Page 34 of Nanny for the Firefighters
"Okay, let's see… what kind of ice cream do we have here?" I start rummaging through the freezer, mentally inventorying the contents. "Vanilla, chocolate… hmm… how about we try something special? Fruity ice cream!"
With a flourish, I pull out a basket of berries and stone fruit and lay them on the counter. I catch a flicker of impressed amusement in Marcus's eyes. He must be wondering where I even learned this stuff.
"Alright, Lily bear, what looks good? Raspberries? Peaches?" I hold each fruit out for her approval, and she babbles happily, reaching for the bright red raspberries.
Getting to work, I give the guys little tasks—washing, chopping, simple stuff. They seem more than happy to assist, even if their eyes never stray too far from Lily and me. It's a strange little tableau—a bunch of grown men, a sweet little girl, and a spontaneous ice cream-making-in-crisis operation.
The kitchen transforms into a hive of activity. The sweet smell of mashed fruit hangs in the air, mixing with the soft gurgle of Lily's laughter. It's a much-needed reprieve from the heavy atmosphere of the past few hours.
"Dis one! Dis one!" Lily squeals, pointing at the blender with a sticky finger. She loves watching the vibrant fruit blend into a smooth, velvety mixture.
I pour the sorbet-to-be into an ice cream maker, setting the timer with a grin. "Now, we wait a bit, munchkin. Patience is the magic ingredient, you know!"
We turn the waiting time into a game. I make silly faces, the guys join in, and soon, Lily's infectious giggles fill the room. Her little hands clap with delight, her eyes bright with the simple joy of the moment.
Finally, the timer dings. Scooping out the freshly-churned sorbet into bowls, I top them with a flourish of fresh berries. For a moment, it's as if we're a real family, gathered around the table in joyful chaos.
As Lily digs into her sorbet, smearing pink across her face, a warmth fills my chest. It isn't the perfect picture of domestic bliss, not by a long shot, but it feels pretty damn close.
Damn, what am I thinking?
Marcus leans against the counter, watching us with an unreadable expression. I offer him a small spoonful. "Quality control," I tease.
He raises an eyebrow but takes the bite. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips. "Not bad, Ella. Not bad at all."
The sweet tang of the sorbet, Lily's delighted squeals, and the shared comfort around the kitchen table… It feels surprisingly good. My eyes keep shifting to the men, catching flickers of warmth in Theo's smile as he teases Lily, or the soft chuckle Ethan gives when she enthusiastically smears sorbet on her nose. And Marcus, watching us both with that familiar intensity in his gaze.
There's an undeniable admiration in their eyes, a focus that goes beyond the simple act of cleaning up a messy kid and making impromptu sorbet. It's a kind of appreciation for the way I can step in, soothe Lily, turn this potential crisis into a moment of connection. I'd feel smug if it weren't for the warmth blooming in my chest, the quiet hum of pleasure that has nothing to do with pride.
I set down my spoon, pretending to wipe away imaginary crumbs, suddenly acutely aware of how I must look—hair pulled into a messy topknot, a smudge of raspberry probably somewhere on my face.
And there's a flicker, a thought that takes me by surprise. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was so convinced I'd never fall in love, so sure that contentment and companionship were all I needed, that I closed myself off to the possibility of something more. Something deeper, something like the way my heart seems to beat in time with what these men do to me.
The realization hits me like a rogue wave, unsettling and exhilarating. I hadn't expected this. The thought is quickly followed by a wave of panic.
This isn't the plan. Unbidden, a voice whispers in my head, It never is.
"So," I say, clearing my throat. My voice sounds harsh, forced. "What have you guys planned for the day?"
"We have to get to work," replies Theo, casting a small smile at me. "You good to hold the fort down?"
I am, I think to myself. The question is—how do I stop myself from falling? Maybe I need a distraction. Maybe it would help if I had a new target? I look into Lily's forest-soaked eyes and kiss her nose.
"What do you want to do now, darling? Wanna go for a walk?"
She offers me a tiny nod.
Oh. I blink rapidly as the realization materializes. I do have a target. A very promising one.
16
MARCUS
Afew weeks later
The morning at Station 23 kicks off with the familiar clang of the alarm, signaling the start of our drills. It's the kind of sound that sends a jolt of adrenaline through your system, waking you up better than any coffee ever could.
"Alright, team, let's move!" I shout, my voice cutting through the air with the authority of a battle-hardened leader. There's no hesitation, no fumbling—just the smooth, practiced precision that comes from years of working together. We hustle into the engine bay, where the day's drill is laid out, a simulated fire rescue scenario complete with smoke machines and obstacle courses.