best friend—called. She was upset, again, over her boyfriend. I was talking her through yet another romantic crisis—I mean, it’s obvious he only wants in her pants so I’m not sure why she’s so shocked each and every time they’re alone and he tries something and then he gets mad and storms off when she says no.” She frowned at the firefighter. “Are all guys like that? Or is it just a teenage thing? Because most of my friends have the same problem.”
Shedding his jacket, the firefighter raised his eyebrows at that overload of information, but didn’t seem embarrassed by the question. “I’m going to respectfully decline to answer that.”
She sighed as if in resignation—or else she was simply taking in the firefighter in all his six-foot-plus glory. And what glory it was. Broad shoulders, narrow waist and biceps that proved the man spent a great deal of time in the gym.
“Fine.” Gracie shrugged. “I’m only trying to get some insight into the inner workings of the adolescent male brain.”
He grinned and yes, it was even more potent than Penelope would have imagined.
“Believe me,” he told Gracie. “The last place you want to go poking around is a teenage boy’s mind.”
“Amen,” Penelope muttered so fervently she wouldn’t have been surprised to see a choir of angels drift down from the heavens to sing it with her.
Then again, if she could see into Andrew’s head, she might have a better idea why he hated her so much.
Sending that devastating grin her way, the firefighter helped her sit.
“Anyway,” Gracie said, “I was telling Leighann she needed to dump him when there was this big boom—”
“It wasn’t that big—” Penelope interjected.
“It was! It shook the windows. I hung up on Leighann and hurried over. By the time I got here, Ms. Denning was awake but like, stunned. The grill wasn’t burning or anything so after I helped her inside, I shut it off and called 911.”
“Smart thinking,” the firefighter told her.
“When you have five brothers under the age of eight, you learn the ins and outs of fire safety. The twins especially are fascinated with anything that burns. Or explodes,” Gracie said, helping herself to another brownie. “Still, I was terrified I’d find poor Ms. Denning dead or in flames when I got here.”
Poor Ms. Denning?
Penelope shut her eyes. She’d been called many things in her life—smart, reserved, aloof. Cold. But never poor Penelope. Not when she’d been a child and had moved ten times before her fourteenth birthday, forced to attend a new school almost every year, always the new, awkward girl no one wanted to sit with at lunch. Not when her marriage had fallen apart and Todd had found comfort in the arms of another woman. Not even when her son was so sick that many people, including his doctors, feared he wouldn’t make it.
She wasn’t someone to be pitied.
“I’d offer you a brownie,” Gracie said to the firefighter, “but I can see you take your physical health very seriously and probably don’t eat sweets or junk food or anything that, you know, tastes good. How many hours a day do you work out?”
Penelope caught his gaze. “Make it stop,” she whispered. “For the love of God, make it all stop.”
His grin broadened and he knelt in front of her. “I take it you’re Ms. Denning?”
“Yes. Penelope Denning.” She’d gone back to her maiden name a few months ago when her ex-husband had remarried. She hadn’t felt right being Mrs. Freeman anymore. Not when another woman also claimed that title.
She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Montesano.”
A look of bemusement in his dark eyes, he shook her hand. His grasp was firm and warm. “You, too, Ms. Denning. And Leo is fine.”
She wondered if he was related to the people who ran Montesano Construction, a successful contracting firm in town. She assumed so, but hated to assume anything, and asking felt like prying. Small talk was part of the
Shedding his jacket, the firefighter raised his eyebrows at that overload of information, but didn’t seem embarrassed by the question. “I’m going to respectfully decline to answer that.”
She sighed as if in resignation—or else she was simply taking in the firefighter in all his six-foot-plus glory. And what glory it was. Broad shoulders, narrow waist and biceps that proved the man spent a great deal of time in the gym.
“Fine.” Gracie shrugged. “I’m only trying to get some insight into the inner workings of the adolescent male brain.”
He grinned and yes, it was even more potent than Penelope would have imagined.
“Believe me,” he told Gracie. “The last place you want to go poking around is a teenage boy’s mind.”
“Amen,” Penelope muttered so fervently she wouldn’t have been surprised to see a choir of angels drift down from the heavens to sing it with her.
Then again, if she could see into Andrew’s head, she might have a better idea why he hated her so much.
Sending that devastating grin her way, the firefighter helped her sit.
“Anyway,” Gracie said, “I was telling Leighann she needed to dump him when there was this big boom—”
“It wasn’t that big—” Penelope interjected.
“It was! It shook the windows. I hung up on Leighann and hurried over. By the time I got here, Ms. Denning was awake but like, stunned. The grill wasn’t burning or anything so after I helped her inside, I shut it off and called 911.”
“Smart thinking,” the firefighter told her.
“When you have five brothers under the age of eight, you learn the ins and outs of fire safety. The twins especially are fascinated with anything that burns. Or explodes,” Gracie said, helping herself to another brownie. “Still, I was terrified I’d find poor Ms. Denning dead or in flames when I got here.”
Poor Ms. Denning?
Penelope shut her eyes. She’d been called many things in her life—smart, reserved, aloof. Cold. But never poor Penelope. Not when she’d been a child and had moved ten times before her fourteenth birthday, forced to attend a new school almost every year, always the new, awkward girl no one wanted to sit with at lunch. Not when her marriage had fallen apart and Todd had found comfort in the arms of another woman. Not even when her son was so sick that many people, including his doctors, feared he wouldn’t make it.
She wasn’t someone to be pitied.
“I’d offer you a brownie,” Gracie said to the firefighter, “but I can see you take your physical health very seriously and probably don’t eat sweets or junk food or anything that, you know, tastes good. How many hours a day do you work out?”
Penelope caught his gaze. “Make it stop,” she whispered. “For the love of God, make it all stop.”
His grin broadened and he knelt in front of her. “I take it you’re Ms. Denning?”
“Yes. Penelope Denning.” She’d gone back to her maiden name a few months ago when her ex-husband had remarried. She hadn’t felt right being Mrs. Freeman anymore. Not when another woman also claimed that title.
She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Montesano.”
A look of bemusement in his dark eyes, he shook her hand. His grasp was firm and warm. “You, too, Ms. Denning. And Leo is fine.”
She wondered if he was related to the people who ran Montesano Construction, a successful contracting firm in town. She assumed so, but hated to assume anything, and asking felt like prying. Small talk was part of the
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