Page 1 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
Chapter one
Kate
My son, Parker, is humming to himself in the passenger seat like we’re on some kind of road trip adventure, and I’m over here trying not to cry into the steering wheel. If I don’t get this job, we’ll be unpacking our lives in the backseat of my car.
Still, better that, than crawling back to my father with nothing but swallowed pride and a preschooler.
I’ll be explaining to my five-year-old why we’re sleeping under the stars tonight… and why we’re never, ever going back to Grandpa’s.
The minute I cut the engine in front of the shingled schoolhouse, my palms are slick with sweat.
Not from the late-summer heat, though the sun in Porthaven doesn’t believe in personal space, but because this is it. My one shot. No,my last shot.
The school is small but charming, with a picket fence kind of welcome and flowerbeds lining the walkway that give the appearance that they’re actually tended to. Parker hums in theseat beside me, legs swinging, face sticky from the gas station popsicle I bribed him with before the drive.
The quiet lot smells like hot pavement and fresh-cut grass. The cicadas hum a lazy chorus from the trees lining the playground fence.
Beside me, Parker’s feet continue to dangle off the passenger seat, swinging like he’s on some kind of vacation joyride instead of sitting beside his single, half-panicked mother, praying she can land a job on day one.
I exhale, trying to smooth my skirt and my nerves at the same time.
“You gonna be okay?” I ask, brushing my hands down my wrinkled skirt for the hundredth time.
He shrugs, seemingly indifferent. “Can I stay in the car and play with my dinosaur?”
I shake my head, squeezing his knee. “You can bring it inside, come on.”
The interview, while not long, stretches in my head like taffy. My voice wobbled through the first few questions. My resume felt like it belonged to a stranger, someone who should have taken the path laid out for her and never had doubts.
An Art History degree from Vanderbilt doesn’t exactly screamsmall-town elementary school teacher, but here I am, wearing shoes and clothes that I won’t be able to afford any longer. Hoping no one scrutinizes too closely at the gap between the girl I was supposed to be… and the one sitting here praying for a second chance.
But Lillian Monroe, the head of the school, smiled through every answer, her face warm and open in a way that made me forget, just for a second, how badly I needed this.
When it’s over, she asks me to wait while she talks to the board member across the hall.
Now I’m just… waiting. Waiting on the bench outside her office like a nervous teenager, praying her name doesn’t end up on the rejection list.
Inside, I can hear the faint clack of a keyboard, a phone buzzing once and being silenced. I resist the urge to poke my head through the open office door to see what’s happening. Instead, I bounce my heel anxiously against the wood floor and glance at Parker.
He’s sitting cross-legged on the bench, playing with his plastic dinosaur and humming to himself. His curls are damp from the heat, and his big brown eyes blink up at me like I’m the one acting strange. He catches my eye and grins.
“Why you bein’ all squirmy, Mama?” he asks. “You’re the best artist ever. They’d be dumb not to pick you.”
That little southern drawl of his softens every sharp edge in my heart.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks, sweetie, but sometimes people don’t see what you can do from a short conversation.”
He frowns. “But you showed ’em your pictures, right? Like the fish you painted for my bedroom and the one with the lady with all the colors on her dress?”
“I did,” I say, brushing his hair off his forehead. “But this is different. It’s not only about art. They need someone who can manage a class, help kids, work with teachers…”
“You already do all that. You helped me learn how to color inside the lines without even yellin’ once.”
My heart pinches, full and aching. “That’s true.”
Parker nods, completely certain in the way only five-year-olds can be. “You’re already the best teacher. They just don’t know it yet.”
God. How did I get lucky enough to have him?
