“You look pretty good to…” He caught himself. “There’s no guy out there. But your phone lines are down, so…”
So why didn’t he show up if he wasn’t able to reach her by phone? “Something bad must have happened. Maybe his car’s in a ditch or something.”
“I’ve been monitoring distress calls, and there’s only been one accident tonight, a thirty-eight-year-old woman taken to the hospital by our EMT crew. But, if you like, I could double-check with dispatch to see if anyone else called.”
“That’s kind of you, officer…firefighter…” She laughed lightly. “I don’t know what you’re called.”
“I’m just a probie, miss.”
“Probie?”
“Trainee on probation,” he explained. “Probie Joseph Mahoney.” He stretched his hand out and broke into a wide smile that nearly took her breath away. He couldn’t be too much older than she was. Big, cute, and…not Tim.
She shook his hand, getting a jolt of surprise by how lost her fingers felt in his. “I’m Colleen,” she said. “Colleen Kilcannon.”
“As Irish as I am,” he joked.
Irish, of course. It explained the black hair and stormy eyes.
“Just waiting for your prom date in the barn, huh?”
“On my dad’s orders. He decided that ruining my dress, hair, and makeup for the fanciest dance I’ve ever been to was somehow preferable to dying in a fire.”
“He’s right,” the young man said, all kinds of serious. “But nothing’s ruined.”
“It is if I don’t have a date,” she mused, looking past him. “Are you sure he’s not here?”
“Let’s go look.” He gestured toward the door just as the fire truck pulled out of the drive.
“Oh, um, Probie Mahoney? I think you missed your ride.”
“I came as a volunteer tonight,” he said. “I heard the call and drove over to see what I could do to help.”
“Okay. Come on, Murph. Let’s go.”
The dog stood and shook off and trotted behind them. As they crossed the driveway, Colleen noticed a little blue hatchback she didn’t recognize that must be Probie Mahoney’s. Her mother was standing on the front porch, hugging herself as she watched them approach.
“I’m worried about Tim,” Colleen called. “Can Dad drive me to the Williamsons’ to use their phone?”
“The fire captain said lines are down all over this side of the main road, lass. And your father isn’t leavin’ this house tonight. He’ll be workin’ on those wires until he’s certain all’s well.”
“Oh.” She let her shoulders fall, somehow knowing her father wouldn’t let her drive in this weather, even if the rain stopped. Roads could be washed out…which might explain Tim’s lateness.
“I can help,” the firefighter said, taking a few steps closer to the patio. “Can I take you to this boy’s house? We can make sure he’s okay and find out why he’s late?”
Colleen looked at her mother, who was sizing up the firefighter and considering the offer.
“’Tis kind of you, lad.” She looked at Colleen. “Would you want to do that? It isn’t like Tim to just not show.”
“Yes,” she said, turning to the man, instantly trusting him and grateful for the help. “He doesn’t live too far, just on the outskirts of Bitter Bark.”
“Let’s go.” He shouldered out of the heavy fire jacket, wearing regular clothes underneath. His white T-shirt and jeans made him suddenly look very young and far less official. And, whoa, very fit. “Once we find him, I’ll bring her back, Mrs. Kilcannon, or let you know that she’s safe. I promise.”
“Thank you, lad.”
A few minutes later, they were rounding the perimeter road and heading east toward town.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Colleen asked.
“I just moved here a few months ago when the training slot opened up at the fire department,” he said. “From New Jersey, right outside the Big Apple.”
“Oh, nice.” She nodded. “I thought I didn’t hear a Carolina accent.”
“I better get one, then,” he said. “Because I’m never leaving this place.”
“Really? I can’t wait to get out.”
“Why? Is there anywhere better?”
“Um…the whole world? Paris, Madrid, Morocco…Tokyo.” She gave each name the reverence they deserved, imagining the world map she had on her bedroom wall and the little pins she poked in each glorious city she planned to see.
“You can have those places. I like mountain air and small towns. This is home for me now.”
She smiled at the undercurrent of confidence that somehow made him even better-looking. “How old are you?” she asked.
“Nineteen. I graduated last year, top of my class.”
“And didn’t want to go to college?”
He shook his head slowly, not fazed by the question. “I’m going to be a firefighter,” he said. “I’ll train, get to lieutenant, upgrade to captain, then chief.”
That confidence again. “You already have your whole career planned?”
“Sure do,” he said. “I’m climbing the ladder.”
“Helpful as a firefighter.”
He grinned at her. “Funny. And you?”
“I’ll be climbing, too,” she said. “Thirty thousand feet, serving up cocktails and seeing the world.”
“Stewardess, huh?” He lifted his brows. “You’re sure pretty enough for it.”
She felt a smile pull as she studied his profile, which was as strong as the rest of him, suddenly a little mesmerized by this slightly cocky nineteen-year-old.
“Oh! It’s here!” she exclaimed, realizing she’d lost track of how close they were to Tim’s house. “Turn here and head down Blossom Hill Road.”
He did, both quiet as they pulled up to the brick house where Tim McIntosh lived with his parents, not seeing either of their cars in the driveway.
“Oh, I hope he didn’t get into an accident,” she said, pressing her fingers to her lips as that suddenly seemed very possible.
“I’d know,” Probie Mahoney said, gesturing to the walkie-talkie thing that had been crackling since they’d gotten in the car. “And we’d have passed him on the way if he got stuck headed to your farm. We didn’t see any flooding.”
“Well, I’ll go see if I can talk to his mom.” Hopefully she was there, because she’d met his dad only once, and she hadn’t gotten a good feeling from the mechanic everyone in town called Mac.
She climbed out of the car, vaguely aware that Probie Mahoney did, too. But he stayed standing in the driveway while she walked up three steps to the porch.
Before she knocked, the front door popped open, and sure enough, Mr. McIntosh had opened it, dressed in his work uniform with his shirttail out.
“He ain’t here,” the man said gruffly before she even asked a question.
“Oh, Mr. McIntosh. Tim never got to my house to take me to the prom,” she said. “And with the storm, I’m worried about him—”