Page 68 of The Fireman and the Flirt

The current residents had been there a while judging by their older furniture and clutter that took over every flat surface. They had tried to clean up as best they could, organizing their mess and keeping it off the floor. It was a valiant effort, like when Jolene tried making me birthday pancakes as a little girl that was more of a soupy bread blob.

Flowery wallpaper lined the walls and the only sign of post-2000 life was a flat screen TV in the living room.

“It’s on the older side, but the house has great bones,” Cary said.

I believed him. An old house like this could double as a bomb shelter.

“And wallpaper can easily come off. I think a nice cream would open things up.” Cary wiped a sprinkling of dust off the sliver of coffee table not covered with magazines. They tried to arrange the magazines like a fan. Bless them.

“And despite the old look of this house, the HVAC and roof were replaced within the last five years. That will save you tens of thousands of dollars. Oh, I love this little nook.” Cary strummed his fingers on a breakfast nook with stools, the nook and stools covered in papers. “I told the agent repping the house to have his clients clean up, and this was the best they could do. But before you move in, I know a?—”

“Great cleaning service.” I knew all of Cary’s stock answers by now.

“They will make this place sparkle like brand new.”

I realized I wasn’t looking for brand new. I wasn’t a brand new kinda guy. Like with Cary’s body, I was enjoying all the imperfections that made it feel real. New houses were too sterile, trying too hard to blend in.

“There’s a stone fireplace, too,” I said.

“You don’t see those very often.”

I loved building fires in my old house. Listening to the crackling of the flames was my version of a relaxation bath. Jolene had introduced me to a fireplace YouTube channel, but it wasn’t the same. A real fireplace didn’t pause every few minutes for a commercial.

Maybe Cary and I could have sex in front of a roaring fire. Unless those dreams were long gone.

He wasn’t giving me much to go off of. Cary was all business, his back stiff and straight. He entered the kitchen and turned to me, a chasm of empty air between us.

“I know it’s a hard left from the houses we’d been seeing, but I think it’s very you. I think this is the first house I could see you in.”

“You said that about every house we’ve seen.”

“Well, it’s most apparent with this one.”

And this time, I had to agree with the man. I wished we hadn’t spent all that time in brand new sterile homes. Although, it was worth it for all the hooking up, something I’d never do with him here. People lived here. I didn’t want to risk wiping a come-drenched hand on their fanned out magazines.

“The bedrooms are down that hall. Now, there’s no en suite bathroom to the main bedroom, but since it’s just you and Jolene, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Cary said.

He pointed to the hall, essentially telling me it was a journey I’d have to do on my own.

I checked out the three bedrooms, only one of which had a bed in it. My parents might’ve had that floral comforter. The rooms were on the small side, the closets not as spacious, and yet they gave off a welcoming warmth.

“What do you think?” he asked when I returned to the living room.

“The bedrooms are smaller than I expected, but a small bedroom means I’ll sleep cozier.” I cracked a smile, hoping to see one from him in return. “That was a Caryism.”

“Good one.”

“Eh, it was a five out of ten.”

“No. It was at least a five point three.” There was that smile that I’d been missing. “Come check out this kitchen. It has great potential.”

“I believe you.”

“You’re going to take my word about one of the most important rooms in your house?”

I closed the space between us with my answer: a kiss. I pulled his body against mine. God, it was like I’d already forgotten how great he tasted, the perpetual hint of mint mixed with his warm breath.

“Derek.” He stepped back, sliding a rickety, unbalanced kitchen chair between us. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my client.”

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