“Good boy,” Ford said, reaching through two layers of clothing, withdrawing a doggie treat, and giving it to Pyro.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said with a shake of her head. “I might’ve left the cupcakes in a little too long, but I don’t understand how they caught fire. Or why the door wouldn’t open.”
Ford finished patting Pyro’s head and straightened. “It was set to self-clean mode. It turns the temperature way up and torches anything inside so later you can just wipe away the ash.”
The woman’s smoke-streaked face paled. “And if there are two giant tins of cupcake batter inside?”
“They boil over and start a fire.”
Her body sagged, and Ford lurched forward and gripped her shoulders, worried her knees might give out. Pyro pranced around her legs, glancing from Ford to the woman, awaiting orders on how to help.
“She’ll be okay,” he reassured his dog. “Just experiencing a bit of shock.”
She threw a hand over her face. “More like mortification and wishing the ground would open and swallow me whole.”
“Then Pyro and I would have to hack open the ground and come find you, and I think you’ll agree we’ve all had more than enough excitement for today.”
Her hand fell away as she tipped up her chin, and he got his first good look at her. Hair the same color he liked his coffee–one cream, two sugars; heart-shaped face streaked with gray and what he suspected were trails of mascara; and a slightly prominent nose that drew his attention to her irises, which were a deep shade of brown that almost melted into her dilated pupils.
He continued to gaze into the depths, searching for…he wasn’t even sure, but whatever it was, he was relatively certain he’d found it.
Pyro barked, awakening him from her spell. People were beginning to gather at the mouth of the alley, a mob of moths to a literal flame.
The woman ducked her head, a hand going up to shield the side of her face. “Oh, great. Why is the entire town showing up?”
“Probably saw the smoke, and if not, they heard or saw the firetruck. Not only is it giant and red with flashing lights, it comes out rarely enough to attract attention. Plus, there’s not a whole helluva lot to do in town. This here’ll probably make the front page of the paper.”
She groaned, and while he knew better than to say so, her disheveled appearance suggested she’d had as shitty of a day as she claimed. “I was trying to lay low.”
“Little tip: Uncertainty isn’t the place to hide out if you’re on the run. We also don’t do low-key very well.”
Her snort-laugh was part sob, but at least he’d teased out a hint of a smile. She stepped back, patting the messy bun on the top of her head and then frowning when she touched the section that stuck up like the red comb of a rooster.
With a huff, she let her arms flop down. “Thank you for your help…”
He extended a hand. “Ford. Ford McGuire.”
“How very James Bond of you with the introduction,” she said, slipping her small hand into his. As if he’d touched the end of a wire, a jolt coursed through his arm, and he had to force himself not to hold on past polite range.
A wet nose nudged the hand he’d dropped, and Ford patted his furry companion’s head. “And this is Pyro.”
Amusement flickered through her features, softening her exasperation and making him want to come up with more witty things to say. “A firefighter with a dog named Pyro?”
“I like to think I’m clever,” Ford said. “And you are…?”
“Violet!” Maisy pushed through the crowd, and the captivating firestarter in front of him dashed toward the woman who owned the bakery.
They collided in a hug, and the woman—Violet—began apologizing while Maisy asked if she was okay. There was also a comment about trying to do the safe thing and not start a fire before the conversation morphed into squeaky words he couldn’t decipher.
Easton approached, dressed in his police uniform. They nodded at each other, and Ford gave him a quick rundown. Given the hijinks they had pulled growing up, their friends often gave them shit about somehow ending up on the right side of the law. Having his buddy to help out on emergency jobs came in handy, and whenever they regaled the rest of the gang with their tales, they did the fishermen thing, their adventures growing larger with each retelling.
With Easton updated, they both fell silent, and Violet’s voice drifted above the din. “…not sure how I’ll afford it, but I’ll work on the nearest street corner to get you a new oven if this one is ruined.”
No stranger to exaggeration, Ford recognized the statement for what it was. The idea of the curvy Violet standing on the corner, however… Despite being on the up-and-up nowadays, he might not be able to refrain from swinging by.
Not that he’d ever had to pay for it, but it had been a long time, and… This just went down a weird path.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Maisy said, wrapping Violet in another hug. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”
“Yeah, but what if you’d been there? Or Isla?” Her voice pitched higher, panic coating the words. “Is she okay? Where is she?”
“She’s fine. Lottie, the woman who runs the craft store next door, is watching her while I get everything sorted out.”
“Okay, okay.” Violet wrung her hands together, and a fat tear tracked down her cheek.
Pressure grew underneath Ford’s ribs, his instinct to help kicking in, even though he’d never been very adept at dealing with female tears.
Pyro whimpered and glanced at him, silently asking how to console her. His dog had a better chance than Ford did, and at his nod, Pyro padded over and nudged her hand with his nose.
She let him sniff her before giving him a nice rubdown. “I forgot to thank you, didn’t I? You were trying to keep me safe, and I was too preoccupied to listen.”
Guess I should put my nose against her palm. See if she’ll run her fingers through my hair. He’d likely stick out his tongue and pant just like Pyro was doing. Later tonight, he and his dog were going to discuss how he’d done most of the work and Pyro still got the lion’s share of the attention.
A purple flash hit Ford right in the eye, and he squatted next to the tire of the firetruck and retrieved the… Yikes. Lexi’s wedding binder must’ve scared him more than he’d thought, because he swore this was similar to the one that’d been tossed on his coffee table. Only crumpled and speckled with fat flakes of black ash.
“Noooo,” Violet shrieked, taking a leap at him and yanking whatever it was out of his hands. She flattened the bundle of papers and the glittery purple cover to her chest.