Santa to the Rescue Read Free Page A

move.
    Now that he’d gotten settled, and had no reason to think he wouldn’t ace his three-month probationary term with the Appleton station, the time seemed right to start dating again. No one had caught his eye like Heather Longhurst. The possibility of forming a relationship with her gave him an adrenaline rush.
    Damn. Kitchen duty for the whole crew had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
    Jamey turned the radio on and cranked up the music. By the time he parked in the lot at the station, he found himself looking forward to Saturday and a batch of a beautiful woman’s chocolate chip cookies.
    “What do you know?” he muttered. “I think I’ve found the Christmas spirit.”
    Jamey strode into the kitchen with the bags of groceries. Some of the guys had gotten the pots and pans ready for him while he shopped for food. The men were starved; it had been a long shift. Paul started making toast, a teammate named Knox Bennett made another pot of coffee, and his partner, Frank Johnston, began cooking the bacon. Jamey worked on a big pan of scrambled eggs.
    The men ate like a pack of hungry wolves, and when every crumb and drop had been consumed, they all sat back in their folding chairs. The captain debriefed them on the warehouse fire and assessed their performances like a football coach reviewing a winning game. He rubbed his rounded belly, smiled, and stood. Meeting over.
    Or so Jamey thought.
    “One more thing before you guys clean up and head home,” the captain said. He stared at Jamey while he made the announcement, and the other guys snickered and traded elbow jabs like they knew what was coming. “Tucker, you have weekend and holiday duty until after the New Year, starting this Saturday.” The captain pointed to another junior member of the team. “You, too. Report back in forty-eight hours for your assignments.”
    Saturday. Jamey’s mouth and throat turned dry as desert air. In his mind’s eye, he watched his chances with Heather evaporate. The lightheartedness he’d felt a short time ago disappeared. He’d told her he’d definitely meet her at the hospital at one o’clock. He’d given his word. A man couldn’t go back on that.
    Jamey knew he was deeply and irrevocably screwed. If he called Heather to tell her he couldn’t make it on Saturday, she’d assume he wasn’t really interested. Texting her to cancel was out of the question. She might understand his predicament, but he’d disappoint her, nonetheless. When a man disappointed a woman right out of the gate, it didn’t bode well for his chances with her.
    His only options were to explain the situation in person, or tell her nothing, and hope he could get away to see her during his lunch break. The second option would be risky, especially if he had to handle an emergency. She’d have no way of knowing that he’d been scheduled to work that day or had been called away.
    His best choice was to ask to see her and explain why he couldn’t show up at her party.
    Hell. He’d been looking forward to that.
    When Jamey got back to his apartment for some much needed sleep, he pulled out his cell phone and gave Heather a call. Her phone went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Heather. This is James Tucker. Jamey. Would you like to meet for a cup of coffee tomorrow? I’m off duty. Give me a call to arrange a time and place.”
    Jamey closed the bedroom curtains and stripped off his tee shirt. In the mirror across from his bed, the Fire and Rescue Maltese Cross tattoo on his left bicep flexed with the movement. The yellow and orange flames surrounding the cross, and its interior helmet, seemed to glisten in the reflection.
    He ran his opposite hand over the tattoo, its ink still fresh, and wondered if Heather would like it. Assuming she even gave him a chance. The tat was the first thing he’d done to celebrate his full-time firefighter status. All his life, he’d never wanted to do anything else and knew he never would. The job gave him a deep