Page 26 of The Fireman and the Flirt

Derek: Maybe a “dream house.”

I could see his sarcastic smile through the screen. Nevertheless, I would make him believe in dream houses.

Cary: Send me the listing!

Derek: I hearted it on the website, per your requests. I don’t want to break the rules. ??

Was I imagining things, or was Derek flirting? Just because a straight man felt comfortable enough to joke around with me and use emoji in his texts didn’t mean he was flirting.

I looked up the house on the website. No wacky interior design. Good location. It felt very Derek. Understated but sturdy and lots of character.

Cary: I love it! I’ll set up a time for us to visit. Are you around today?

Derek: Yep.

Cary: I may also sneak in two other houses that just came on the market.

Derek: Haha. Cool.

Was that a genuine haha or a humoring haha? I could earn a PhD with all the time I spent trying to decipher the meaning in text messages.

I shot off an email to the listing agent and a few seconds later, she replied with the green light to give Derek a tour. Good real estate agents checked their emails obsessively.

Cary: We’re in for this afternoon.

Derek: Can’t wait.

Was that a genuine can’t wait or a sarcastic one?

Derek beatme to the house. He leaned against his truck in a coat just open enough to reveal his Foo Fighters T-shirt, giving the house a smoldering stare. This guy had no idea how hot he was, which only made him hotter.

Get it under control, Cary.

Commission, not coming.

No flirting.

Do not go anywhere near the showers in this house.

“Salutations!” I said like a dork. I’d never said salutations before in my life. My mind was apparently working overtime to keep myself in check.

“Uh, hey.”

“You ready?”

“Let’s do it.” Derek put his hand on my back, once again in that exact spot that was on the border between “friendly” and “fuck me.”

This house was in far better shape than the Shrek palace. It had been decluttered and the walls painted a neutral off-white color. It made the rooms feel bigger and allowed homebuyers to better visualize their own style.

“Look at all this natural light coming into the living room,” I said as Derek made his way into the house. He took off his coat and hung it on a hook beside the front door. His beefy arms were on full display. I wanted to be suffocated by them.

Commission, not coming.

“They installed coat hooks. Great space saver!” I said.

He checked out the closets and studied the size of the hallways. I watched him go through a mental checklist. People tried to be analytical when searching for a house, but one hundred percent of the time, emotions were the deciding factor. Derek would be no different, but he had to discover that on his own.

“What do you think?” I caught up with him in the kitchen, which looked out on a neatly kept backyard with a pergola.

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