Page 10 of A Gift for her Festive Firefighter

“Look, Captain Pruitt…”

“Well, you have me at an obvious disadvantage…” the firefighter snapped hotly, tempers still flaring obviously as he looked at his truck and rolled his eyes, rubbing his forehead in frustration. A patrol car pulled up not a moment too soon, stepping out and looking at the two of them curiously.

“What do we have here, fellas?”

“Sherriff Hart, Captain Pruitt flew through the stop sign and hit Butter…”

“Are either of you hurt?”

“His eyesight!”

“Her brains!”

“Whoa now,” the sheriff began, fighting back a smile. “Look, obviously something happened, and we have two cars that are damaged. Luckily, we have no injuries…”

“Yet,” Holly grumbled – causing Cade to point at her while glaring at the sheriff like they were both children fighting over who was right and who was wrong.

“And tempers are high,” the sheriff continued over her. “Everyone needs to take a minute, breathe, and let’s work things out. I need to get a few bits of documentation, statements, and Beary – you think you can fix these, or do we need to get them towed all the way to New Braunfels?”

Holly hesitated, looking over the truck in the pale dawn light, and saw that the front bumper was damaged, but it could be beat out – just like the crumpled side panel. Yeah, it would take some time and work, but she could repair it.

“Hold up,” Cade said in a weird voice, reminding her of a rooster being strangled, causing both Holly and the sheriff to look back at him. His face had this scrunched, confused look on it as his eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re… Barry?”

“She’s our Beary,” the sheriff smiled. “Best mechanic there is in two counties, aren’t you, Beary?”

“I am,” Holly said bluntly, raising her chin a notch as she stared at the man like he was beneath her. “My name is Holly Beary – and most folks in this town call me ‘Beary.’ I have never once been called ‘Creature-Feature’ and then expected to repair a car.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

“Nope.”

“You’re the mechanic in town?”

“The same.”

“The one I needed to talk to about replacing the belt on my truck, fixing the leak, and doing the maintenance…?”

“Still her,” the sheriff chuckled, pointing between the two of them. “Have you two met yet? I feel like there’s more to this and…”

“You’re Barry? The same Barry… that has the hots for me? I thought Barry was a guy – and you’re just a greasy, tiny thing.”

That statement, combined with the dawning horror on the handsome captain’s face alone, was enough to deflate every inch of her soul – added with the sheriff’s laughter; yeah this was a morning she would never live down in a billion years. She could feel the heat in her cheeks, putting off enough warmth to fry an egg on her forehead.

“I do not have the hots for you…” she hissed, and to her horror, the man pressed his lips together and held up his hands, uncurling his fingers as he rattled off names.

“Jude, Rodney, Marshall, Jacob, Mayberry, Chief Marcum… shall I continue?”

“I heard about it too,” the sheriff whispered – and she glared at him, only to keep from looking at Cade Pruitt’s smug face. Did he have to be right, and that was why he was counting names off on his fingers, to prove a point?

“What’s this?” she sputtered, completely mortified, all of her defenses snapping to alert as she started mimicking him, uncurling her fingers like he’d done. “Hmm? Hmm? Are we counting brain cells or IQ points?”

“Now, Beary… flies and honey,” the sheriff chuckled, scribbling on his notepad. “Flies and honey, remember?”

“I don’t want to catch anything that has to do with that wretched man!”

“Her license plate says it all – anyone but her!”

“It’s BUTTER!” she snarled, every muscle seizing in her as she made two fists and her voice shook with intensity as she hollered at the irritating man. “My car’s name is Butter, and you’ve killed her.”

---