Fireman Dad

Besides, focusing on how much he loved his job distracted him from the memory of Marissa’s smile.

Jacob dropped his sponge back into the bucket of sudsy water and reached for the garden hose. “Crank it,” he hollered from the driveway outside the bay to Steve. He waited for the water to gurgle, then aimed the green tube at the top of the truck. Water gushed out and Jacob wiped his sweating forehead with his shirtsleeve as he sprayed. Try as he might, he couldn’t erase the dreaded repeat of Marissa’s words at the end of last night. “My dad—Fire Chief Brady.” The simple sentence pulverized his brain until he could barely think straight. Of all the dads in all of the world, why did hers have to be his boss?

His boss, who not even a year ago made life so miserable for one of the men on Jacob’s shift, that the guy finally requested a transfer—all because of an overheard crude comment about his daughter. Chief Brady played by the rules of the union and their laws about seniority, but if he needed those rules bent for his own purposes, he wasn’t above stretching whatever lines he could—hence the reason his old coworker was now in Baton Rouge instead of Orchid Hill. No, offending Chief Brady wasn’t a good idea—and one of his firemen dating his only daughter was sure to be considered offensive, even if Jacob’s intentions were more honorable than his coworker’s lewd comment.

Well, make that former intentions.

Jacob leveled the hose at the truck tires, and mentally kicked himself for not connecting the dots sooner. He’d known the chief’s daughter’s name was Marissa, but since she obviously still went by her married last name, he had no reason to assume it was the same woman he’d taken out last night.

Disappointment sucker punched Jacob’s stomach like a heavy fist. How was he going to help plan Olivia’s birthday party and host the Fireman’s Festival with Marissa, knowing he could look but never touch? Last night in the parking garage, he’d asked Marissa on a real date. Now he was going to have to forego on his word, something he hated to do, all because the world was much, much too small.

Jacob drew a tight breath in an attempt to battle his frustration. “Okay, kill it.” He waited for Steve to shut off the water, but several moments passed and it continued to spew from the hose. “Steve! I said kill it.” If his coworker had gone back inside to catch the end of the soccer game on TV … Jacob’s frustration, combined with the heat of the sun beating down on his head and neck, boiled over and he stomped around the far end of the truck with the hose. “Steve! Where did—”

He stopped short, nearly running into a pair of shiny black boots and starched white dress shirt, as the water continued to pour.

Straight onto Fire Chief Brady.

Jacob watched any chances of pursuing Marissa’s heart drip off the top of Chief’s hat and onto his pressed pants. “Chief Brady, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you.” He opened his mouth to apologize further but clamped it shut as the chief removed his wet black sunglasses.

“I suppose that’s what I get for making a surprise visit.” He rubbed the lenses on his shirt, but they were so wet that it didn’t seem to help. He smiled, but in the afternoon sun it came across more as a grimace.

Jacob suddenly realized the hose was still gushing water, now down the driveway toward the street. He quickly dropped it and jogged to the faucet on the side of the brick station. With a quick yank, he stopped the flow. The sudden quiet seemed overwhelming. Chief pointedly cleared his throat.

“Let me get you a towel.” Jacob headed into the bay, mortification heating his neck hotter than the sunburn he could feel tingling the tips of his ears. A hand towel from the station kitchen wouldn’t do much good, but he couldn’t stand there staring at the chief’s undershirt beneath his uniform any longer.

He snagged a towel and brought it to the chief, who had followed him to the front door of the station. Steve jumped off the couch and shut off the soccer game with a quick click of the remote control. Jacob shot him a glare. He owed Jacob—kitchen duty for a month, at least. Though, come to think of it, that might be more a punishment on Jacob’s part.

Captain Walker breezed in from his office by the kitchen, did a double take at Chief Brady standing in the doorway patting his neck with a dish rag and raised his eyebrows at Jacob. Jacob shook his head.

“Afternoon, Chief. What brings you by?” Captain Walker extended one arm to offer the chief access inside, then hesitated at the puddle forming by the older man’s boots on the concrete walk.

Steve snorted back a laugh, and Jacob elbowed his ribs.

“Come on in. My boys will handle the mess, don’t worry.” Captain Walker gestured to the chief, confusion puzzling his brow.

“That’s all right. I need to get back and get a fresh uniform now.” Chief Brady handed over the wet towel. “I’m heading to each station to give notice in person that we’ve received more emails from locals upset about the layoffs.”

Jacob’s back stiffened and he shifted his weight, hoping to hide the obvious frustration welling in his chest. Did the chief know Jacob by his full name? Would he immediately connect the fact that his brother was one of the firefighters let go?

Or worse yet, that he had taken his daughter out to the Boardwalk last night? He swallowed.

“Threatening emails?” Captain Walker rested one hand against the door frame. “Or angry citizens blowing smoke?”

“Some of each. Let’s keep an eye out in case things get violent. If there’s any suspicious activity around the station, let me know immediately. One of our men’s personal vehicles at Station 3 was broken into last night, but Captain May seems to think it’s unrelated.”

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