The Fireman Finds a Wife. Felicia Mason

      He watched as she took a sip of water from the glass and handed it back to her sister. She then seemed to notice him and the two firefighters, and her eyes widened in panic.

      “What happened?”

      “You fainted,” Spring said.

      Her cheeks got even redder, and this time Cameron suspected that it might be a blush of embarrassment. He wanted, inexplicably, to soothe the tension from her.

      “My name is Cameron Jackson,” he said. “I’m the fire chief here in Cedar Springs. We,” he added with a nod toward the two crewmen with him, “came to check your smoke alarms. You requested the service from the department.” He said it almost as a question, something that made the woman smile.

      The siren of an ambulance could be heard through the screen of the still open front door.

      “Billy, go give them a sitrep.”

      “Yes, sir.” The young firefighter gave a half salute to the two women and dashed toward the door.

      “Would you like to go to the hospital?”

      “No, there’s no need” Summer said, glancing up at Spring. “My sister’s a doctor. And I’m sorry. I guess it’s not every day that someone falls out over smoke alarm batteries.”

      Cameron looked up at Spring, the pieces finally falling into place. Spring Darling. She was the doc who worked at the free clinic. They’d never met, but he’d heard of her. What he didn’t know was that she had such an enchanting sister.

      “You’re Dr. Spring Darling,” he said.

      “Guilty as charged,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake.

      He did and was surprised to find that she shook hands like a man. The grip strong, steady and sure. It was a bit off-putting, but he didn’t know why.

      “And I’m Summer Spencer,” the younger sister said, standing.

      The handshakes were as different as the seasons they were named for. Summer’s was light, airy and barely there.

      Fifteen minutes later, after the paramedics also checked her vitals, the firefighters Billy and Chip and the two emergency medical technicians who had arrived in the ambulance said their farewells, each licking his lips from cheesecake samples and clutching a plastic sandwich bag filled with homemade cookies.

      Cameron was about to follow them when he stopped in his tracks. Spring, trailing behind to see him to the door, bumped into him.

      “Sorry about that,” she said.

      He turned.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “We didn’t check the smoke alarms.”

      She grinned.

      Summer, her purse slung over one shoulder, shook her head.

      “I need to get down to the clinic, sis. First-aid kits and home fire extinguishers are in the kitchen, second shelf, and in the hall linen closet upstairs. My housewarming gifts to her,” she added for Cameron’s benefit.

      “She’s the practical one,” Summer said dryly.

      Ignoring the teasing Spring continued, looking at Summer but talking to Cameron. “I should see Mom at the clinic so I’ll call you in about half an hour to confirm the time for Sunday.”

      Cameron got the subtle but effective warning from the older sister. Spring was leaving him alone with Summer, but would call in thirty minutes. He could appreciate the protectiveness, but also wondered if there might be more to it. She’d fainted at the sight of firefighters on her doorstep. Was that the residual effect of some trauma she’d suffered? Summer had a different last name than her sister. Was she pregnant? Ill? Where was her husband? She wasn’t wearing a wedding band, but that didn’t mean much to some people these days. Clearly the doctor had concerns, but Cameron kept his questions to himself.

      “They took the new resident kits with them,” he said. “I’ll go grab one from the truck. Your home safety check won’t take long.”

      * * *

      While the Cedar Springs fire chief roamed through her house, Summer Spencer did what she always did when nervous or upset. She baked. By the time he returned to the kitchen, she had a batch of cookies in the oven and was placing dirty pans and utensils in the dishwasher.

      “All done?”

      “Yes,” he said. “You look good.”

      When the color rose in her cheeks, he apparently realized the unintended double entendre. “I mean, the house. Everything is fine with the house. Your batteries are all replaced. Wiring looks... The wiring is fine, too.”

      Summer took a bit of comfort in the fact that he seemed as uncomfortable as she was.

      “So, you’re a baker?”

      “Oh, no. I just dabble,” she said, shutting the dishwasher door and drying her hands on a towel.

      “Your cheesecake rivals what’s sold over at Sweetings,” he said. “My guys and the paramedics left here looking like they’d found the keys to the cookie store.”

      “Thank you,” she said. “Cooking and baking relaxes me.”

      Years ago, she would have known what to say to this man, a man who so gallantly carried her when she’d fainted as if she were some delicate Southern belle with the vapors. But all that seemed to come from her mouth was inane chatter. She couldn’t seem to think straight. As a matter of fact, the only thought in her head was that she didn’t want him to go away believing she was a delicate little flower who needed a man’s protection. The fact that she’d lived most of her life just like that only spurred her determination to offer him a logical explanation.

      The only problem was, well, she didn’t exactly have one of those handy.

      “I wanted to explain,” she said, “about what happened at the door.”

      He shook his head, cutting off her words. “There’s no need,” he said. “I’m just glad you got the all-clear from your sister and from the EMTs.”

      “My sister is a pediatrician. I’m not a child.”

      “No,” he said. “Of course you’re not.”

      Something in his tone arrested her, but before Summer could decipher it or determine just why this man seemed to make her so—was it uncomfortable or just aware?—he’d hefted his bag and was headed to the door. He left a packet of materials on the foyer table next to a bouquet of flowers she’d cut from her garden just that morning. The cover design on the new resident’s packet, with a picture of a fire truck said: Welcome Home to Cedar Springs, North Carolina.

      As she watched him back the fire department’s sport utility vehicle out of her driveway, Summer didn’t feel welcomed, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was letting an opportunity slip away.

      Chapter Two

      At Manna, the Common Ground soup kitchen, Vanessa Gerard peered at the recipe Summer handed her.

      “Summer, I can’t cook. Honestly, I can’t. I burn water when I try to make a cup of tea.”

      “Vanessa, it’s easy. See, just five ingredients and they are all right here. The mise en place has already been done. And there are just four steps, easy peasy.”

      “The meeson what?”

      “It means all the ingredients are already prepped. So you don’t have to chop or measure anything. Just follow the steps on the recipe.”

      The brown-skinned woman with the long braids didn’t at all look reassured. “We’re supposed to be helping these people,” Vanessa said, “not giving them food poisoning.”

      Summer