Page 55 of Frosting and Flames

“Sure, I’ll text her.”

I go to my locker to get my phone, noting it’s already three-fifteen in the afternoon. She said she’s out of the bakery by three-thirty most days.

When I ask if she’s available, she texts that she’ll come over in about half an hour and thankfully has the notes in her purse.

I glance around, my first instinct to make the station presentable the way I did my own house, and immediately dismiss the idea. Chief runs a tight ship, and we all know not to leave any messes. Maybe that’s why I’m messier at home, since it’s so strict here.

Sure, let’s go with that.

I wish there was someone else here to distract me, but with Mark filling out the incident report and Chief in his office doing administrative stuff, that leaves me alone without a call to go on. With our station as small as it is, there are only two firefighters scheduled at a time to work each shift. Every quarter we switch partners, but right now I’m partnered with Mark, Henry is with Miguel, and Jamal and Daniel are paired up. Chief is outside the rotation and works a nine-to-five schedule on weekdays so he can keep an eye on all of us.

That all goes out the window when there’s an emergency that requires all hands on deck, but thankfully that doesn’t happen often.

I force myself to keep busy until Rachel arrives, checking hoses and organizing newly ordered gear until the moment I spot her. Something inside me clicks into place, the energy of the room shifting. She’s not doing anything special, merely looking around the station, but damn if the sight of her doesn’t make my day a whole lot better. She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt with the bakery logo on it, hair in some kind of messy bun on top of her head, face bare of makeup.

She’s absolutely gorgeous.

When she finally meets my gaze, she smiles in response, and there’s a corresponding tug deep in my chest. I don’t even try to fight the grin that spreads across my face.

I stride toward her, conscious of the way my pulse kicks up a notch, even as I attempt to keep my cool outwardly. If the other guys were at the station, they’d have a field day.

“Thanks for stopping by.”

“No problem.”

I want to hug her in greeting, to bend down and press my lips to her cheek, but I don’t know how she’d react.

Her gaze drops to my mouth for the briefest of seconds, so quick I’m not one-hundred percent sure I saw it, but before I can do anything about it, Chief is poking his head out of his office and inviting us inside.

Great timing.

Sitting in front of the fire chief’s desk isn’t nearly so intimidating this time with Rachel by my side, and I nearly laugh at the way Chief’s eyes widen imperceptibly when she pulls her multiple pages of notes out of her bag and spreads them out over his desk.

“I have a lot of ideas for this chili cookoff,” Rachel says, a hint of excitement in her voice. “I mean, we do,” she adds, gesturing between me and her.

I’m pretty sure he knows I’m only a bystander in this endeavor, but I appreciate her inclusion of me all the same.

“Well, let’s hear it,” he says, motioning for her to start.

She talks about the proposed timeline for the event and the equipment we’ll need, then moves on to her idea of tasting tickets if people want to try a bowl or cup of chili, or to get a pricier armband that will let them try everything. We’ll need judges to choose a winner—maybe someone from the town council will agree to help or a chef from a restaurant in town.Then there are the food handling permits that thankfully Chief says he’ll take care of.

“I have an in with the mayor,” he says. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Family friendly activities are next—guess that spice challenges for kids, hot pepper eating challenges for adults, face painting, fire truck tours, and cornhole and beanbag toss games are all approved by Chief, who’s looking more impressed by the minute.

He also loves her idea for raffling off the chance to be a firefighter for a day, as well as the bakery setting up a table to sell on-theme desserts like chili-chocolate brownies, cayenne-cocoa cupcakes with chili-cream cheese frosting, and Mexican hot chocolate.

“The only thing left on my list I’m not completely sure about is getting a live band,” she tells him. “It would liven up the atmosphere and make it seem like a real event, but I don’t know the logistics of setting something like that up here, or who in town would be willing to do it for free.”

“I can figure that out,” I offer, knowing I’ve contributed little to this conversation. “But I can’t help with finding a band.”

“My nephew’s in a band,” Chief says. “And they’re not half-bad, considering it’s a bunch of high schoolers messing around in my brother’s garage a few times a week.”

Rachel looks intrigued by the prospect. “Are they good enough for a community event like this?”

His lips twist in amusement. “How about I let you two be the judges of that? I’m a bit biased myself. But I can set up an audition for you to check them out if you want.”

Rachel turns to me for confirmation, and I shrug, figuring we have nothing to lose. “Sure, why not?”

---