Page 40 of The Fireman and the Flirt

Cary: Oh. You must be normal then.

Cary: At least I can say I’m doing research for my job.

Derek: Research…right…

I imagined him stretching out both of those words until they became growls in the back of his throat. I really had to stop fantasizing about my client. Since I couldn’t have Derek, I shoved a chocolate-chip cookie in my mouth instead.

Cary: It’s fun. OMG. Look at this listing. Look at those built-ins!

I sent him the listing price for an older house with gorgeous wood built-in shelves around the fireplace, and built-ins in an upstairs nook. It made me want to find the nearest independent bookstore and buy a bunch of books.

Cary: All houses should have nooks. Like English muffins.

Derek: LOL

Cary: Was that a real LOL?

Derek sent me a picture of him being stone-faced. The joke was on him since I got to look at his face.

I glanced up to find Harold and Maudrey staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Who are you flirting with?” Maudrey threw a pillow at me. How could she tell I was flirting? Was it written on my face?

“I’m not flirting. I’m showing a client some houses.”

“Texting with a client on Thanksgiving night? That’s dedication,” said Harold.

“Harold, you’ve been looking through Tinder all night, so you’re not one to talk. I’m surprised your thumb hasn’t cramped up yet,” I said. Harold was a personal trainer in Miami who spent more time working out than working with clients. This was the first Thanksgiving that he hadn’t brought home a girlfriend. Not like any of them had ever made it to St. Patrick’s Day. His type was twentysomethings with big boobs and small brains.

“Cary’s sexting someone,” said Harold, switching to lay on his stomach in full slumber party mode.

“Am not.”

“The bathroom in the basement has the best lighting for shirtless pics.”

“I don’t want to know how you know that, Harold,” said Maudrey. She was the smartie of the two of them, using her brains to get a job at a think tank in DC. She’d explained what she did several times before, but it truly went in one ear and out the other. I pictured her as Annette Bening inThe American Presidentand called it a day.

While we quickly devolved into silliness, we had a solid bond. They had been there for me when all the shit was going down with Gearhead.

I whipped off my blankets and stood up, the cool room temperature air sending a quick chill across my legs. “I’m getting some fresh air.”

“It’s freezing out!” cried Maudrey.

“It’ll be refreshing.”

I strutted through the living room to the front door. I stepped into the night air and threw my head back, awed by the constellations above me. It was prettier and more transfixing than any movie on cable.

I texted Derek a picture of my night sky.

Derek: Beautiful.

Derek: Jolene is turning me into an astronomy geek.

Cary: Better than being an astrology geek.

Derek: What’s the difference?

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