Mr. February (2 page)

Rafe chuckled, caught himself, and frowned. He wouldn’t let this woman charm him.

Tibetan prayer flags were strung across the eaves over the porch. That and the aging VW van parked behind the hatchback in the gravel driveway reminded him of the years he’d lived with his mom.

Jillian frowned. “It’s about time JR got back.”

Rafe figured JR was her boyfriend. He wasn’t about to ask—didn’t want to know, but the words slipped out. “Who’s JR?”

“My brother,” she grumbled. “Thanks for walking me home, and for loaning me your jacket.”

His unwitting gaze dropped to her plump, inviting lips. Jerking his attention to the jacket, he held out his hand for it.

“Let me wash it first. I’m happy to drop it off at the fire station later.”

The guys were sure to razz him. He shrugged. “Sure. I won’t be in again until Monday.”

“Then you’re a part-time firefighter?”

He shook his head. “I work Mondays and Tuesdays, two back-to-back, twenty-four-hour shifts. That’s forty-eight hours a week, with five days off in between.”

“Your days off sound nice, but isn’t it dangerous, working such long hours with no break?”

“We each have a place to bunk at night, so I usually get some sleep. Even on busy nights, I manage all right. After eleven years, I’d better.” Ready to leave, he gestured at the cottage. “Stay dry.”

He turned away and strode back toward his property.

Chapter Two

‡

W
hen Jillian entered her kitchen through the back door, JR and Chelsea were seated at the little wood table she’d bought at Second Hand Rose, the best shop in town for her budget.

They’d pulled last night’s casserole from the fridge and were devouring the leftovers straight from the dish. A casserole Jillian had put together and paid for. She’d planned to reheat those leftovers and serve them for dinner tonight.

Not anymore.

In the month since her twenty-three-year-old brother and his then five-week-pregnant girlfriend had shown up homeless at her door, they’d strained her food budget as well as her patience. As thrilled as Jillian was about becoming an auntie, she had her limits.

She gave JR a dirty look. “You’re eating tonight’s dinner.”

Six years her junior, with a big appetite, he paused mid-bite and gave a sheepish shrug. “We didn’t know you were saving it, Jill.”

“I told you last night.”

Most of the time, she wanted to throttle him. Still, he was her only sibling, and she loved him dearly. She hadn’t laid eyes on him in five years, since he’d left for parts unknown. Then one wintry morning he’d knocked on her door.

As glad as she was to have him back healthy and safe, the years he’d lived on his own hadn’t changed him much. As payback for this temporary room and board, while he found a job, saved up, and moved into his own place, he’d agreed to help out whenever she needed him. Occasionally, he followed through, but most of the time he made sure to be gone.

Jillian’s patience was rapidly thinning.

Chelsea, barely twenty, raised her eyebrows clear above her dyed-red, shaggy bangs. “You’re a wet mess. Does that jacket belong to the guy I saw you with out there? Who is he?”

She
would
notice. “Yes, this is Rafe’s jacket. We met when I chased Pooh in the rain.” She frowned at JR. “She escaped again.”

“Don’t look at me.” He ran his hand through his equally shaggy, sandy hair. “I penned her in the yard, as you asked. It’s not my fault she got out. If someone penned me in, I’d leave, too.”

Thanks to their father’s rigid rules and harsh forms of discipline, JR had done the same thing the semester before graduating high school.

“Did you say
Rafe
, Mr. February on the firefighter calendar in your studio?” Chelsea squealed. “Way to go, Jill!”

“He walked me back under this umbrella because I was freezing,” Jillian said. “He didn’t want me to get even colder and wetter.”

JR gave a knowing grin. “But you kept his jacket. I guess you’ll be seeing him again.”

For some reason irritated, Jillian huffed out a breath. “Will you stop?”

“What’s wrong with getting yourself a boyfriend? Since I’ve been here, you haven’t had one.”

Until Jillian met the right man, she didn’t intend to change that. “Pooh needs a bath, JR.”

“In other words, butt out of your love life. Got it. Yeah, I can smell Pooh. When I finish eating, I’ll bathe her.”

“The sooner, the better. By the way, I told Shannon I’d stop by and see her and Georgia this afternoon. I’ll be leaving soon.”

Two weeks ago, Jillian’s best friend had given birth to Georgia, the sweetest, most perfect infant ever. From the moment Jillian had held her and gazed into her trusting gray eyes, she’d fallen in love. A stunning, aching longing had filled her, for a child of her own. Not sometime in the distant future, but soon. Over the past two weeks, the longing had grown even stronger.

Becoming an auntie would be great, but wouldn’t change the fact that in October, a mere seven months from now, Jillian would be thirty.

Her biological clock was ticking, and she was finally ready to settle down with one man and make a life together. Which was pretty amazing, considering a mere two years ago, she hadn’t imagined ever wanting kids or marriage. Not even with Douglas, her boyfriend of several years. Jillian had been sure she loved him. And yet, during the months they’d lived together, he’d proposed three times. She’d always turned him down.

Finally, fed up, Douglas had moved out. After Jillian had gotten over the pain of losing him, she’d realized she hadn’t really loved him, after all.

Chelsea’s eyes lit up. “I’d give anything to see Georgia. Let me go with you, Jill.” She bit her lip and glanced at JR. “Unless you need help with Pooh’s bath?”

“I can manage. Go ahead, Chels.”

Knowing Shannon wouldn’t mind, Jillian smiled. “Of course, you can come. But we won’t be staying long. Shannon’s worn out, and I really need to get back to work. After I shower, change into dry clothes, and grab a bite to eat, we’ll leave.”

After dinner tonight, she’d run a load of laundry and wash Rafe’s jacket. Sometime tomorrow, she would drop it off at the fire station.

And that would be the end of that.

*

Shannon gestured Jillian and Chelsea into her bungalow with the same dark circles as before under her weary eyes.

Jillian handed her friend the gossip magazine she’d brought. “That’s for you to read when you have time. And this is my brother’s girlfriend, Chelsea.”

Shannon smiled. “I finally get to meet the future mother of Jillian’s niece or nephew. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Grinning, Chelsea cupped her barely visible baby bump. “I’m due in September.”

While the two women chatted about babies, Jillian excused herself to wash her hands in anticipation of holding Georgia.

“I’m dying to see the baby,” Chelsea chirped as Jillian returned. “Where is she?”

Intermittent infant noises punctuated the question, courtesy of the baby monitor on the coffee table.

“Sleeping, but as you can hear, she’s just waking up.” Shannon gestured in the direction of the nursery. “Do you want to come with me while I get her up and change her?”

“Yes, please,” Jillian and Chelsea replied at the same time.

While Shannon deftly diapered the sweet little girl, Jillian marveled at her. “I swear, she’s grown in the last two weeks.”

“Half an inch and a whole pound,” Shannon said proudly.

Chelsea clasped her hands together. “She’s so tiny and so cute.”

“Would you like to hold her?”

“More than anything.”

“Then wash your hands, and we’ll see you back in the living room. Here, Jillian, you carry her.”

Dying for the honor and still madly in love with Georgia, Jillian carefully transported the precious bundle to the sofa. “Are you enjoying motherhood?” she asked.

Shannon’s smile radiated joy. “I’m exhausted, but I’ve never loved anyone this much in my life. Except Asher. You should see him with her. He’s crazy about her.”

“It seems like yesterday you two got married.”

“It’s only been a year, but when it’s right, it’s right.”

A wave of longing swept through Jillian, for a husband and baby of her own. With a tentative hand, she smoothed Georgia’s light-brown hair over her little round head. “Her hair is so soft,” she said in wonder. “Don’t keel over and die, but I’m admitting here and now that I’m ready to settle down and have a baby, too.”

Shannon’s eyes widened. “You met someone.”

Jillian thought briefly of Rafe, but he was all wrong for her. “Not yet, but I’m ready to start working on that.”

“Working on what?” Chelsea asked as she entered the living room.

Giving her head a subtle shake, Jillian warned her friend not to mention what she’d shared. But Shannon’s attention had fixed on lifting her child from Jillian’s arms, and she didn’t notice. “Jillian is ready to fall in love.”

Chelsea wore a sly look. “I
knew
you were interested in Rafe.”

“Rafe?” Shannon frowned.

“The guy on the firefighter calendar—Mr. February,” Chelsea clarified.

“You know him?” Shannon looked intrigued. “You never said a word.”

“You’ve been kind of busy. Besides, I only met him this morning, when I was out, chasing Pooh,” Jillian explained. “He isn’t my type.”

“A man with his looks is any woman’s type,” Shannon murmured.

Chelsea nodded. “For an old guy, he’s cute.”

“Hey, watch it,” Jillian said. “He’s around the same age as Shannon and me.”

Busy making baby talk to Georgia, Chelsea didn’t reply. As young as she was, Jillian had a hunch she’d make a good mom.

The baby began to fuss. “She’s hungry, and I need to feed her,” Shannon said.

Jillian nodded. “And I should get back to the studio.”

They all stood. Jillian hugged her friend.

“Good luck with your search for Mr. Right,” Shannon murmured in her ear. “Keep me posted.”

Chapter Three

‡

E
arly Friday morning, Rafe parked off the dirt road a mile or so from where he usually parked when he visited his newest property acquisition.

He exited the car and then leashed Calvin, his sixty-pound Vizsla. In contrast to the previous day, the sky was clear. Despite the chill air, leaf buds on the trees and trills from several hardy birds signaled the coming spring. A great day for a run.

Calvin agreed, and when Hank and Gus, fellow crewmates, showed up, the dog woofed in excitement. He knew what lay ahead.

Rafe was tight with both men, as well as the other nine firefighters and the captain and who worked his shift. Living together every week for forty-eight hours straight meant getting to know each other real well, warts and all. None of them was perfect, but Rafe knew without hesitation that no matter what, they had his back. Just as he had theirs.

After they greeted each other and stretched, Hank glanced around. “I’ve never been out here before. It’s nice. Which way are we heading?”

An avid runner who’d attended college on a cross-country scholarship, he usually set the pace at just short of torture.

Eager to show his buds the site of his future home, Rafe gestured toward the west. “Straight for about a mile then head right. I’ll let you know when.”

Hank nodded. “You jokers ready?” Without waiting for an answer, he took off at a fast clip.

Rafe was in good shape, but dodging mud and puddles, tree roots and imbedded rocks, took its toll. Soon, his breathing grew labored and his leg muscles burned, urging him to slow down.

Not an option. Relying on mindful observation, a tool of self-discipline he’d learned from his father and had honed with years of practice, Rafe concentrated on his breathing and let everything else fall away.

A few yards shy of the turnoff, he lengthened his stride and caught up to Hank. “Turn here.”

After veering right, the cross-country fanatic upped his speed to killer level.

Soon they reached the edge of Rafe’s property. “This is it,” he called out, coming to a stop. Calvin plopped onto the grass, panting. “The site of my new home.”

Hands on his knees, Gus gulped air. “Great view of the Siskiyou Mountains,” he said when he straightened. “I see Guff’s Lake in the distance, too. Sweet.”

The town’s namesake was located in the foothills of the Siskiyou Mountain Range. Snowmelt kept its four-mile diameter waters sparkling and drew locals and tourists for fishing, hiking and camping. Or for luxury accommodations at the five-star resort and hotel.

Hank wiped sweat off his face with the hem of his T-shirt. “I see why you decided to use this part of your ‘vast empire’ for yourself. It’s about time you did.”

Rafe’s holdings hadn’t exactly reached vast empire status yet, but he approved of the label. “I’m thirty-two,” he said. “It’s time I built myself a home.”

A permanent place, where he could put down roots.

“You hired Sonia to design the house, huh?” Hank asked.

Rafe nodded. “She’s the best architect around.”

“If she’s like the rest of the women you date, she’ll probably work for free to get you into the sack, stud.”

Ignoring the nickname they used to get a rise out of him, Rafe shook his head. “I admire her work ethic, but otherwise, she’s not my type. She has
I’m looking for love and the whole nine yards
written all over her.”

Rafe wanted no part of that. His buds understood. They knew what he’d suffered through as a kid, and what a mess he’d been until age ten, when he’d moved in with his dad. Thanks to the man’s discipline and structure, Rafe had straightened up.

By the time his dad had married a few years later, Rafe had been on a solid path to success—good grades and a junior varsity position on the middle school basketball team. His stepmom, Lori, had brought her own two kids into the marriage. She hadn’t wanted Rafe around. But her acceptance of him had been a deal breaker for Rafe’s dad, and she’d learned to tolerate him. Still, she’d never shown him any real warmth, and when she and his dad divorced two years later, the only fallout Rafe had suffered stemmed from his father’s grief over the failed marriage.