Page 33 of The Fireman and the Flirt

“So three total?” Kathy asked, ready to update the order.

“No,” I said. “We’re separate.”

“No, we’re not. We’ll take three iced coffees. I’m paying.” Derek slapped down his credit card, letting me glimpse his strong, muscular forearm.

“He’s not. I can buy myself my own iced coffees.” I slapped my credit card over his. Watching our pieces of plastic touch sent an inappropriate vibe through me.

“It’s my treat,” he said, pushing his card forward to Kathy, who was confused by the whole situation.

“Will one of you pick a card, any card? I don’t have time for this,” she said, putting us in our place. She’d been on the clock since 1986, and her feet were tired.

“Let me,” Derek said, unleashing the full power of those sparkly eyes. I pulled back my card.

“Why are you so adamant on feeding my caffeine habit?” I asked. “And also, thank you.”

“It’s my way of apologizing.” Derek waited for Kathy to go down the counter to the coffee maker, out of earshot. “For what I said the other day.”

“We were joking around.” My neck went hot thinking about Derek’s probing questions in the bedroom with the too-large bed. It was the hottest house visit I’d ever led, and I couldn’t get it out of my head, despite how it had ended.

“I’m not talking about that part. I don’t regret that,” he said.

A man who had no shame about asking flirty questions? Hot.

“I mean the gearhead thing.”

Not hot.

The word made my blood run cold, as it always would until the end of time.

“Oh that?” I waved it off. “Just a stupid nickname.”

“It’s not.” He put his hand softly on my arm. “Cary, I’m sorry for using that name. I didn’t know the whole story and how it made your life hell. If I had, I never would’ve uttered it.”

He wouldn’t let go until I met his eyes. I hated that this story was still alive all these years later. That someone else could know something that personal about me before I could know anything about them. It put me on a forever unequal playing field with others.

“It’s in the past,” I said, wishing it were so.

“I thought I was being funny. I wound up being an asshole.” A tortured look crossed Derek’s face.

“You’re not an asshole.” It was impossible to be mad at Derek. This man could probably get me to walk on hot coals and broken glass if he so desired.

“To be honest, I thought the story was kind of cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yeah. Pretty bad ass that you put a whole gearshift in your mouth. It was kinda…” He trailed off, his thought dangling over me just out of reach. Kinda sexy? Kinda weird? Kinda freaky?

“If only our South Rock classmates felt the same way you did.” I sighed.

Kathy came back with the coffees in large, clear plastic cups. Three straws stuck up in the air. I unfolded a cardboard cup carrier I’d gotten from Starbucks a while back since Caroline’s didn’t provide their own. It allowed me to look like a normal person bringing coffee for a friend rather than a mocha java fiend who was double fisting. I put all three cups in my carrier.

“Thanks, Kathy. See you tomorrow.” I waved goodbye.

Derek followed behind onto the sidewalk. Flurries fluttered through the air. They weren’t the kind that stuck, but rather pretty flakes swirling around giving downtown more holiday ambiance. Derek plunked on his wool hat and zipped up his jacket, looking fuzzy and warm in both. The man was built to be Big Spoon.

“It was a stupid teenage thing. I’d like for it to stay in the past,” I said.

“It sounds like things were rough for you. I’m sorry.”

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