late. Jamey had released her hand. She curled her fingers so he wouldn’t notice her tattered cuticles and telltale self-doubt.

His fault. Though he’d promised to call Heather, and hugged her good-bye after walking her to her car, Jamey had a sinking feeling he’d somehow failed the first date test. He hadn’t done a damn thing wrong; he was just trying to be honest. If he and Heather dated, she’d have to learn to be flexible. Firefighters sometimes worked crazy hours. Didn’t nurses have emergencies, too? Jamey wondered what had happened to Heather that she couldn’t take his word at face value. If he got another chance with her, he sure as hell intended to prove she could.

Jamey reported for duty Thursday on time for the team meeting the captain had called. The crew met regularly in the kitchen for briefings and debriefings, but Jamey had no idea what the captain had planned this time. By the way the older guys smirked and shifted in their seats, he had a feeling they knew a lot more than he did.

Maybe a yearly meeting before the Christmas holiday was an Appleton tradition.

The captain showed up after everyone got seated, his expression more staid than Jamey had ever seen. His boss stood at the front of the room like a preacher about to give a sermon. Usually, he sat with the guys to talk.

Jamey shifted in his seat, the first pangs of worry scraping his gut. Was a lay-off coming? Last in, first out? Had he failed his trial run? When the captain eyed him and didn’t blink, dread rolled up his spine.

This couldn’t be good.

Jamey barely heard what the captain said next.

Paul, Jamey’s partner, got up and left the room. When he did, the captain stared directly at Jamey. Some of the other guys turned to stare, too, wearing smirks he wanted to wipe off their faces.

He was just about to ask what the hell was going on when Paul returned carrying a big red and white fuzzy bundle. He came around to Jamey’s side of the table while the captain and his team looked on. Paul placed a hand on Jamey’s shoulder. “Son,” he said. “We have an unbreakable tradition at Appleton. Rookies get a very special assignment at Christmastime.” Paul stopped for a dramatic pause, stifling laughter as he traded chuckles and winks with the rest of the crew.

Jamey took a good look at the roll of fabric bunched in Paul’s free hand and his stomach did a flip.

Oh no.

Paul continued. “The rest of us take this assignment between the new hires.” He unfurled the Santa suit, complete with a fake belly, a hat, beard, and white wig, stored in a clear plastic bag, and held them up like banners. “I’m passing the honor to you.”

The captain and the rest of the guys hooted and cat-called, while Jamey resigned himself to his fate. As hazing went, his had been pretty tame. Apparently, this Santa gig marked the finale of his Appleton probationary period.

Jamey pasted a smile across his face as if he’d won some kind of contest, stood, and took a bow. The men in the room applauded and whistled.

When the noise settled, the captain piped in with instructions. “Knox and Frank will drive you around our neighborhoods to hand out candy and wish the families a Merry Christmas. Our Open House starts Saturday at noon. We’ll need you to play Santa to the kids who visit the stationhouse. It’s good community relations. Expect a long day and hundreds of visitors. You can handle it.”

Paul slapped Jamey on the back. “Congratulations, Santa.”

…

Friday text message:

I hope you and your kids have a great party. Eat a cookie or two for me. I’ll call you. –Jamey

A few minutes later, Heather replied:

Thanx. TTUL. —H

Jamey winced. She really did have trust issues, didn’t she?