“No. It’s me, not you.”
He scratched his head. “I’ll guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Jake stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly back to the store, silently counting sidewalk cracks and pondering his conversation with Maggie. Was that a panic attack she’d had in the hardware store? Maybe she had medical issues? The woman was a mystery, that much was clear.
That didn’t explain why his good intentions and resolutions disappeared when he was around her. It seemed the more he resisted, the closer he danced to the flame.
He stopped outside the Paradise Floral Shop and stared at a sign in the window.
Don’t forget to order your date a corsage for the Founder’s Day supper!
Despite what Maggie thought, it was a date. He’d call in an order later.
Right now he had to get back to the store.
He had just pulled open the glass door to the hardware store when the fire horns began to sound. Simultaneously his cell phone rang, the tune indicating a text.
Jake raced to the parking lot while reading the message.
10-24. Auto fire.
The address was Bob Jones’s fix-it shop.
He swallowed hard and headed to the fire station while silently praying. Trouble seemed to court Maggie Jones.
Maggie was wedged under the sink in the back room when the shop’s front door opened. Now what? From the street the echoing rumble of the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department’s pump engine could be heard as it finally departed.
She blew strands of hair out of her eyes and gave the pipe wrench a quick turn. Only early afternoon, yet she was more than ready to call it a day before anything else happened. The steely look Jake had given her as he assessed the smoldering remains of her uncle’s ancient and battered Ford engine was enough to keep her praying for the Lord’s protection and assistance to stay out of trouble and out of Jake’s way, at least until the Founder’s Day supper.
Apparently Jake was so fit to be tied he sent another fireman, Duffy McKenna, to fill out the report. Fine with her. Redheaded Duffy had a face full of freckles. He was sweet and he kept her laughing. Of course he wasn’t as...well, as three-dimensional as Jake. In fact all the firemen were nice, and understanding. The only one glaring at her was the chief. It seemed that the word accident wasn’t in his vocabulary.
“Hello?” a voice called out.
“Coming,” Maggie returned.
She wiggled out from beneath the drain pipes and stood up, straightening her clothes as she approached the front counter. A dark-haired teenager stood straight and tall. His bright blue eyes, magnified behind black-framed glasses, darted around the room as he wiped his hands on his jeans. The kid seemed to be all arms and legs. An earbud was hidden beneath his black curls, and the other end of the cord dangled around his neck. A wrinkled, once-white T-shirt hung on his lank body. He adjusted his glasses and stared at a point beyond her right shoulder.
“Beck Hollander, I presume.”
He nodded.
“Maggie Jones.”
Silence.
“You help part-time in the shop.”
Another nod.
“My uncle has gone fishing for a few weeks. Perhaps you’d prefer to wait until he returns.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to be a bad influence. I am currently persona non grata with the PVFD.”
Beck cleared his throat. “I heard.”
“Heard? Heard what?” She grasped her ponytail and gave it a sharp pull, yanking the loose hair back into order.
“You burned a truck.”
Maggie grimaced and wrapped her hands around the neck of the blender she had been working on prior to the fire drama earlier in the day. She concentrated on tightly winding the cord around the base.
“That’s not exactly what happened, though I suppose the details don’t matter, do they? Let’s talk about you.”
He said nothing.
Undeterred, Maggie pasted a smile on her face. “Senior?”
Short nod.
This was worse than the blind dates her parents had set her up with. If she’d learned anything from those disastrous experiences with scholarly types who were inflicted upon her with her parents’ high hopes of a future academic progeny, it was that open-ended questions were the ticket.
“What are your plans after high school?”
“College.”
She sighed, and continued, refusing to be defeated. “Major?”
“Engineering.”
Ah. Gotcha, you little brainiac.
“Biomedical, civil, environmental, electrical, computer, mechanical, energy?”
“Electrical and computer engineering.”
“Great. I double majored in agronomics and earth science at UC Davis. Recently finished my doctorate.”
His jaw slackened. “You don’t look like...”
“What? A smart girl?”
Beck’s face turned solid red from his neck to the tips of his ears, which peeked out from his mop of hair. “I, uh...sorry.”
Maggie laughed. “Please, I’m flattered. Most people don’t think I look like a professor, either.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re a professor?”
“Was. Physical science. I’m currently between jobs. And to be clear, I’m an assistant professor.”
“Why teaching, when you could...” He gestured with a wave of a skinny arm.
“Oh, you know. Sometimes it’s easier to go along to get along. Ironically, as it turns out, I like teaching.” Maggie lowered her voice. “But I’ll tell you a secret, someday I’m going to open my own nursery. I’m thinking about my own line of honey. Organic lavender, too.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how or when, but someday.”
A smile spread on the kid’s narrow face.
Yes! The barrier had been breached.
“So, anything in particular I need to know about your hours, Beck?”
He shook his head.
“What do you do around here?” Maggie asked.
“I handle most of the computerized repairs. Before your uncle left I rewired the shop’s security alarm system. Now it can be set remotely.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Bob, uh, Mr. Jones isn’t into digital stuff.”
“So, do you get a lot of computerized repairs in Paradise?”
“No, but we get a lot of people stopping by for computer help.”
“Uncle Bob dispenses computer advice?”
“No. I do. Mr. Jones doesn’t even have a computer.”
Maggie laughed. “Now that sounds like Uncle Bob. So, do you charge for this advice?”
“No. It’s free. I’m like a tutor.”