The Firefighter's Twins

“Twin two-year-old boys,” Shay said.

Oh, my. Natalie’s gaze darted to his ring finger. Nothing. Warmth heated her cheeks. She only needed his help with the festival, right? Shay’s family life—particularly his potential single-dad status—was none of her business. The heartache over losing Spencer was enough to last a lifetime. She gave herself a mental shake. Avoiding firefighters, remember?

“How about the other trucks we’ve had in the past?” Pastor Adams chose a chocolate chip cookie from the box. “Kids enjoy climbing all over that stuff.”

Bless him for steering the meeting back on track. “We always have a tractor, riding mower and Dad’s old pickup truck available.” Natalie glanced down and double-checked her notes. “I’ve left a message with a heavy equipment company in Raleigh to see if they’d bring a loader or a dump truck out. They haven’t returned my call.”

“Do you want my husband to follow up on that?” Missy whipped out her phone. “He has quite a few contacts through the department of transportation.”

“That would be fabulous. Thank you.”

“Of course. Let me send him a quick text.” Missy’s fingers flew over her screen.

Shay declined the cookie Erin offered. “Is there any sort of performance or live entertainment?”

“Yes, that’s the best part.” Natalie grinned. “Jayce Philips, the hottest new thing in country music, grew up here, and he promised to be our headlining act. Isn’t that great?”

Missy gasped. “No way.”

“He’s a great kid.” Pastor Adams nodded his approval.

“I still can’t believe it,” Natalie said. “His mom indicated he might give away two tickets and backstage passes to his Raleigh concert, too. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

Shay’s countenance dimmed.

Natalie studied him. What was wrong? Maybe he didn’t like country music. Or he’d never heard of Jayce Philips. If that was even possible.

“Could we auction those tickets off or hold a raffle?” Missy’s smile widened, and she snapped her fingers. “Oh, how about this. All proceeds benefit the family moving into the new house.”

“Perfect. I’ll follow up with Jayce’s mom.” Natalie typed in a quick note on her to-do list. “Our biggest issue is finishing the house. We’ve had great support from local volunteer groups, including several men from the church, but it looks like we need even more people to step up. I’m a little concerned that we’re running out of time. These next six weeks are crucial.”

“I can’t officially commit until I talk to some of the guys at the station, but this sounds like the kind of thing we could get involved in,” Shay said. “When we aren’t on shift, we’d help with the landscaping or the plumbing, hanging drywall—anything we’re skilled at doing.”

Natalie felt her mouth drop open. “You’d do that? For us?”

“Of course. Like I said, I’d need to ask around. I’m a little new to be volunteering the whole station, but the chief’s made it very clear that you will have our full support.”

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

He grinned, warmth returning to his eyes. “Say ‘thank you.’ Maybe a few cheeseburgers from The Grille would help, too.”

“Done.” Natalie held his gaze, noting the way a crescent-shaped scar on his cheek accompanied that incredible smile of his.

“I’ll schedule some youth group work parties, as well.” Pastor Adams dusted crumbs from his fingers. “Our congregation always pulls together when there’s a need.”

“See? We’ve got you covered,” Missy said. “It’s all going to work out.”

“I hope you’re right.” Natalie typed more detailed notes into the app. She still couldn’t envision this all coming together in the next month. But she’d never forgive herself if the festival and the service project fell through on her watch. Now that Forever Love’s incredible offer had arrived, wooing her with a fantastic opportunity, she’d have to work extra hard to guard against distraction. There was too much on her plate already.

Shay linked his arms across that muscular chest she couldn’t seem to get out of her line of sight.

It was time to add “stop staring at handsome service project volunteer” to the top of the to-do list.

* * *

Shay corralled Aiden in the bathroom and swept him up in his favorite bath towel—the one with a puppy face and floppy ears on the hood and his name embroidered on the front. “What does a puppy say, Aiden?”

“Woof, woof.” Aiden grinned, beads of water from the bath still clinging to his pale eyelashes. That adorable, innocent smile offered a ray of hope—a tender reminder that even in Shay’s exhausted state, he could keep going. In moments like these, weary from the marathon of the evening routine, he found himself wishing for a partner—someone to laugh at the boys’ antics with, as well as share the load. Natalie’s head cocked to one side, her gaze holding his, flitted through his mind.

No.

He gritted his teeth. Who was he kidding? He pushed the mental image aside and shifted his focus back to the boys—where it belonged.

“That’s right.” He quickly dried Aiden and settled him on the bath mat. “Let’s put your jammies on.”

“Books?”

“After we brush your teeth, okay?”

“’Kay.”

He’d already lifted Liam from the tub, dressed him and sent him across the hall to play in the bedroom. Once he had Aiden’s diaper in place, Shay leaned back on his heels and listened.

Silence answered back.

“Liam?” he called over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“He play.” Aiden stared up at him, fingering the hem of the bath towel lying nearby.

“It doesn’t sound like he’s playing.” He scooped Aiden up, grabbing the clean pajamas off the counter on his way to the door. “Let’s go check.”

“Yee-um?” Aiden called in a soft voice as they crossed the hallway to the boys’ bedroom.

A line of cars and trucks sat abandoned in the middle of the floor, and puzzle pieces were spilled underneath one of the cribs, but there was no sign of Liam.

“Nope, not here.” Shifting Aiden to his other hip, Shay hurried down the hall of their modest rambler and stopped at the back door. The dead bolt was secure, so he moved on, checking both the washer and dryer in the laundry room. Don’t panic. He’s got to be here somewhere.

“Where go?” Aiden opened his palm heavenward.

“I don’t know. We’ll find him.” He jogged to the front door and double-checked the childproof knob and the lock. A two-year-old couldn’t get past that, right?

He pivoted, raking his hand through his hair as he surveyed the den and breakfast nook. “Liam?” His voice echoed off the empty walls. “Come out, buddy. No more hiding. It’s time to read books.”

Aiden giggled. “Yee-um hide.”

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Shay muttered. His heart rate rising, he retraced his steps back down the hall toward the master bedroom. Once or twice since they’d moved in, he’d allowed the boys to snuggle in bed with him and watch a cartoon on TV. It was the only way he could keep them still while he caught a few more precious minutes of sleep.

“Liam?” He yanked back the comforter on his king-size bed. Empty. His chest tightened. “Where is he, Aiden?”

Aiden regarded him with a wide-eyed stare, his thumb tucked securely in his mouth. This was probably just the beginning of the boys taking up for each other. Shay glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Mom would be over in a few minutes. She could keep Aiden occupied while he searched more thoroughly. Maybe he should call her and ask if she was on her way.

“Sweepy.” Aiden mumbled around his thumb, resting his head on Shay’s shoulder.

“I know you are. It’s almost bedtime. As soon as we find your brother.” He patted Aiden’s back while he went to the kitchen to grab his phone. When he reached the tile floor, something hard crunched under his bare foot. He stepped back and glanced down. The remnant of a Cheerio was smashed against the tile. A few more dotted the space between him and the pantry door, which was open a fraction of an inch. Shay nudged it open the rest of the way. Liam sat on the pantry floor, surrounded by the cereal—likely the entire box.

“Liam Douglas Campbell, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh-oh,” Aiden whispered.

“Da-da.” Liam offered up a Cheerio. “Want some?”

“No, I do not. Get up. Right now.” Shay couldn’t keep the exasperation from his voice.

Liam clambered to his feet, Cheerios sticking to his dump truck pajamas.

“Daddy mad.” Aiden patted Shay’s back.

“Daddy is mad. You know better, Liam. You don’t go in the pantry without a grown-up, and you certainly don’t open anything without asking.”

Liam’s lower lip pooched out, and he hung his head.

Oh, here we go.

His little body trembled as he began to cry. Out of sympathy, Aiden sniffled a few times before launching the waterworks, squirming to get down. Shay was happy to comply, releasing Aiden to stand with Liam, perhaps in a declaration of solidarity. They stood together, sobbing in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“How did we get here?” he whispered, massaging his aching forehead with his fingertips.

The doorbell rang, which only meant one thing. Backup.

“Let’s go see who’s here. I sure hope it’s Nana.” They made their way to the front door, the boys’ cries escalating. He was certain that was for Nana’s benefit.

He checked the peephole. Mom stood on the porch, holding a grocery sack and her overnight bag. He turned the lock and then opened the door. “Hey, Nana. We’re glad you’re here.”

“Oh, my.” Her eyes widened. “What’s the matter with my fellas?”

He stepped aside so she could come in. “Someone did some unsupervised exploring in the pantry.”

She slid the groceries onto the table, next to a plate with Liam’s half-finished supper on it, and set her bag next to the chair. She kneeled down and tugged Liam toward her, smoothing his hair with her hand. He melted against her shoulder, sniffling.

Aiden’s tears had slowed, replaced by hiccupy breaths. “Nana. Hugs.”

“Pajamas first, pal.” Shay glanced around. “Where are they?”

Aiden ignored him, toddling over to nuzzle Nana’s other shoulder.

Leaving Mom to soothe the last of their tears, Shay backtracked until he found Aiden’s fire truck pajamas on the floor, in the laundry room.

“Here we go, buddy. Let’s put these on.” Aiden didn’t put up any resistance. Shay helped him pull on the shirt and pants, while Mom took Liam over to the couch.

“Why don’t we read a few books before bed?” She pulled some of their favorites from the stack on the coffee table.

Shay considered protesting that Liam’s misbehavior shouldn’t be rewarded. Books were a privilege. But they looked so adorable, snuggled on either side of her, and he was too tired to fight them.

“I’ll fix their milk.” He trudged to the kitchen, side-stepping the mess on the floor.

Once their sippy cups were full, he returned to the den. Mom was halfway through The Little Blue Truck. Aiden’s eyelids drooped, and Liam had already fallen asleep.

She touched a finger to her lips and then kept reading. When she’d finished, Shay carried first one boy and then the other to their room. Although they had separate cribs, they’d refused to sleep apart. He settled them both in one crib, turned on the monitor, night-light and music box. Tiptoeing out of the room, he closed the door behind him. What a day.

In the kitchen, Mom stood at the counter, ladling beef stew onto a plate. “Have you had supper?”

He shook his head. “No. The boys did, but I didn’t get a chance.”

“I’ll warm this up. Would you like some bread? I brought rolls.”

“You didn’t have to do all that. What’s Dad eating?”

She waved him off. “I’m happy to help. You need to eat, son.”

His mouth watered. In the weeks after Monica’s sudden departure, the anger and confusion were all-consuming. People brought meals, but most of it ended up in the garbage. Now, almost a year later, he craved real food again. He could sit at the table with the boys and not let the empty fourth chair bring him to tears.

Mom slid the plate into the microwave.

“You didn’t answer my question. Where’s Dad tonight?”

While his supper reheated, she took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice and water. He waited. The set of her shoulders indicated she didn’t want to talk about it. But they never talked about it. That was the problem.

“He has plenty to eat. Don’t worry about him.”

“Mom, if you coming here is an issue, I can hire a nanny.”

The microwave beeped. “Don’t be silly. I love coming over.”

“But Dad doesn’t.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and carried his plate to the table.

He followed, gently placing his hand on her arm. “I’m serious. I hired help in Virginia, and I can do it again here.”

“Nonsense. You don’t need strangers watching the boys. That’s what grandmothers are for.”

“Not when it aggravates the grandpa.”

She offered a sad smile. “Don’t you worry about your father. I trailed him all over creation for years with the military. This is how I want to spend my retirement. He understands.”

“But he doesn’t have any time for his only grandchildren.” Shay bowed his head and silently thanked God for his food. When he opened his eyes, Mom stared at the table, cupping her glass of water with both hands.

“He loves Aiden and Liam in his own way.” Her voice, thick with emotion, gave him pause.

Measuring his words, Shay spread a paper napkin across his lap. “At some point, he’s got to demonstrate that. They’re perceptive. They’ll start asking why Grandpa never wants to hang out with them.”

“Honey, we aren’t going to change your father. The best thing we can do is keep praying and creating opportunities for him to be involved.”

Shay speared a bite of meat with his fork. While her response carried truth and wisdom, it still stung. So far, Dad had avoided almost all interaction with the boys. He’d come by the house once, maybe twice, since they’d moved in. The complex web of hurt and guilt undergirding most of his interactions with his father wasn’t the boys’ fault. He wouldn’t let them carry the heavy burden of disapproval.

“Were you able to join that committee the young lady at the birthday party mentioned?”

Shay dipped his bread in the broth, pooling on his plate, too hungry to protest her deliberate shift to a new topic. “Yes. My first meeting was this afternoon.”

“Oh? How’d it go?”

“Great. Looks like the fire department will play a big role in the festival.”

“Wonderful. I’m sure you’ll be a tremendous help.”

“Hope so.” He also hoped he could find a way to get Natalie’s teasing smile out of his head. His thoughts had turned to her often. Too often. Dating wasn’t even an option. They’d lost so much when Monica left. While the thought of being a single dad forever planted an icy ball in his gut, bringing someone new into the boys’ lives was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

Chapter Three

By the middle of the week, Natalie’s stomach was twisted in knots over the email from Forever Love, as well as the lack of progress on the service project. She paced the street in front of the unfinished house, her mind racing. Discarded candy wrappers and empty plastic water bottles littered the quiet space. Despite the community’s faithful commitment to help, they were woefully behind. At this rate, they’d have little more than a shelter to offer their chosen family.

She stopped pacing and glanced across the street to her family’s farm. Even though she’d read Karen’s email at least a dozen times, she still couldn’t believe it was real. The thought of telling her parents about the offer had squelched her initial enthusiasm. She’d conveniently avoided the conversation and kept the offer a secret from everyone. Maybe she needed to just get it over with. She fished her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and mentally rehearsed the call.

Hey, Mama. Got a minute? I’m thinking about selling Magnolia Lane and moving to...

Ha. That would not go over well. She sighed and shoved her phone back in her pocket. This was home. All she’d ever known, minus her years spent an hour away in Chapel Hill, at the university. Could she pick up and start over in Charlotte? If she said no, would she always wonder what if?

The uncertainty weighed heavily on her mind. Despite her own personal heartache, orchestrating weddings that exceeded brides’ expectations made her happy. Fulfilled. Their ecstatic smiles, and the groom’s expression when he saw his bride for the first time, made all her efforts behind the scenes worth it. Forever Love’s offer meant an end to juggling Magnolia Lane and the farm. An end to her constant frustration over turning away clients because she felt pulled in two directions. She’d always dreamed of planning weddings full-time. Was this finally her chance to pursue her dream?

Tires crunched on gravel behind her, and she turned around. Three pickup trucks had turned off the highway and approached, easing into a tight line on one side of the street.

Car doors slammed, and she counted six men reaching into truck beds and pulling out toolboxes, power saws and a portable cooler. The guy parked closest to her was the last one to get out of his truck. When his boots hit the ground, he grinned at her through the driver’s-side window.

Her pulse kicked up a notch. Shay?

The guys chatted back and forth while they hauled their tools and supplies toward her. She stared in disbelief.

“Hey, Natalie,” Shay called out, pausing to anchor his tool belt around his waist. “How’s it going?”

“I’m—you—why are y’all here?” Warmth flooded her cheeks as she struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“Campbell rounded us up.” Trent angled his head toward Shay. “He said you needed a little help finishing this house.”

“A little help?” She let out a wan laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

Shay grabbed a large bottle of water from the truck’s cab. “We’re prepared to work hard. Why don’t you give us a quick rundown. What needs to be done first?”

The guys—most of them familiar faces from around town—fanned out around her, waiting expectantly.

“I—I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much to do. Finishing the plumbing and electrical work, hanging the drywall...”

“I’m up for a challenge. How about y’all?” Trent shifted his toolbox to his other hand and motioned for the guys to follow him.

They made their way up the driveway and onto the crude front steps, their work boots clunking against the plywood.

Shay stepped away, but she reached out and touched his arm. “Wait.”

His gaze traveled slowly from her fingers to her face. When their eyes met, something passed between them—an unmistakable spark that made her mouth dry and tangled her thoughts. Again.

Shay raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

She dropped her hand to her side before it lingered a second longer. “Thank you. Really. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What can I do to help you? Who’s watching your kids? I mean, I’m assuming you’re single and all. Otherwise...” She pressed her lips together, heat climbing up her neck. Just stop talking.

His eyes gleamed, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Why do you ask? Is there childcare included for frequent visitors to the pumpkin patch?”

“Very funny. No, I’m not offering childcare.” She stopped short of mentioning that he probably wouldn’t trust her with his boys, given her limited experience with the toddler crowd.

“The boys are napping. I took a walk on the wild side and hired a babysitter since my mom’s enjoying a day off.”

“Good for you. I hear there are a few reliable ones around.”

He checked his phone. “So far, so good. She hasn’t called me.”

“They’re sleeping, right? How much trouble could they get into?”

Shay chuckled. “You don’t have kids, do you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Can’t you tell?”

He studied her, as though he was going to say more. Instead, he put his phone away and grabbed his water. “I better get to work.”

“I didn’t bring any tools over, but if you have an extra hammer, I’d be glad to help out for a little bit.”

His eyes widened. “Seriously?”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “What? Girls aren’t allowed to use hammers?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your expression said it all.”

“I’m pretty sure we can round up an extra hammer.”

“Good. Tell the guys supper’s on me. I’ll run and grab something when y’all get hungry.”

A wide smile stretched across his face, rocketing her heart rate into orbit. “Deal.”

* * *

Shay lingered in the driveway, feeling like a teenager with that stupid grin plastered across his face. He needed to get inside and get to work. The jolt of electricity that zinged from Natalie’s fingertips to his arm was hard to ignore. So was a pretty girl with the courage to grab a hammer and help build a house. Annoyed that he found the idea so appealing, his smile faded, and he reached for his tools.

“Shay? Do you have a tape measure on you? I must’ve left mine at home.”

Shay pivoted. Trent stood in the open doorway, one hand braced on the frame. His gaze flitted toward Natalie and then back to Shay. Curiosity flickered in his expression, and Shay willed him not to say a word. Nothing to see here.

“Yep.” Shay unclipped his tape measure from his tool belt and met Trent at the top of the steps. “Where should I start?”

“We’ve got to finish the subflooring first. Natalie, you’re going to have to get somebody else in here to handle the electrical stuff.”

“Yeah, I know.” Gravel crunched under her feet as she strode up behind Shay. “Electricians who are available to wire a whole house are hard to come by around here. Is there something else I can help with?”

Trent’s mouth twitched. “I don’t want to offend you, but we don’t expect you to move sheets of plywood by yourself.”

Natalie laughed, brushing past him and into the house. “I’m not offended. I didn’t want to move plywood, anyway.”

Shay stepped inside and studied the layout. The entry opened to a kitchen and breakfast nook on one side and a living area on the other. What would eventually be a hallway led to the bedrooms. Through the unfinished walls, he counted three more rooms, a bathroom and laundry area.

“How would you feel about operating a glue gun?” Shay asked.

Natalie faced him. “A glue gun? For what?”

“If we glue the subflooring to the joists, it keeps the floors from squeaking.”

Trent shot him a look. “You’ve obviously done this before.”

He shrugged. “Maybe a few times.”

“If you’re not careful, Natalie will appoint you project manager,” Trent said.

“No kidding.” Natalie smiled up at Shay. “If you tell me you were an electrician in a former life, I might hug you.”

Promise? Heat crept up his neck. An awkward pause ensued. “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for hugging a glue gun instead.”

Trent smothered a laugh with a cough and turned away.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you clever. Show me this glue gun, and we’ll get started.”

“Sweet. Let’s look back here.” He crossed to the hallway and stopped in the opening for the first bedroom. Sheets of plywood leaned against the far wall in a neat stack. A glue gun and several boxes of nails were balanced on top of an overturned bucket.

Natalie came up behind him. “Did you find—”

He held out a hand to keep her from coming any farther. “Watch your step. It looks like whoever started the installation stopped right about here.”

The fragrance of her perfume—sweet and flowery—teased his senses as she pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it with a band she’d slid from her wrist. There wasn’t anywhere for him to go. She had the only exit blocked, and the exposed floor joists kept him from moving farther into the room. But he didn’t trust himself to stand there, feeling the sleeve of her plaid shirt brush against his arm, while he figured out how to play it cool and put them both to work.