Page 59 of Stay With Me

As Trina pulls the engine in and parks, one of the sweet girls in my class turns to her friend and says, “There’s a lady driving that fire truck. I didn’t know girls can drive fire trucks.” The elation in her voice is clear, and she’s practically bouncing when Trina and Charlie climb out of the engine. I smile to myself, and I’m filled with pride at my sister for breaking down traditional expectations and rocking it as a female firefighter.

Trina comes to stand in front of the kids and she’s in her dress uniform. When Charlie comes around from the passenger side, though, he’s in an Elladine Fire Department T-shirt, and those yellow pants with the suspenders—I think Trina said they’re called turnout gear—and he’s wearing his helmet. And, oh my, does it suit him. How those pants can look sexy, I don’t know. But Charlie Fitzgerald pulls it off big time. Not to mention his arm muscles are on display in that T-shirt and he definitely has book boyfriend arms.

Christine, standing between Linette and me, murmurs, “Well, slap my ass and pull my hair.” I practically choke on my saliva, letting out a little gasp as I turn to her. Linette just giggles and stares at Charlie.

“Jesus! Is there any man you won’t objectify, you perv?” Thank God, we’re standing back far enough from the kids that they didn’t hear her.

Christine shrugs, “Hey, I know what I like. But where have you been hiding this one? I haven’t seen him at any of your houses on book club nights and he is scrumptious.”

She’s not wrong.

“That’s because all our guy friends know to stay away when we have book club after that time you grabbed Jack’s ass.” My voice sounds scolding, but Christine knows I love her.

She sighs. “Ah, Jack. Now he’s hot.” She smiles and tilts her head, and I would swear that she’s remembering the feel of Jack’s butt cheek in her hand.

It’s actually a running joke among our guy friends—never be around when the ladies arrive for book club or risk being harassed by Christine. Her motto is that she’s in her fifties and a liberated woman, so she can do what she wants. We’ve yet to convince her that doesn’t mean grabbing the asses of unsuspecting men.

I shake my head at her and turn to look to at where Trina and Charlie are standing. Charlie has his gaze fixed on me, his smile to die for. I smile back and give him a little wave. When he winks at me in response, my lower belly flip-flops.

Get a hold of yourself.

Fortunately, I get the distraction I need when Trina introduces herself and Charlie as the program begins. These two do this program for us every year and the kids absolutely love it. My sister may appear a grump to those who don’t know her well—she’s not, she’s just guarded—but there is no evidence of that here. She’s delightful and engaging as she talks to the children, and the kids hang on every word she and Charlie say. Which is damn impressive when you consider how many kids are sitting here.

Trina tells the kids, in an age-appropriate manner, all about what a firefighter does, and then Charlie takes over with the fire safety portion. I can’t help but stare at him as he speaks. He walks around, making eye contact with the children, holding their attention. I know he’s passionate about this topic.

When it’s time for the children to ask questions, an adorable little girl sitting in the front row with pigtails and big ribbons in her hair raises her hand and Charlie calls on her. She looks at Trina when she asks her question.

“You’re a girl,” she says to Trina. Trina chuckles and nods. “Can any girl be a firefighter, or do you have to be special?”

Trina kneels before her and smiles. “Any girl can be anything they want. You don’t have to be special to be a firefighter, you just have to work hard.” God, my sister is so cool.

I watch the crowd of children and see smiles on the faces of many of the young girls, and I swear a few of them are sitting taller than they were a few minutes ago.

Trina and Charlie take a few more questions and take turns answering. One girl in my class raises her hand and Charlie calls on her.

“Are you married?” she asks him.

“I, um. I’m not. B-but I think it’s time?—”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” another girl asks, interrupting him. Charlie looks to Trina for help, but she’s just grinning.

Even from twenty feet back, the pink flush on his cheeks is visible, as is the fact that his eyes are as wide as golf-balls. I don’t miss when he quickly glances up at me and makes eye contact, holding my gaze for about two seconds.

Trina finally takes mercy on him and asks, “Are you all ready to take turns seeing inside the fire engine?”

Cheers and shout of assent fill the air. Charlie’s face visibly relaxes.

I’m watching him when Christine nudges me in the side with her elbow.

“What wasthat?” She’s smirking now.

“What?” I ask.

“How he looked at you when Sheila asked if he had a girlfriend. Are you holding out on us at book club? You know we all share the deets of our love lives.”

“Um, no, we don’tallshare. Not like you do anyway,” I tease her. “But seriously, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Charlie’s my friend. He was probably looking at me to rescue him.”

Christine tilts her head and raises both eyebrows, pursuing her lips before she turns and walks over to the engine where Trina is allowing the kids to take turns climbing in back. I stay back and observe. I’d be a liar if I said my attention doesn’t keep getting drawn to where Charlie is, as he kneels on the ground letting the kids try on his helmet and giving them a chance to hold the fire hose.

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