Page 5 of Nanny for the Firefighter

“All right, who would be the owner of the sedan?” The man cocks a brow, and I step forward.

“That would be me. This lovely citizen hit me while he was tearing out of the gas station.”

Grumpy Truck Asshole practically growls, and the cop walks me farther away toward the side of the road a few feet away from my car.

“I’ll be getting your information, Boone, in just a moment. Don’t go nowhere.” The officer calls over his shoulder, and then he turns back to me. “All right, miss. I’m Officer Hogan. Gonna have the fireman there take a look at things. Can you tell me your name and what happened?”

“I’m Bridget Monroe. I just got back into town, and I was trying to get to my mother’s house. Mrs. Beverly Monroe. I wasdriving down the road here into town when I heard a loud truck revving, and just as I was passing by the exit, that truck came flying out of the place. He hit the back corner of my car and shoved me through the guard rail into that tree.”

I pointed, noticing the firefighter doing something around my engine.

“Welcome back to town, Bridget. I’m sure your mother is looking forward to seeing you. Well, we’ll have your car looked at and a tow called.”

Sighing, I relax a bit, even if everything about this is too public and too fresh. “Thank you.”

Officer Hogan nods, leaving me parked a bit away from my sedan while he goes to speak to Boone. I can’t hear much of their conversation, but I can see that Hogan is already agitated, and Boone looks downright livid.

After a second, Hogan raises his voice enough that I hear him say, “I can smell it coming off you from here.”

I bite back a laugh. I didn’t get close enough to Boone to notice, but I’m not surprised to hear that the guy who rear-ended me was under the influence. It’s the only thing that explains how hedidn’tsee me in front of him.

Clang!

I shoot my attention to my car in time to see another thick piece of metal from inside the engine area tumble to the ground. My ride is utterly fucked, and I sigh all the harder.

I do not have time for this.

Some type of compound has been sprayed in my engine block, however, and there’s nothing dripping from the bottom anymore.

As the hood is shut with a slam, I watch the fireman currently dealing with my nearly-explosive vehicle. His head of dark haircomes into view as he takes his protective helmet off, and I catch the sight of deep gray eyes that catch the light.

I’m a decent distance from the man, but my heart skids to a stop. I’d recognize him anywhere.

“Mason?” I mumble, my mind restarting only to go haywire.

I’m frozen in place, staring at the guy as he tends to my car, and then his eyes flick over to mine.

Oh, shit. No, no, no.

I look away, but it’s no use. Mason caught me staring, and now he’s walking over to where I stand. My heart is in my throat, pounding away like it’s actively trying to give me a coronary.

“Hello, miss. I assume this is your vehicle. I’m Mason. I volunteer as a firefighter, and I have to say, in my professional opinion, your sedan is fucked.”

The tension is too great to laugh, and then I force myself to look up at him. Our eyes meet, and Mason’s casual smile flickers.

“Bridget?”

Jesus, he didn’t know it was me.

I can hardly blame him, however. I’ve always had long blonde hair, but now, it’s chocolate brown and cut right to my shoulders.

“Hi, Mason.” I smile with my lips curled between my teeth. “Umm, yeah. The car is most definitely fucked.”

He only looks over at it for a second before meeting my stare again. Mason blinks before visibly shaking himself into focus.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you from over there. You, umm, you cut your hair. And it’s?—”

“Brown. Yeah.”

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