Inferno of Love:Firefighters of Long Valley Book 2

By: Erin Wright

Firefighters of Long Valley – Book 2

Chapter 1


Quick Note: If you enjoy Inferno of Love, be sure to check out my offer of a FREE Long Valley novella at the end.

With that, enjoy!

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April 2018

Tripp popped his head around her office door even as he gave a light rap on it. “Hey Georgia, there’s a handsome cowboy here to see you.”

“Thanks,” she said lightly, trying to ignore the warning bells going off in her head. If it was Levi, this was going to become real awkward, real quick. Not that Levi exactly came strolling into her office every day, but it was possible that he—

And then Moose came striding in instead. Georgia’s stomach did the amazing trick of both dropping to somewhere around her knee caps, while also rising up in her throat. She was going to be the first human on record with a bifurcated stomach. Awesome.

Moose. Of course it was Moose. Someone she’d known since they were in diapers, someone she’d graduated with from high school, and…the one guy she’d always wanted but could never have.

He was here to torture her with his cologne and muscular chest and mmhmmm thighs and…

“How are you?” she asked, planting a bright smile on her lips. She came around her desk to do the awkward hug/handshake combo that always left her feeling like she needed to bust out with, “And that’s what it’s all about!” when she was done.

Except she was the youngest branch manager in the history of the Goldfork Credit union  , and a female to boot. Busting out with the lyrics from the Hokey Pokey in her office (or anywhere, really) was not going to happen any time soon.

It was easy enough to stay professional and distant from older, crusty farmers who’d been tilling up the land since Moses came down from Mt. Sinai with his arms full of stone tablets. It was slightly harder to keep that demeanor up around Moose.

He flashed his mouth full of gorgeous, straight white teeth at her and said, “Good, good, but if the farmers don’t quit bitching about the water year that’s in the cards, I think I just might lose my ever-lovin’ mind.”

“I’ve been hearing that around town,” Georgia murmured. She wasn’t about to get into the politics of lending to farmers in what was projected to be a low-water year, not even with Moose.

“Well anyway, I don’t know if you’ve heard that the spaghetti feed and donkey basketball fundraiser is coming up quick, but the fire department is sending all of us out into the community to ask for donations to auction off. Do you have anything to add to the pile?”

“Oh. Hmmm…” She tapped her finger against her teeth as she thought. As the branch manager for the only credit union   in Sawyer, she got asked quite often about donations and prizes for local fundraisers, so they had their stack of branded t-shirts, pens, and notepads that they gave to anyone who asked. But with Moose giving her the “I’d love you forever if you gave me something great” look, it was hard to just brush him off with a pile of Goldfork t-shirts.

All right, so maybe he wasn’t actually giving her that look, and she was just projecting her own feelings onto him. That was totally a possibility…

One she was going to ignore, of course.

“Oh hey!” she exclaimed excitedly when inspiration struck, “what if we match a $50 deposit into a savings account – new or previously established – for anyone under the age of 18? Help a kid get started on saving for something important. Grandparents would love to give a gift like that to a grandchild.”

He sent her a huge smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners with happiness. Her stomach dropped further, hitting right around her shin bones.

This was starting to get ridiculous, really.

“I love it! Do you need to pass it by headquarters?”

“Nah, they give us some money every year to do community-minded stuff like this. If we end the year with money in that account, we get a talkin’ to about not donating enough to the local groups. Of course, that’s a pretty rare thing – usually we’re asked for more than we have the money for.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, Dad has the same thing happen, but he usually just gives away John Deere toys to auction off when he’s asked for donations.”

“‘Just’?” she echoed, one eyebrow raised. “I’ve seen the price tags on those toys. They don’t come cheap!”

“Nothing John Deere does comes cheap,” Moose agreed with a grin. “Quality all the way.” He flexed his muscles like a bodybuilder for a moment, and Georgia burst out laughing.

“I forget sometimes that your actual name is Deere,” she said dryly. “Your father is one dedicated John Deere dealership owner, you know that?”