Page 6 of Falling for the Bad Boy Firefighter
Curious, I slide out from under the truck, wiping my hands on a rag as I stand. And freeze.
Penelope Clark stands in the doorway like she's wandered into the wrong building by mistake.
Her honey-blonde hair is pulled back in that perfect knot again, but there's something different about her today—a slight uncertainty in her posture, shadows under her eyes that makeup can't quite hide.
She's wearing another of her prim outfits, a soft blue dress with a cardigan that makes her look like she walked out of another decade. The dress hugs her generous curves, professionalbut unmistakably feminine in a way her carefully buttoned cardigans can't hide.
Our eyes lock across the room, and for a moment, everything else fades away. There's a connection there I can't explain—something raw and new that formed in the smoke and chaos of last night.
I'm suddenly, uncomfortably aware of the grease stains on my department t-shirt, the stubble I didn't bother to shave this morning.
Not that it matters what she thinks of me. It doesn't. It can't.
Clearing my throat, I break the silence. "Didn't know we were getting a visit from the Historical Society today."
My voice sounds rougher than I intended, the words coming out more like a challenge than the casual greeting I was aiming for. Penny takes a deliberate breath, her full chest rising with the effort, her shoulders squaring as if preparing for battle.
"I wanted to thank you," she says, loud enough for everyone to hear, though her eyes never leave mine.
That wasn't what I expected. Not from a Clark addressing a Walker in a room full of witnesses. I feel myself stiffen, suddenly wary of where this is going.
"You don't have to—" I begin, uncomfortable with gratitude I haven't earned.
"I do," she interrupts, lifting her chin in that stubborn way I'm starting to recognize, her round cheeks flushed with determination. "What you did last night... it was above and beyond."
The guys are watching us like we're some kind of daytime drama, and I can practically feel their curiosity radiating across the room. This isn't helping the rumors, not one bit.
I shift uncomfortably under the attention, my expression darkening. Being the center of attention in this town has never worked out well for me.
"Just doing my job," I say for the hundredth time today, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears. We both know going in alone for her wasn't protocol. We both know I broke the rules.
"Well," she says, a slight flush coloring her cheeks, "thank you, all the same."
An awkward silence follows, thick with unspoken words and the weight of decades of family history. I should say something—acknowledge her thanks and send her on her way.
That would be the smart move. The safe move.
Instead, I find myself asking, "How are you feeling? After the smoke inhalation?"
Something flickers in her eyes—surprise, maybe, that I'd ask. "I'm alright. The doctor said I was lucky." A small, hesitant smile touches her lips. "Thanks to you."
Wyatt coughs into his fist, the sound suspiciously like a laugh. I shoot him a warning glance before turning back to Penelope.
"That all you came here for?" I ask, knowing there must be more. People like her don't walk into firehouses full of men who've judged her family for generations just to say thank you.
She shifts slightly, fingers twisting the strap of her purse. "Actually," she says, voice dropping so that I have to step closer to hear her, "I need your help."
Now that's interesting. I fold my arms across my chest, studying her face. "That so?"
Penny glances around at the other firefighters, who aren't even pretending not to eavesdrop anymore. "Could we talk somewhere... private?"
The request raises eyebrows around the room. I can practically see the gossip forming in real time. But something in her expression—a vulnerability I haven't seen before—makes me nod.
"Chief," I call over my shoulder, "taking five."
Mason gives me a look that says this better not cause problems, but he nods his permission.
I lead Penelope outside to the small courtyard where we sometimes eat lunch when the weather's good. The morning sun is bright, illuminating the freckles across her nose I hadn't noticed before.
