The Firefighter's Family Secret. Shirley Jump
the real reason he was here. “Sir, if you want my résumé—”
Harry put up a hand. “Let me stop you there, son. I don’t hire people based on a piece of paper. You and I both know how quickly paper disappears when you set it ablaze. I make my decisions based on the person, not their fancy-dancy credentials.”
“But surely you want to know if I have experience—”
Harry squinted in the sun. “Do you like fishing, Colton?”
The non sequitur made Colton stumble over a crack in the sidewalk. He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose and fell back into place beside Harry. “Uh, yes, sir.”
Harry nodded. “Good. Go home, grab a pole and meet me down at Ray Prescott’s place ’round three this afternoon. We’ll do the whole formal interview thing then.”
“While we’re fishing?”
Harry grinned. “It’s called multitasking, son. Now, if you ask my wife, she’ll tell you I can’t talk and breathe at the same time, and while that may be true, I sure as hell can talk and fish at the same time.” He gave Colton a little salute then strode off down the sidewalk toward the brick fire station.
Colton stared after him for a long time, then decided that if he wanted a job in Stone Gap—and he still wasn’t sure he did—then he should get a fishing pole. Not that Colton had gone fishing much. A few times with his uncle Tank, but that was about it. He’d been too busy trying to be the man of the family, a job thrust on him from the minute he could walk. Even now, even all these miles away from his mother and sister, he felt that mantle of responsibility. Of course, Katie was all grown up now, and their mother...well, she was what she liked to call “a work in progress.”
Which meant Colton shouldn’t feel bad about doing something for himself for once. Like going fishing.
Especially considering how much his life had changed in such a short period of time. A month ago he’d been working for the Atlanta FD, spending his free time working on his mother’s run-down car and urging his sister to take some time off, live a little, someplace other than the accounting firm where she spent a minimum of eighty hours a week. In return, Katie had needled him about being the quintessential bachelor, with an apartment as empty as a store going out of business. Sure, he had the occasional fling, but he wasn’t interested in serious relationships, and he made sure the women he dated knew it. He’d thought his life was more or less complete.
Then he found out that Uncle Tank—his real name was David, but no one ever called the barrel-chested, hearty man by anything other than Tank—whom Colton had always thought was just a family friend, was actually his real uncle, and that his biological father—a man his mother had never spoken about—lived in Stone Gap, along with the three sons he had raised. Robert Barlow had ignored Colton’s existence for thirty years, a fact that still stung, even though Colton told himself he was far too old to care whether he’d had a dad to teach him how to complete a layup or tell him how to win a girl’s heart.
But he did care. And working through the roller coaster of emotions that meeting his siblings and father had awakened was part of what had kept Colton here in Stone Gap. A saner man might have just turned his back on all of this and left town forever, but Colton had this need to know where he came from. His mother had called it his curiosity gene, the same need that had driven Colton to dismantle the dishwasher when he was eleven, and ask a thousand questions in every class he ever took.
Now he had a thousand and ten questions for Bobby Barlow, but Colton had hesitated to ask them. Had delayed seeing his father again, because Colton wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear the answers.
Nor was he so sure his father would want a relationship with him. Colton wasn’t the success that Mac was, the war hero Jack was or the second generation partner that Luke was. Sure, Colton was a firefighter, but he was barely hanging on to the job he had in Atlanta after the disaster that claimed two of his coworkers six months ago. A disaster that Colton could have avoided, if only he had tried harder.
The memory of that night had a way of stealing Colton’s breath when he least expected it. He’d catch a whiff of smoke or hear a crash, and he’d be there again, screaming into his mask for Willis and Foster. He’d see the burst of flame, hear the crack of the overhead beam, feel the heat crushing his gear. And see the yawning cavern that opened up like a hungry beast and swallowed the best men—and the best friends—Colton had ever known.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and willed the memory back into the shadows. It took a while, four deep breaths to be exact, but then he opened his eyes and reminded himself he was in Stone Gap, North Carolina, on a vacation of sorts. And about to go fishing.
Get it together, Barlow.
He jogged across Main Street, avoiding the lone car going south. He shook his head in amazement. Stone Gap wasn’t a hundredth as busy as Atlanta had been. That alone might be a nice change if he got offered a job at the department here.
If he even wanted to stay. Living in Stone Gap, becoming part of the fabric of the community, would mean being around his father on a regular basis. Dealing with all those questions that kept needling at his thoughts, the ones he wasn’t ready to face.
At the same time, it would mean having three brothers, three men who were the kind Colton had as friends back home. Three men he already genuinely liked. A lot.
He spied a familiar pair of legs sticking out from under the body of a Ford pickup truck at Gator’s Garage, the Barlow family business. Colton hesitated for a moment—this whole thing with his brothers was still so new, he wasn’t sure how to handle things like running into Luke downtown—then decided the only thing to do was to just go over there and say hello.
Colton ambled into the garage. He’d always liked garages, the smell of motor oil, the myriad tools, the puzzles of the cars that needed fixing. Gator’s used to be run by his father, until Bobby had knee-replacement surgery and needed to slow down. Now Luke was in charge, while Bobby worked part-time.
Colton took in the pegboards filled with tools, the tall red chests stuffed with parts, and imagined his father here, teaching Luke how to change the oil in a Chevy or rotate the tires on a Ford. The thought made Colton a little envious. Maybe getting to know Luke, Jack and Mac better would help ease some of those feelings. Colton looked down at the work boots below him. “Hey, Luke.”
Luke pushed out from under the car and grinned up at Colton. He had the same dark brown wavy hair and blue eyes as the rest of the Barlows, Colton included. Looking at his brothers was eerily like looking in the mirror. “Hey, Colt. Good to see you! Guess we didn’t scare you off, after all.”
“I’m not so easy to get rid of.” He chuckled. “Plus, I had an interview with Harry, the fire chief, so I figured I’d come back here and see it through.” Colton shrugged. “Not thinking it’s going to lead to anything, but it’s a shot. Might as well check it out.”
Luke nodded at that, then got to his feet, grabbed a rag and cleaned off his hands. “Glad to hear you’re staying a bit. You can help me torture Mac now that Jack is off on his honeymoon. But I have to warn you, Jack and I have a good routine going that keeps Mac at the center of a lot of merciless teasing. You gotta be on your toes to hang with us.”
Colton laughed. He liked the relationship the brothers had. Jack, a former soldier, was a good guy, solid and clearly head over heels for his new wife, Meri. Luke was the prankster of the family, though his heart was with his new fiancée, Peyton Reynolds, and their daughter Maddy, while Mac was the overachieving tycoon who had made millions in buying and selling companies, but had recently met and fallen in love with local girl Savannah Hillstrand.
“Sounds like a plan.” Colton shook his head. “I still have to get used to having all this family. It’s been just me, my sister and my mom for so long, and now all of a sudden, it’s like I’m tripping over Barlows.”
Luke chuckled. “We’re pretty much everywhere. Just ask the neighbors, who blamed every broken window and torn-up lawn on one of us.”
“Rightly