In Love With The Firefighter

CHAPTER TWO

NO MATTER HOW much fun the other guys were having, the accident was a dark cloud over Kevin’s day. He had no choice. He knew that. Kid not breathing, life or death. He couldn’t stop, and he couldn’t hit those teenagers on bikes. And who the heck had asked that red car to park right there in the street and leave the door open?

But still. He felt bad about it. The two-year-old lying on the sofa in the house where a panicked father had flagged them down was, technically, breathing. But he was unconscious due to a febrile seizure. It was the kind of thing Kevin had seen a number of times, but the child’s parents had not. And the terror in their eyes made Kevin wonder if he was ever brave enough to have children of his own.

But everything had worked out. The boy would recover once the hospital got his fever down. The damage to the front bumper of the ambulance was minimal. The department’s insurance agent had chalked it up to one more statistic, one more example of the 10 percent of emergency vehicles involved in scrapes and accidents every year. The chief had talked to him, and the write-up in his employee folder declared it not his fault, unavoidable. No disciplinary action assigned. The chief had even congratulated him on following the department’s mantra: life over property. No exceptions. Ever.

But he was never going to hear the end of it from his fellow public servants who were currently buying him drinks. They weren’t impressed by his life-saving defensive driving. They all did that kind of thing every day. The firefighters and cops leaning on the bar were raising their beers over the gritty details.

“Did the door actually get airborne or was it more of a twist-off?” Rick asked. He punctuated his question by twisting the cap off his beer with his bare hand.

Kevin’s cousin Tony slid a basket of fries down the counter to Kevin. “No air,” he declared. “Saw it all in the side mirror.”

Kevin stuffed a handful of fries in his mouth and hoped desperately for a kitchen fire. A false alarm. Anything to change the subject.

“Kev here had his eyes on the road, so I’m the one you should be asking,” Tony added. “Barely even felt it when the bumper tore off that door and dropped it right in front of the car. Like roadkill. Glass shattered to hell.” He paused and swigged his beer. “Great story for the Wall of Flame. Hope one of the hundreds of tourists who witnessed it got it on video. Maybe they’ll put it on social media.”

Kevin cringed. The Wall of Flame was likely to be misunderstood by normal people. People who were not in the business of responding to accidents, digging through gutted houses for the cause of the fire, and facing some of the truly lousy things that happen to people. Every day. The Wall of Flame was just a bulletin board with an attached shelf. It hung in the bunk room at the station, where they posted newspaper clippings, photographs, thank-you notes and the occasional artifact. It was a daily reminder of what they did, but its goofiness took the edge off the seriousness of the job. Department humor. It meant survival in a tough field.

Currently the wall had a picture of one of the lieutenants swearing in the newest firefighter, but the lower half of the new recruit’s body was a chubby baby wearing a diaper. A picture printed from the internet of Smokey Bear lighting a fat cigar was stapled in the upper corner. A before-and-after photo of the chief as a young recruit with hair, and the current bald version was tacked up next to a colorful photo of a training fire. The house was destroyed by fire on purpose, but the large caption drawn in marker said it all: Oops.

“This is not going on the Wall of Flame,” Kevin grumbled.

“My cousin drives the tow truck,” Ethan said. “He saved the side mirror of the door you took off. We’ll put it in the Stupid Tourist section of the board.”

Kevin groaned and shook his head.

Rick left his bar stool next to Kevin and headed for the restroom in the back of the restaurant. A gorgeous blonde slid onto the stool, an empty glass of wine in her hand. There was something oddly familiar about her.

“Moscato,” she said to the bartender, handing over the empty glass.

She swiveled and faced Kevin, her eyes the color of new plants in spring. He froze. There was definitely something about her.

She had the full attention of the men assembled at the bar, but she was only looking at Kevin.

“I’m Nicole Wheeler,” she said.

Could this be happening? Other guys attracted women, even used their badges and uniforms to negotiate themselves into a night in bed. But Kevin’s last girlfriend took off eighteen months ago, leaving him an ancient dog and no apologies.

Maybe his luck was changing.

“Kevin Ruggles,” he said. “You must be new in town. I’d remember you if we’d met before.”

“I’m definitely new. Just arrived this afternoon, in fact.”

Something in her tone signaled a warning, but Kevin forged ahead. She was sitting next to him at the bar, waiting for a drink. He should offer to buy. She was beautiful. Her fingers tapped on the bar, with no wedding ring in sight. What could go wrong?

“I’d like to personally welcome you to Cape Pursuit,” he said.

Her lips formed a cold line. “You already did.”

“Uh-oh,” Tony said.

Silence replaced the friendly banter at the bar. Kevin’s comrades in arms were sharks, waiting for blood they sensed was coming.

The bartender popped a cork and filled Nicole’s empty glass, taking his time. He stood still, also waiting.

Kevin felt heat rise up his neck and set his ears on fire. He had a better chance escaping a burning building alive than surviving the next thirty seconds.

He remembered. It was only a glance in the side mirror of the truck. A blonde woman standing in the street staring at the wreckage of her car. The wreckage he had caused.

“You don’t happen to own a small red car,” he said slowly. “Do you?”

“I do.” She sipped her wine, never taking her eyes off his.

“And...I almost hate to ask...but...is it missing a part? Maybe a door?”

“It is.”

The silence was how Kevin pictured people waiting tensely in the eye of a hurricane. Hunkered down, knowing the worst was coming, thinking perhaps they should have evacuated when they’d had the chance.

Where is that kitchen fire?

“I’d also like my mirror back,” she said, directing her words to Ethan. “So don’t bother to add it to your asinine tourist museum.”

She picked up her wine glass and returned to her table, only ten feet from the bar and easily within earshot. Close enough to make everyone uncomfortable.

Kevin sat on his bar stool like someone had soaked his pants in superglue. Even if she’d given him the chance to explain, what would he have said? Sorry, lady, but your car was in the way. Life over property.

But she had no use for him or his explanations. She’d made that clear.

* * *

JANE SMILED AND waved at the firefighters now silently holding on to their beer bottles as if they were lifelines.

She leaned forward and whispered to Nicole. “I think you ruined Testosterone Night.”

“I’ll cry myself to sleep tonight,” Nicole said quietly. “I know they’re your friends, but I just couldn’t sit here and listen to their bravado.”

“Don’t blame you a bit. They’ll live.” Jane grinned. “It’s good for them to get a reminder once in a while that not every female on earth finds them irresistible.”

Nicole regarded her friend, one eyebrow raised. “Have you ever dated any of them?”

“Not officially. I briefly dated a cop who left for the bigger department in Virginia Beach. Also dated a firefighter who was only here for the summer. Somehow I got little sister status with that group, so dating is off the table. Maybe I know too much about them.”

“Nothing going on between you and Charlie?”

Jane blew out a breath and sat back, crossing her arms. “Nothing I want to burden you with tonight. It’s a...well...it’s a story.”

Their burgers arrived, covered in barbecue sauce, cheese and bacon as promised. “To new beginnings,” Nicole said, clinking her nearly empty wine glass against Jane’s orange soda.

“Benvenuto,” Jane said, laughing. “See, I learned something in that Italian class we took when we were juniors.”

While they ate, the firefighters at the bar moved to a corner table closer to a flat-screen television. The baseball game was on, and the noise of the game and the bar patrons covered their conversation. Twice, Nicole’s glance strayed to the table in the corner. Both times Kevin was looking at her.

“I’m hoping you can do something about my computer now that you’re here. I think I need a new system,” Jane said. “Maybe I should put everything in the cloud.”

“I’ll look at it. You mostly place online orders for supplies, track expenses and print receipts for purchases, right?”

“Yes,” Jane said, nodding.

“And you don’t have any employees?”

“Nope. Just you.”

“Are you sure you actually need me?”

“I definitely do.”

When Jane had asked Nicole to move to Cape Pursuit, the timing had seemed too perfect. Just when the top layer of scars from her brother’s accident had scabbed over, the foolish office romance Nicole was involved in bubbled over and fizzled out.

It had been far better when she and her boss, Bryan, at the furniture plant were just flirting. Flirting has the potential for danger, but she told herself it was harmless. She ran his human resources department and online sales accounts, was flattered when he asked her to sit next to him at meetings and enjoyed an occasional lunch on his dime. It was a nice distraction.

Until they’d traveled for business and she ended up in his hotel room. The match was struck and burned hotly for about a week. Then it fizzled, and they both discovered there was no fuel left. The cold ashes remaining would make it impossible for her future with Bryan as a boss.

Jane happened to call to say hello at just the right time. Nicole told Jane about the big office mistake and the downward career spiral she was now being flushed along. And Jane begged Nicole to leave Indianapolis behind, swearing she needed someone with a head for business. Getting away from her work, Bryan, her memories, was such a tempting offer, Nicole couldn’t refuse.

But she’d worried every day in the weeks since—as she’d finished out her lease, given her notice and packed her things—that Jane was only being nice. Being a friend. That she didn’t need a business manager any more than Nicole needed another pair of shoes.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong,” Jane said, scrutinizing Nicole. “I really need your help. I have big plans to take my painting business to the internet. When the tourists are gone—nearly half the year—my sales are so dismal I can hardly pay the rent. I want to set up a website and sell online.”

“Really?” Nicole brightened.

“Yes. That’s where you come in. Since you’re also an excellent photographer, I’m hoping you’ll photograph and post my pieces on my website that doesn’t exist yet.”

Nicole felt a weight lift from her chest. “I could do that,” she said, energy infusing her voice.

“I’ve thought of selling my one-of-a-kind stuff online, but I also need your opinion about doing some stock or custom items. I just have to figure out exactly what people want. Market surveys, you think? You know about that.”

“I do,” Nicole said, thinking of the market research she’d conducted for the furniture company and how excited she’d been to share the results with her former boss. She’d been foolish enough to think that working extra hours for Bryan’s approval was some kind of honor.

Working for Jane would be better.

“And I don’t know if I’m opening a can of worms offering to do custom pieces,” Jane continued. “I’ve just done a few for close friends, but I’m worried about going online. People can be a real pain. They think they know what they want, but sometimes they only know it when they see it.”

“We’ll look into it, do a search and see what other artists like you are doing.”

Jane nodded and scooped the last fries out of the basket.

“I think I’ll start tomorrow by securing your web domain. I have to do a search and see if seajanepaint.com is taken,” Nicole said.

“What are the chances?”

“About as good as having the door of your car taken off by a fire truck,” Nicole said. She chuckled, the laughter scattering the tension from her neck and shoulders. For the first time in a long time, she felt free. Maybe this would work out.

When Jane and Nicole asked their waitress for the check at the end of their meal, she told them it had already been covered. “Tip, too,” she added, smiling.

Nicole looked at her friend, eyebrows raised.

“It wasn’t me,” she said. “Although I was planning to buy since you’ve had a tough day and I wanted to wine and dine my favorite new employee.”

Nicole risked a glance at the corner table where all eyes were on the television. Except for one stormy green pair. It was no mystery who had paid their tab, but Nicole wondered what had motivated the gesture. Guilt? Remorse?

She hadn’t seen any of that in the testosterone club at the bar.

“Least they could do,” Jane commented. “And don’t you dare think of going over there and saying thank you.”

“Believe me, that’s not what I was thinking,” Nicole commented. She picked up her purse and followed her friend from the bar, carefully resisting the urge to look at the back corner.

CHAPTER THREE

A PILE OF Nicole’s luggage took up a corner of the back room at Sea Jane Paint, hastily unloaded from the trunk of her damaged car before it got hauled away a few days earlier. When Nicole left Indianapolis, she had no definite plans, but she didn’t intend to go back anytime soon. Her summer clothes were already unpacked neatly into her closet and dresser drawer at Jane’s house. The winter clothes could stay in the heavy suitcase until at least October. If she was still there.

“We should be able to fit it all in my car after we close up today and we’ll get you permanently moved into my guest room,” Jane said, smiling at Nicole. “I hope you know I’m happy to have you stay as long as you want to.”

“Thanks,” Nicole said. She handed her friend a diet soda from the mini-fridge. “I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll meet your Realtor friend to look at a few places. Now that I’m actually here I think I could commit to something. At least a rental.” Nicole cracked open an orange soda. “Not that renting a place is much commitment.”

“I rent,” Jane said. “It’s nice not having to fix the roof or unclog the kitchen drain.”

“Did Charlie help you find the place?”

Nicole watched her friend’s expression when she mentioned him. She’d noticed a hint of something between them at the bar. Was it her imagination? Jane tapped the top of her aluminum can and then exchanged it for a bottle of water from the fridge, avoiding Nicole’s gaze the whole time.

“He did. He was one of the first people I met when I moved to Cape Pursuit five years ago. I had no idea at that time that I’d be renting a house and a running a gallery now.”

“To the future,” Nicole said, clinking her aluminum can against Jane’s bottle. “Whatever it may be.”

The front door opened and set off the chime, a foghorn sound that scared Nicole every time. It fit the nautical theme of the gallery and the tourists loved it, but to Nicole it sounded like a freighter about to run over a tiny boat. After the car door incident, she was jumpy about big loud things wreaking havoc on little ones. Too jumpy. There were a lot of things she was trying to get over. That was why she was here in Cape Pursuit.

“I’ll get it,” Nicole said. “You finish your lunch.”

She moved aside the filmy curtain that separated the back room from the gallery and store and stopped in her tracks. It was not a tourist at the door.

Dressed in a navy blue shirt and pants, a fire department insignia over the left side of his chest, Kevin Ruggles stood inside the door of Sea Jane Paint. He shifted from foot to foot, rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and glanced out the front window. Uncomfortable, she noted. He ought to be.

Her movement caught his attention and he strode toward her, closing the gap. He was tall, over six feet. Broad chest. A day’s growth of beard darkened his square jaw. His dark hair was tousled as if he’d been up all night. He was far more attractive than she wanted him to be, considering that his occupation put him on her do not touch list.

He stood in front of her as if he wanted to say something, an expectant look on his face. Maybe the guy was used to a hero’s welcome wherever he showed up, but Nicole wasn’t handing out any accolades. She waited, giving him no encouragement other than one raised eyebrow.

“I brought you this,” he finally said, holding out a plastic grocery bag. He smiled and tucked his chin, the gesture making him appear vulnerable. “It’s the side mirror of your car.”

He has no right to be so cute. He was about her age, but his demeanor was boyish, eager. Nicole took the bag and looked inside, heat creeping up her neck.

“I know it’s broken,” he said. “And your insurance company will replace it when they replace your door. But I feel better if it’s in your hands and not...”

“On the Wall of Flame?” she asked.

He nodded, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks. “Yes.”

“So you brought me this so you’d feel better?”

His flush deepened. He smiled and raised both eyebrows, a goofy, charming look that probably worked on women from his mother to his girlfriend. She glanced at his left hand. No ring, no tan line where a ring had recently been.

“The other guys were giving me all kinds of crap about it. I’m getting rid of the evidence.”

It should have annoyed her, his selfish reason for bringing her the mirror. But somehow his raw honesty was cute. Too cute.

She held the bag at arm’s length and dropped it in the garbage can by the cash register with a clunk. Kevin swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple at her eye level. His smile faded.

He took his dark sea green eyes off hers for a moment and glanced out the front window. He turned slightly so she could see what was behind him. An ugly brown pickup truck with its side window rolled down was parked in front of the gallery. A huge dent marred the bed of the truck. Two wide paws and a nose rested on the open window frame.

“Your dog?” she asked. It was her first attempt at friendly conversation. She’d have to be a marble statue not to at least ask about the paws and nose. They were adorable.

He nodded, a hint of smile returning. “Arnold. I worked last night and ended up staying over to cover the day shift until they got back from a call. Poor guy was lonely so I brought him with me.”

Nicole craned her neck and tried to look around Kevin’s very broad shoulders. The dog’s head was visible now, and he appeared to be a beagle attempting to climb out the window.

“He loves a car ride,” Kevin added.

“Does he ever jump out?”

Kevin laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh. “He tries. Never made it yet and he’s at least twelve years old.”

Nicole stepped to her right and saw the paws and nose disappear into the truck. “It looks like he gave up.”

Kevin nodded. “He’s probably tired. He doesn’t sleep well when I’m gone all night. Arnold’s a worrier. I think he knows I have a dangerous job.” Kevin took another glance at his truck. “Dogs are sensitive,” he added. “Or he wonders who’ll feed him if I die in a fire.”

The air left Nicole’s lungs, and her shoulders dropped. Of course he had a dangerous job. The same dangerous job that had killed her brother when he was only twenty-one. Robbed him of his future, stole happiness from her parents, her sister and herself. She swallowed. Goose bumps rose along her chilled back.

A breeze behind her told her Jane had swept the curtain aside.

“Shopping for a painting?” Jane asked, her tone chipper and businesslike.

Kevin glanced at Jane and returned his attention to Nicole with a forehead wrinkle. As if he realized he’d said the wrong thing but didn’t know what.

“Uh, no. I was bringing something over.” He gestured to Nicole, but she had nothing in her hands.

“What did you bring?” Jane asked.

Nicole looked at Kevin, eyebrows raised, wondering what he’d say. She knew Jane had heard the entire exchange through the thin curtain. Jane always had her back and had been on her side since they’d moved into their freshmen dorm in college.

Kevin crossed his arms and faced the two women. Just when Nicole expected him to flee, he surprised her and held out his right hand.

“Let’s start over,” he said. “I’m Kevin Ruggles. I grew up here in Cape Pursuit. I’ve been a firefighter for about six years and the worst mistake I’ve made on the job was two days ago when I crashed into your car.”

Shocked, Nicole held out her hand. He took it. His hand was large, warm, rough. But gentle. His touch made her want to withdraw her hand and run for the safety of the back room before he drew her in further than she wanted to go.

“And I really brought you that mirror,” he nodded toward the trash can, “so I’d have a good excuse to come by and say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I smashed your car and made your first day in town a lousy one. I’m very glad you weren’t in the car and I didn’t hurt you.”

His solemn expression, eyebrows drawn together, underscored his sincerity.

“I couldn’t live with that,” he added.

Nicole didn’t say anything. Didn’t encourage him to go on. But the heat returned to her face and ears.

“We got called to a kid not breathing and I was driving fast. Thought I could make it, but some tourists on bikes swerved into the street,” he said, not dropping her hand or taking his eyes off hers. “I couldn’t hit them.”

Nicole swallowed, pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. She needed a barrier. Something about Kevin made her want to forget the agony she felt every time she heard a siren or saw a fire truck. Every time she thought of her brother, perishing in the flames of a forest fire he’d thought he could outrun.

“What happened to the kid?” Jane asked, filling the silence.

“He’ll be okay,” he said, directing his words to Jane. “It wasn’t as bad as his parents thought, but things often look worse than they really are.”

Kevin turned back to Nicole, a sad smile on his face. “Anyway, I’m sorry about your car. And I hope you like it here.”

She nodded, acknowledging him. “Thank you,” she said, her words hollow.

Kevin pivoted and walked past watercolors propped on shiny easels. He opened the front door, setting off the foghorn, and got into his truck. Nicole heard his door shut and watched him put on his seat belt and pet his dog before he pulled away from the front curb. The dog sat up in the passenger seat and stuck his nose out the window.

“Since you weren’t making that easy for him, you should have asked him to let you drive his truck while your car’s in the shop,” Jane commented, grinning. “Would have been fun to see what he said.”

“It’s probably a stick shift,” Nicole said, disgust in her voice. “I never learned to drive one of those. He seems like the kind of man who would drive a standard. It’s all about the ego. And why should I have made that easy for him anyway?”

Jane shrugged. “Coming in here was a nice gesture. He wanted to explain himself.”

“He probably just felt guilty and wanted to make himself feel better,” Nicole huffed. She kicked the trash can for emphasis.

“You need lunch,” Jane said. “Go back and sit down, take your time.”

“I’m fine.”

Jane leaned one elbow on the glass counter. “If a garbage truck had taken out your car, would you feel better about it?”

“No.”

Jane nodded. “So if a sanitation worker came in here in his uniform exuding sweetness and vulnerability, and he told you a sad story about swerving the trash truck to miss a kitten and how sorry he was he’d knocked your car silly, you’d give him the cold shoulder.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Nicole said, a small grin turning up the corners of her mouth.

“But you see my point.”

Nicole sighed. “I hate the fire department.”

Jane gave her a hug. “I know. And you have a right. But you have to admit fire trucks are sexier than garbage trucks.”

“Everything is sexier than a garbage truck.” Her shoulders sagged and Nicole felt like crying. “I just thought I would get away and start over. And bam. First thing that happens is I get knocked on my butt by the same guys who took Adam from us.”

Jane held her friend by the shoulders. “Not the same guys. Different place. Different situation.”

Nicole bit her lip and focused on breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth.

“I know you,” Jane said. “When life knocks you down, you get up and dust yourself off.”

Nicole swallowed. “I’ll have some lunch and then get to work,” she said.

* * *

“UNCONDITIONAL LOVE, HUH, ARNOLD?” Kevin said, scratching his dog’s head between shifting gears on his aging F-150. “That’s what everyone says dogs are good for.”

Arnold scooted over and surrendered to the temptation of the open truck window, sticking his nose out.

“Fine,” Kevin said.

Arnold sneezed and the wind blew snot back into the truck.

“Maybe I should take you to live at the station. You could be the mascot.”

Kevin drove to the house he was currently painting on his days off from the station. An irregular schedule of twenty-four on, then thirty-six or twelve on gave him time to work in the sunshine on outside projects. Even if it meant sacrificing sleep.

Charlie Zimmerman stood in the driveway, holding a hammer. He walked up to Kevin’s open window as soon as the truck stopped.

“Just got the for-sale sign put up,” he said. “The house looks lousy now, but once you get it painted it’ll sell fast. Especially with summer coming up.”

The house was constructed exactly like the others on the street. Originally beach rentals, they were all one-story, wood-sided, with single-car garages and tiny front yards. Some of the houses had acquired character over the years with brightly painted walls, redesigned front entrances, creative landscaping. This house was like a wallflower cousin asked to the prom out of obligation. It needed color and life.

“Decide on the paint?” Kevin asked.

Charlie nodded. “Come see.”

Kevin got out, walked around the truck, and opened the passenger door for Arnold. He lifted the beagle down.

“He doesn’t get any better looking with age,” Charlie said.

“Neither do you.”

“So,” Charlie continued, ignoring the insult, “the homeowner thought white was the best choice because it’s a standard and it wouldn’t scare off any potential buyers. My office thought color would make this place pop. At least that’s what the ladies said. So we compromised.”

“How?” Kevin asked.

“White with green shutters.”

Charlie showed Kevin the buckets of paint stored in the garage, a swipe of color on each lid identifying the contents. The spring green shutter paint was a perfect match for Nicole’s eyes. Not that she liked what she saw out of those eyes, at least not when she was looking at him.

He’d blown it. He just didn’t know how, aside from the obvious business of wrecking her car.

“While you’re here, I wondered if you’d want to think about a little business venture with me. You’re a good painter and pretty handy with other stuff. And I’ve got the inside track on Cape Pursuit real estate.”

“No, I don’t want to buy and flip houses with you,” Kevin said, his tone implying they’d talked about this before.

“You’d make some dough.”

“I have enough money. And I’m taking classes this fall to get my fire science degree. So thanks, but no.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

Kevin unloaded a wooden ladder from the bed of his truck and set it next to the paint cans in the garage. He planned to go home and get a few hours’ sleep while the sun was hot and then come back in the evening and start in. The house was already pressure washed, the loose paint scraped off. Covering ugly wood with fresh paint was one of Kevin’s favorite things. It was just as satisfying as dousing a fire, but the paint lasted longer.

He’d been painting houses in Cape Pursuit since he was a teenager, and he remembered them all, always noticing them when he drove by and evaluating how well their paint was sticking.

“I thought I might see about getting Jane’s friend a place to rent,” Charlie said, helping unload painting supplies from the truck bed. Drop cloths, brushes, a bucket of paint thinner. “The blonde.”

Kevin felt heat under his collar. It was hot in the garage, but that wasn’t the only reason. “Did Jane mention how long her friend is staying?”

“Nicole,” Charlie said. “Jane implied Nicole was here to stay. Permanently. Making a big move of some kind.”

“Good for her. Nice place to live,” Kevin commented.

“That all you have to say?”

“At the moment.”

“She gave you a hard time at the restaurant. And nobody’s seen the mirror that was supposed to go on the wall at the station.”

“I think we should leave her alone. She’s new in town. She’s Jane’s best friend. Maybe she’s off-limits,” Kevin said. “Like Jane is,” he added, waiting for a reaction from Charlie. Everyone knew Charlie protected Jane as if she were a little sister.

Arnold bumped into a table in the crowded garage and knocked over a stepladder leaning on it. The ladder clattered to the floor and Arnold stared at it for a moment before lying down and putting his face on his paws.

“He’s going blind,” Kevin said. “It’s worse when he’s tired. We’re headed home for some sleep, but I’ll be back this evening to start in. If I get a coat of primer on before the sun goes down, I can start putting paint on tomorrow.”