Page 8 of Falling for the Single Dad Firefighter

"Yes, Mia." Her name grounds me, reminds me of my responsibilities. "Don't forget to give her the star."

"I will." He collects the drawing from where he placed it on a nearby desk. "Thank you, Ms. Brown."

"Rebecca," I correct him softly. "The parents usually call me Rebecca."

"Rebecca," he repeats, and something about the way my name sounds in his voice makes my resolve waver. "Goodbye, then,"

"Goodbye, Samuel. I hope Mia feels better soon."

After he's gone, I sink into my chair, hands trembling slightly as I try to gather my scattered thoughts. The classroom feels different now—charged with possibilities I can't afford to consider.

I'm Mia's teacher. He's Mia's father. Whatever just happened—or almost happened—in the darkness of the storm cannot happen again.

I press my fingers to my temple where his touch still lingers, and try to convince myself that the pounding in my chest is just from the thunder, not from the memory of his nearness.

I almost believe it.

Almost.

Chapter 4 – Samuel

The diner on Main Street glows like a lighthouse against the darkening sky. The Fable—a Fox Ridge institution since before I was born, with its neon sign buzzing and windows fogged from the heat inside. After fourteen hours at the station, all I want is coffee strong enough to strip paint and whatever the meal of the day is.

Mia is with my mother tonight, a standing arrangement for my late shifts. Mom loves these grandmother nights, spoiling Mia with homemade cookies and bedtime stories I'm apparently "not dramatic enough" to tell properly. It gives me rare hours of solitude that I should be grateful for, but tonight I'm restless, my thoughts circling back to the same place they've been stuck since yesterday evening.

Rebecca Brown.

I've tried to push the memory away—her standing in the dim classroom, lightning illuminating her face, the soft texture of her hair as I tucked it behind her ear. A gesture too intimate for a parent-teacher interaction. A moment charged with something I haven't felt in years, something I have no business feeling for Mia's kindergarten teacher.

The bell above the door jingles as I step inside The Fable. The familiar scents of coffee, grilled onions, and apple pie wrap around me like an old blanket—comforting, unchanging. Judy, the night waitress who's worked here since I was in high school, raises her coffee pot in greeting.

"The usual, Sam?" she calls, already reaching for a mug.

"Please," I nod, scanning the half-empty diner for an available booth.

That's when I see her.

Rebecca sits alone in a corner booth, a book propped against the sugar dispenser, fork absently twirling pasta on her plate. Her curly hair is gathered in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She's changed from her teaching clothes into jeans and a soft-looking sweater the color of autumn leaves.

I should turn around. Find another place. Or take a seat at the counter.

Instead, I find myself walking toward her booth.

She glances up as my shadow falls across her table, surprise registering in her eyes before they warm with recognition.

"Samuel," she says, closing her book. "Hi."

"Rebecca." Her name still feels new on my tongue. "Sorry to interrupt your dinner."

"You're not interrupting," she assures me, gesturing to the empty seat across from her. "Please, join me. If you'd like to, I mean."

I slide into the booth, our knees almost touching underneath.

"How's Mia feeling?" she asks, genuine concern in her voice.

"Better. Just overtired, I think. The excitement of the first day caught up with her." I fiddle with the paper napkin dispenser. "She's with my mother tonight."

"That must be nice," Rebecca says, "having family nearby."

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