"You didn't say it was a bad idea," Driscoll pointed out. "And it most certainly is."
Patiently, Cole explained, "She wanted me to ask you in a fair and unbiased manner, so that's what I did."
"So you think this . . . this woman should be in the contests?"
Cole suppressed the-impulse to throw his hands in the air in disgust. Lieutenant Driscoll was his superior officer, after all. "No, I don't," he said. "But you don't know Miss Lowell, Lieutenant. She's a very . . . determined woman."
"But she's still a woman, and that's all that need be said." Driscoll turned back to the paperwork that was spread out in front of him on his desk. "Is that all?"
"Yes, sir," Cole said.
"I trust that you'll relay my decision to the young lady?"
"Yes, sir," Cole said grimly. He knew Annabel wasn't going to like it.
Still, he had kept his promise, so she couldn't be too angry with him, could she?
Hoping that would be the case, he left the corner of the room that served as Lieutenant Driscoll's office and went back over to join Patsy, who was polishing the brasswork on one of the Amoskeag steam pumpers parked inside the cavernous first floor of the firehouse.
The little Irishman began, "Lad, I'm tellin' ye—"
"I don't want to hear it," Cole stopped him. "Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it."
Patsy gave a dramatic sigh. "Ah, well, then, if ye don't want t' take advantage of me long years of experience with the fairer sex, sure and I can't force ye to listen."
Cole gritted his teeth together for a few seconds, then said, "All right, what is it?"
Patsy stopped polishing the brasswork and shook the rag at Cole. "Do ye like this young woman?"
"What? Of course I like her. If I didn't like her, I wouldn't have helped her when I saw her passed out on the ferry dock."
"Now, that's not true, and ye know it," Patsy said. "I've seen ye help some of the sorriest folks on God's green earth in the course o' doin' yer job. I've seen ye risk yer life for 'em."
"That's my job," Cole pointed out patiently, as if he were trying to explain something to a particularly dense child.
"No, 'tis the way ye are. If ye want proof o' that, just go look at yer bank account. Ye don't have to be a fireman, Cole. Ye do it because there's a part o' ye that naturally likes to help people."
Cole wasn't sure where this argument was going, but he was tired of it already. "All right," he said. "I'm the original Good Samaritan. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Just this." Patsy waggled a finger at him. "If Miss Annabel Lowell didn't mean anything to ye, ye could have helped her get on her feet and then walked away without ever lookin' back. That ain't the way it is, though, is it?"
"Well," Cole admitted, "no, I don't suppose it is."
"Ye've thought about her nearly ever' minute of ever' day since ye left her there at Missus Noone's. Am I right?"
Cole didn't want to, but his truthfulness compelled him to nod.
"Lad, I was raggin' ye earlier about bein' in love," Patsy said in a quiet, earnest voice, "but really and truly, ye have all the symptoms. So there's only one thing ye can do now."
"What's that?" Cole asked, interested in spite of himself.
"Ye have t' find out whether or not 'tis real."
"How do I do that?"
Patsy prodded Cole in the chest with a blunt finger for emphasis as he said, "The next time ye see the lass, take her in yer arms and give her the biggest kiss ye possibly can."
Cole snorted and said, "If I did that, she'd probably slap my face."
Patsy's bushy eyebrows danced up and down. "Ah, but what if she didn't?"
Cole frowned. His friend's suggestion sounded insane to him, but he had to admit that Patsy was known far and wide as a ladies' man despite his less-than-handsome looks. "Is that what you do when you're not sure how you feel' about a girl?" Cole asked.
"Aye," Patsy answered solemnly. "When I see a lass who catches me eye, I talk to her a bit, get to know her, an' then I lay the biggest, wettest smacker on her that I can."
"And they don't slap you?"
"Oh, sure, I'd say nine out o' ten do. Or worse." Patsy gestured toward his groin and grimaced slightly. "I've learned t' turn to the side quick-like after I buss 'em."
Cole shook his head. "I just don't understand. If it doesn't work nine out of ten times, then why should I try something so insane?"
"Because of the tenth time."
For a long moment, Cole didn't speak as he digested that. Then he said, "Oh."
"Some o' the best nights of me life have come after those tenth times," Patsy said. "I'm tellin' ye, it works."
"But we were talking about love, not. . . lust."
Patsy shrugged. "Sure and ye got t' start somewheres, don't ye?"