“No.” Frankie smirked. “You didn’t.”
Interesting. “Chief Granger mentioned something about dispatching through our cell phones.”
“That’s for when we get calls when we’re already out of the station on another run.” She gave a quick nod, her gaze shifting to the phone she’d placed in one of the cup holders. “Otherwise it comes through the old-fashioned way.” She pointed up to the ceiling as if indicating speakers found in other rooms.
“Why not have an on-site dispatcher as backup?”
She didn’t break stride, not even when she pinned him with a look that, had she been Medusa, would have turned him to stone.
“Right. Budget cuts.”
“We aren’t Chicago. Or Boston. The needs of Butterfly Harbor don’t exactly fit any predictable pattern. In fact, predictability is the one thing in this job you will never have. Each day is an adventure. Would a dispatcher be great? Maybe. But we manage with what we have. The system that’s in place works well.”
Having exhausted his current list of questions, he begged off. “I’ll just head up to shower and change. Then I thought I might take a walk around town. Seeing as I don’t start until Monday.”
“Getting the lay of the land would be a good place to start. Butterfly Diner serves a great breakfast. Casual. Flutterby Dreams won’t be open until eight, but they’re your go-to if you want something a bit fancier.”
“Got a favorite breakfast?”
Her eyebrow arched in a way that told him she knew what he was doing; small talk was the best way to break through the ice of any situation. Or fledgling relationship. “At which place?”
“Either. Both.” Given he’d finished up his trail mix and protein bars for dinner last night, pretty much the only thing he’d eaten in the last week, he was ready for some actual food.
“Jason makes amazing lemon ricotta pancakes up at the Flutterby.”
“And the diner?”
“Good old-fashioned bacon and eggs. Home fries. Side of pancakes. And if you’re splurging, go with the handmade sourdough bread or a scone. Holly’s got a touch with those.”
“Sounds like I’ll be needing another workout after breakfast.” When Frankie didn’t respond, Roman headed for the door. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Great.”
Was it his imagination or had she picked up speed? Maybe pretending she could run him over on her elliptical?
“Frankie?”
“Uh-huh?” She was panting now, but she flicked him a glance.
“I’m sorry you lost out on the job.”
She flinched but didn’t break stride. Even from across the room, he saw her jaw tense. “Thanks.”
What else could he say? He supposed it could have gone worse. Before he took a wrong verbal turn, he grabbed his now-cold coffee and headed upstairs.
* * *
HER HOME AWAY from home had been invaded.
Frankie had known, even before she parked Dwayne, the oversize, fully supplied SUV, in front of the engine house, she’d find that her new boss had taken up residence in one of the mini apartments on the second floor.
Didn’t mean she had to like it.
The gossip mill, even for Butterfly Harbor, had spun into overdrive once word got out about their new fire chief. Only in a smalltown would people bring food over for the loss of a promotion. She’d spent a good chunk of her evening portioning out freezer meals, then packaging up containers to bring to the firehouse, where it was clear they wouldn’t have to cook for at least a week.
She knew what any rational person in her situation would do after losing out on the job they’d been counting on: they’d leave. Look for another job, a better job. There had to be other towns, some not too far away, in need of an experienced firefighter. It wouldn’t be a chief’s position, obviously, but she could start to make her way up the ladder again. Start over. And she might consider it if not for one thing.
None of those places would be Butterfly Harbor.
She turned off the TV and, using the remote she’d swiped on her way in, turned on the speakers and soon had classic rock booming through the entire first floor.
Frankie continued pumping away on the elliptical for another forty minutes, listening to the whining pipes and plodding footsteps overhead. When she heard Chief Salazar head back downstairs, she cranked up the volume, part of her hoping he would come in to complain so she’d have an excuse to snarl at him. No such luck. He left without another word.
Feeling suitably energized, Frankie brought the elliptical to a stop and, after turning the music down, changed to the calming tones of classical, the gentle sound of flutes and strings seeping into her warm bones. She ducked into the unisex bathroom just off the workout room, where she showered and changed, and was dragging her hair into its trademark ponytail when she heard the front door open again.