Page 12 of Burnin' For You
Of course her kid sisters, Juliet and Isobel, had taken those skills and parlayed them into a thriving business—a bakery that kept the entire town of Ember in cupcakes, muffins, and designer wedding cakes.
If only they might have picked a different name, Gilly might be willing to occasionally take them up on their prodding to swoop in and help.
Hot Cakes.The last thing she wanted to be known as was “one of the girls down at Hot Cakes.”
No, thank you. She already had enough trouble keeping up her reputation as a fearless pilot, thanks to her less-than-fierce frame. Sort of like Mighty Mouse behind the controls.
She headed downstairs to her basement bedroom and shut the door.
“Gills—open up.” Juliet tapped on the door.
Gilly opened it a crack. “What?”
It simply wasn’t fair that her sisters nabbed all the good looks. Especially Juliet, with her curves, her long brown hair, those big hazel-green eyes. Isobel was a near clone but with blonde hair, hazel-brown eyes, and just a little shorter. Juliet and Belle were beautiful, smart, and sweet—the perfect pastor’s daughters, the kind that men most wanted for wives.
The only reason Juliet, at age twenty-five, hadn’t yet settled down was that she couldn’t make up her mind which fella to choose. As for Belle, she’d inherited the same hard-work genes Gilly had and spent most of her time perfecting her cake-decorating skills.
“Let’s go to the rodeo,” Juliet said.
Really? If she wouldn’t go to the rodeo with Jed and Kate, why would she even think of being seen there with Juliet, a walking magnet for male attention? Gilly opened the door the rest of the way and found her sister dressed in a patterned dress and a pair of black cowboy boots.
“Jules—” Gilly started.
“Aw, c’mon. I love rodeos. They’re so...tough guy. Besides, I heard a couple of your smokejumper friends were competing.” Her eyes glowed.
“My smokejumper friends? Juliet, you have a lineup of fresh hotshots every season. You don’t need my help to meet my”—she finger-quoted the words—“smokejumper friends.”
Juliet made a face. “Yeah, well, those hotshots aren’t here to stay. Besides, when I tell them I’m the preacher’s daughter, they run for the hills.”
Gilly laughed, although that never seemed to slow down the firefighters she had known.
“Fine. But please don’t embarrass me.” Gilly moved away from the door and Juliet came in to sit on her bed. Gilly shed her JCWF T-shirt and green Nomex pants—her uniform for the day—and grabbed a pair of faded jeans.
“Wear a dress,” Juliet said.
“What? Are you kidding? No.” Gilly jerked on the jeans. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for just a few of Juliet’s curves. “I don’t do dresses.”
“C’mon. Just because you run in a guy-dominated world doesn’t mean you’re a guy.” Juliet got up and went to Gilly’s closet, raked through it. Sighed. “I’ll be right back.”
Juliet exited and Gilly was left to stare in the mirror at her reflection. She’d never been the type to go in for the girly stuff—okay, well, once, a very long, ancient history time ago, she might have been the epitome of the word girl. A ballerina. But that all had changed one dark summer night.
Fast.
Forever.
And there was no going back. So she was left with this—a sunburned face that outlined white raccoon eyes from her aviator glasses, freckles across her tiny nose, unexciting lips, dark auburn hair that never cooperated, hence always the ponytail, and a body that felt most comfortable in a bomber jacket, jeans, and a baseball cap.
There was a reason she didn’t work for Hot Cakes, besides her pride. She simply wouldn’t fit in.
“Ta-dah!” Juliet returned, holding a dress, light blue with a lacy top and hem. “I bought it a few years ago, but it doesn’t fit me, and I was thinking...”
“What? No—are you kidding me? So—”
“Girly? Yep.” Juliet held it up to Gilly. “And if you think you’ll get cold, you can just add a denim shirt over it, tie it around your waist.”
“I’m not worried about getting cold, Jules—I need the shirt for modesty! This dress barely covers my backside.”
“That’s not true. Hold up your arms.”