Nice Until Proven Naughty

♥ suspense romance ♥ firefighter hero ♥ army veteran ♥ protector ♥ single dad ♥ small town ♥ forbidden love ♥ found family ♥ age gap ♥ father’s best friend ♥ curvy woman ♥ BWWM ♥

Review quotes

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As a mechanic it was one of Stick’s duties to upkeep their equipment. The jaws of life had been acting up, and he was trying to figure out how to fix it. The hydraulic tool seemed to be jammed, and he suspected a minor blockage or misalignment in the mechanism. Stick was meticulous and methodical in his approach, traits that had served him well throughout his career. He laid out his tools with precision on the table, ensuring everything was within reach as he began disassembling the jaws of life.

While he worked, the station was filled with the usual banter and camaraderie that he had come to appreciate. The guys engaged in a lively discussion that ranged from Santa’s boots to weird Christmas traditions. Trent regaled everyone with a story about a family he knew that hung their Christmas tree upside down from the ceiling. The room erupted in laughter, the image of an inverted tree causing widespread amusement.

Brandon, the newest recruit, eagerly joined the conversation, describing his family’s tradition of a Christmas Eve costume party. “This year, I’m going as a cod,” he announced, eliciting a mixture of groans and chuckles from his colleagues.

Stick couldn’t help but scoff at the idea, drawing everyone’s attention. “Eh, don’t mind me,” he said, not wanting to dampen their spirits.

Brandon, however, was not deterred. “What weird Christmas traditions do you have?” he asked, his youthful curiosity evident.

Stick decided to let it slide. The kid was new, after all. “None,” he replied curtly, hoping that would be the end of it.

But Brandon persisted, “Come on! I’m sure that’s not true.” Stick sighed, feeling the weight of the conversation pulling him away from his work. “Well, the weirdest thing about Christmas is that I don’t do it.”

“Huh?” Brandon seemed confused, his enthusiasm dampened by Stick’s unexpected response.

Stick found the source of the problem with the jaws of life—a small piece of debris had lodged itself in the hydraulic line. With careful precision, he removed the blockage and reassembled the tool, testing it to ensure it was working properly. Satisfied with the repair, he set the jaws of life aside and looked up. That was when he noticed that Brandon still was waiting for an explanation.

“I. Don’t. Celebrate. Christmas,” he said, each word deliberate and final.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Brandon said, oddly enthusiastic. “You’re the first Jew I ever met.”

Neil started choking, trying to hold back laughter. Stick felt his temper rising. “There are many reasons why one wouldn’t celebrate Christmas. You’re right, being Jewish is one of them. But I am not Jewish. Another is having grown up in the system. And that system is not kind. Do you know my name?”

Brandon stuttered, “John?”

“Yes. John Doe. Cool name to give a foundling, eh? I never was wanted, always pushed around. I never got to believe in some benign old man who’d bring presents. The few years I got presents, it was socks and pajamas. So let’s just assume I missed that critical phase for imprinting the Christmas spirit in me.”

Stick stomped off, feeling like an ass. Here he was, a forty-two-year-old man, berating a newbie on the team for ignorance. Granted, Brandon was twenty-seven and should know better than to get on people’s nerves, but Stick was senior to him both in age and experience. Plus, Brandon wasn’t just a fellow firefighter, he was Stick’s employee, and step-son of Cornelius Washington, the chief of Elken Grove Fire & Rescue and a dear friend. Stick had no reason to feel good about the encounter.

When he passed the chief’s office, Neil beckoned him in.

“Hey,” Stick said, “That was not kind of me, and I will apologize. Is it okay if I do that tomorrow? Right now, my apology would be rougher than he deserves.”

“How come he’s had you all rattled?” Neil asked.

“Too much Christmas going on. I don’t like it.”

“Hmm.” Neil hesitated. “I had meant to invite you to our Christmas dinner.”

Stick jerked a little.

Neil explained, “I didn’t realize you hate Christmas all that much. It’s the first holiday since Lisa moved in and we will celebrate with her children. Abigail again probably won’t make it, and I could do with someone on my side.”

“Neil, I’m sure Grace and Meghan will bring their husbands and kids. Your table is full and—” Stick’s phone rang. He took it from his pocket and continued, “you don’t need me around.” The caller was unidentified. Stick waved goodbye as he left Neil’s office and answered the phone.

He didn’t get far. He stopped in his tracks, blocking the doorway, with the phone to his ear. Matt Sunderland laughed goodnaturedly, “You’re so old, you’ve got to stop walking to hear better?”

Stick looked at him blandly. “My hearing’s just fine, but this woman keeps saying I’ve got a son.” Talking into the phone, he said, “Can you please say that again. Start at the beginning.”

The woman on the other end of the line chuckled. “This is Child Protective Services from Albuquerque. I’m afraid your son’s mother just had a fatal car accident. When are you able to get him?”

Stick laughed. “Lady, you’ve got the wrong number.”

“John Doe, of 112 Mill Street, Elken Grove, Georgia?”

Stick closed his eyes. “That in fact is me. Still, I don’t have a child, and I’ve never been to Albuquerque.”

“Micaela Rolle?”

“Doesn’t ring a—hang on. Tall, black woman with pink glasses? We met in Las Vegas and had, uh, a nice weekend together. She never told me she got pregnant.” He scruffed his hair. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t give her my address.”

“But you are on the birth certificate and in her last will.”

“Wow.”

“Look, I know this is a lot right now, but there is only the grandmother, and she’s got cancer and cannot take care of the children, even for a short time. I’ve got to find a place for the kid to—”

“I’m coming.” “You’re sure you want this?”

“Look, I’ve grown up in the system myself. I know that you probably do your darnedest to find good places for the kids, and that although there might be good places, I’ve never seen one. No child of mine will be handed from foster family to foster family. I’m already on my way.”