An Unlikely Alliance by Rachel van Dyken

the
violent type. I'm outside, so it's easy to make an escape. I'm sure
not going to wait around. On the way home, I keep wondering about
Mr. Mystery Fireman. He looked so familiar. Do I know him? How does
he know my name? Our town of Nampa, Idaho isn't very large, we only
boast enough people for two high schools. Then again, he could have
easily gone to school somewhere in Boise or Meridian. But he was
definitely a Nampa fireman.
     
    ****
     
    Google is wonderful; which
could be construed as stalking, but my curiosity is eating me
alive. Yes! Found it, Nampa Firehouse, click.
    Oh be still my rapidly beating heart. They
have a calendar for a suggested donation of only ten dollars! Plus,
it's for charity! Who wouldn't buy the calendar? Of course, he's
Mr. December. Merry Christmas, Amanda. My strict Nazarene grandma
is probably rolling in her grave, not that I didn't give her enough
reasons to be in that grave while she was living. What with my
dancing and going to movies. She was a dear, sweet lady who I'm
thankful now, is with her Lord. I'm silently praying to God that He
is the only one who can actually hear my thoughts. Amen. And,
girls, if you can see this, A-M-E-N.
    You could do laundry on his abs. Is he
airbrushed? How can abs look this way? His chest is perfectly
chiseled, like God cut him out of a mountain. Those green eyes
aren't even his best feature. His hair is so thick and glossy, it
should have its own Facebook page, and I would easily be the number
one fan.
    I need to refocus. Where is his name? I
scroll down to the bottom of the page and see "staff". I click and
pray it will be the correct information. Moving down the page
again, I see his picture and click on it. They have stats right
next to the names. Wait. No. Well, I just almost swallowed my
tongue – didn't know it was possible, but here you see it
documented. It almost happened to a perfectly healthy twenty-seven
year old, and my parents would have found me in my apartment,
asphyxiated on the floor with my computer screen opened up to a hot
fireman. The shame would be unbearable. My poor parents would be
humiliated and have to lie to everyone about how they found me.
    There's no way it could actually be him. The
irony would be too perfect. I have to look closer to confirm my
eyes aren't deceiving me. With a sinking feeling, I remember him
when he had braces, ugly sweater vests, and too thick glasses.
    It's Preston, and the memories of egging his
house more than once during high school hit me full force. I
remember him holding my hand with those sweaty palms as he asked me
to prom in front of the entire school. Right now the only one with
sweaty palms is me! Oh, no. I turned him down. The sad part is, if
he'd ask me now, I'd say yes.
    At the time, it was more important for me to
look cool. So I said, in front of everyone, "Thanks, but I'm
already going with my cousin, Brad". I don't even have a cousin
named Brad. Just wait. It gets worse. He showed up at prom with his
sister, saw me dancing and kissing another guy, and, I'm sure,
assumed I probably wasn't that close with my family.
    Ladies, let this be a lesson. People always
say you need to be nice to nerds, because you might end up working
for them some day. The same goes for nerdy guys who ask you out.
You should be nice to them, because one day they might be smoking
hot.

Also by USA TODAY Bestselling Author Rachel
Van Dyken:
     

     

Prologue
     
    "It's a
girl, my lady! A fine girl!" the midwife exclaimed, holding out the
small bundle in her hands. It seemed nearly impossible she had
given birth to such a small and perfect little gift. Obviously, the
midwife wanted her to take possession of the child she had
laboriously brought into the world.
    Without
thought, she pulled the bundle to her chest and wept. The salty
tears slipped down her cheeks as she mourned all the love that
would be lost on her new baby and all the reasons she couldn't keep
her.
    "Take
her away from me!" Her shriek seemed to