Free Ignite by Karen Erickson Page A

messy desk the last two days. Upon entering the office, she’d vowed to have the entire spot clean in two weeks, but Grandma only laughed. Other employees of the restaurant had bets on exactly how long it would take Harper to clean up “the inner sanctum”—and how long Harper would last at the BFD in general.
    Despite her reputation for being hardworking, no one had any faith in her. And that stung. Was it because to the outside world, it looked like she’d given up on Roger?
    Tilting her neck to one side, then the other, she heard the satisfying crack. She’d show every single one of them eventually. So maybe it would take a little longer than she originally planned. She wasn’t a quitter. Fine, she quit her relationship and her job, but she’d had no choice. If she hadn’t shaken up her life, she’d have been in for years of the same thing, over and over again. Talk about boring. Maybe cleaning out her grandmother’s office wasn’t exactly the answer, but it was a start. However small.
    She walked down the narrow hall past the bathrooms and the doorway to the kitchen until she was behind the diner’s long counter, where mostly regulars sat for their midafternoon cup of coffee and piece of pie. The BFD served only Rebecca Hill’s special homemade pie; it was famous throughout the region and both her lemon meringue and apple pies had won awards in the past.
    When her grandma informed Harper last night she’d need to learn the recipes before she retired, Harper had almost experienced a full-blown panic attack. She wasn’t much of a cook. And she definitely wasn’t good at baking. How was she expected to take over the pie-making duties?
    She smiled at old Lester Marcum, who nodded his greeting since his mouth was too stuffed with pie. Glancing around the restaurant, she spotted the group from Cal Fire, recognizing a few faces, though there was no Tate and he was the one who typically accompanied this particular group.
    â€œThere you are.”
    The familiar, deep warm voice came from directly behind her. She went still, closing her eyes briefly because she knew she looked an absolute mess and she didn’t want to see him like this: not a lick of makeup on; her hair in the sloppiest knot on top of her head barely held together with a pen; she wore a faded BFD T-shirt that was dirty from her rummaging around in her grandma’s dusty office; old denim shorts that were frayed at the hem; and beat-up white Converse that really weren’t white at all, more like a nondescript gray that came from many years of wear.
    Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and turned to face him, a firm smile on her face. She’d just pretend she was dressed up and looking gorgeous. Fake it until you make it. “Weston. Imagine running into you here.” She should’ve known he would’ve brought the fire crew to the diner.
    â€œI heard you were working at the BFD and had to see it for myself.” He grinned, ridiculously good-looking in his navy blue uniform. She tried to keep her gaze focused on his face and not blatantly check him out, but she couldn’t help herself.
    She blatantly checked him out. And liked every single thing she saw too. She’d never been one to fall for a guy in a uniform. Never thought much about a guy in full military dress or some sexy uniformed cop—Wren went through a stage a few years ago where she was hot for every young cop in uniform she saw. Didn’t help that her big brother had a swarm of various deputies for friends. They only fed her fantasy. But she got over it quick because Lane nipped it in the bud, saying none of his friends were worthy of dating her.
    There was nothing like a big brother to put a major damper on his sister’s not-so-secret fantasy.
    Right now though, Harper was considering all sorts of fantasies involving West in his uniform. She especially liked the thick black utility belt he