Page 1 of Bewitching the Firefighter

Chapter 1

Isla

“Thank you, Mrs. Denton.” I slide the hardcover books across the counter to the young mother before taking a library card from her young son. “Hi, Adam. Five books today?” The little boy nods, proud to be checking out his own books.

As I scan each of the boy’s books, a precious gleam shines in his eyes, reminding me why I love my job. I place his books on the lower counter so he can tuck them in his bag himself. The youth program here at the Cobalt County Public Library provides book bags and library cards, free of charge to children ages four to twelve.

Afterward, the mother and son walk hand-in-hand into the autumn air, and a feeling of peace at taking this new job settles over me. I wasn’t sure about moving here from Dallas, but both of my cousins live here in Indigo Hills and love the Texas Hill Country. After everything that happened with my job, I needed a change. I’m so glad I took the leap.

“Thinking about this weekend’s carnival date?” My co-worker, Daphne, wiggles her eyebrows at me, knowing that’s the last thing I want. She’s tall, gorgeous, and sexy without even trying. I’ve seen more single men come to this library than any I’ve ever worked in, but she’s all business with our patrons.

I bat at her shoulder. “You’re a bad influence.” I moved here to heal and work on myself. The last thing I need is to get involved with anyone. She just smiles and heads to the stacks with a cart of books.

A few minutes later, I’m helping a patron resolve an overdue fine when the shrill siren of our alarm pierces the air along with its pulsing strobe lights. Not again.

As the lead librarian, Daphne heads straight to the alarm box while a co-worker announces the evacuation to our patrons. We each have assigned spots during an alarm, so I assist with sweeping the children’s area, ensuring that all kids are with their adults and clearing the building.

Per our emergency protocol, I wait at the front doors for Daphne, and when she gives me the ‘all clear’ signal, all staff members meet at our designated meeting spot by the flagpole. Aaron, our IT guy, asks the question we’ve all been thinking. “Back restroom?”

Daphne rubs her temples. “Yes. Smelled like cotton candy.”

This is the second time since I started that someone has vaped in the back bathroom. The county is proposing an update to the fire alarms to make them vape-sensitive, but changing them out has to be cost-effective. I suspect it will take a few more times dispatching fire services before city council approves the measure.

The wail of the siren screams in the distance, so I know the fire department will be here in a matter of minutes. I’m just glad I hadn’t started work this morning on my my digitizing project for the Historic Society. Indigo Hills was settled in the 1800’s. The original settlers were families moving west, and a few of the original homes and buildings still stand. When some county workers found a box of photos and records from that era, the library was asked to digitize the files and make them available for checkout.

My subspecialty is historical records, and right before I moved here, I had spent a year authenticating and recording a set of old letters. When Daphne found that out, she hired me on the spot. The siren gets a little closer as I think about my previous job in Dallas, my stomach tightening. All it took was one professional conference and a speech where my boss took full credit for my work to make me leave the job I loved so much.

I had found those letters at a roadside antique store and took it on as a passion project. Of course, he approved it. As the audience congratulated my boss on his efforts, I realized why. Even though it’s been months and the sting of the betrayal has weakened, it’s not completely gone.

My cousin, Capri, reminds me that people are mostly good and not to let my old boss’s deceit ruin my love of the work. I’m trying.

A large red fire engine turns the corner, sirens bellowing, and pulls right in front of the library’s main entrance. With the lights still on, four firefighters climb out of the truck, one in full gear, three in turnout pants with suspenders over their department tees. My eyes are immediately drawn to the man in the middle, his black hair curled just over his ears, his dark brows furrowed in concentration. How his shoulders and biceps bulge without trying is a mystery.

Helmet in hand, the man in full gear scopes out the building, then approaches quickly, the other three remaining near the truck and grabbing equipment. “I’m Lieutenant Gentry. Is everyone out of the building?”

“Yes,” Daphne answers, all business.

He motions toward the building. “Did anyone see or smell smoke before evacuating?”

“No. But there was a cotton candy smell in the bathroom where the alarm originated.”

The incident commander nods his head, as he and two team members head toward the entrance with heat guns to scan the walls for hidden danger. The firefighter with the black hair catches my eye, his eyes golden and intense. I’m guessing he’s the engineer in charge of operating the the pumping gear, as he’s standing near section of truck where the hose is stored.

The man is gorgeous, his muscles full yet taut, the natural swagger in his movements letting everyone know he owns the space he’s in. As he talks on the radio, his eyes hold mine, his mouth a half-smile.

Daphne elbows me and whispers, “That’s Lincoln West.”

“How do you know him?” I keep my voice low, glancing at my coworkers. None of them are paying us any attention.

Daphne’s eyes light up like she’s got some juicy intel. Daphne knows a lot about the inner-workings of Indigo Hills.

“Every single woman within a fifty-mile radius knows who Lincoln West is. He’s one of Cobalt County’s most eligible bachelors. From what I hear, he’s never had a serious girlfriend.”

“Hmm.” I nod along as if interested, but I don’t need to know about this stranger’s dating history.

“I hear that won’t date girls in our town anymore because the last woman he dated kept showing up at the fire station unannounced.”

I’m not really sure what to do with that information. “So he had a stalker?”