Page 8 of Heat Stroke

Geez. It’s so hot.

If it’s this hot in June, what the hell is August going to be like?!

I don’t want to even think about it.

Crossing the street, I hum as I quickly try to get into the air-conditioned coolness of the meat market. I moan in appreciation as I open the door and the cold air inside scented with spices and various smoked meats welcomes me.

Mr. Lonnie, the owner, smiles at me as he greets me. He’s here every single day. If they’re open, he’s here. “Hey, Wren. It’s good to see you. Been a bit since I’ve seen you in here. What can I do for you today?”

I smile back at him. I also grew up with his son, so I’ve known him forever. “Hey, Mr. Lonnie. Yeah, they keep my busy over there. I wanted to personally walk on over today and take a little break.

“Can I get one of your delicious hamburgers with an order of fries? No tomatoes on the burger.”

He nods and puts the order in. After paying for it, we chat about what’s been going on around town while I wait for them to prepare my order. Foot-traffic is steady in the market, so I step to the side, smile, and talk to those I know as I wait. That’s small town living for you.

I see my burger and fries hit the window and my mouth starts watering in anticipation of the juicy, flavorful meat and the crisp, fresh fries. The chime on the door goes off as someone else comes in and Mr. Lonnie smiles at them as he grabs my food. He slips it into a brown paper bag as he greets the newcomer. “Hey, Blaze.” My spine straightens. Mr. Lonnie hands me my food. “You don’t be a stranger, Wren. That pretty face brightens up this place.”

Smiling back at him, I nod. “Yes, Sir. I’ll try to stop by more often.” Turning rigidly, I meet Blaze’s amused grin.

He says, “Hey, Wren.”

I can’t be rude in front of Mr. Lonnie and everyone else in here, so I tightly smile at him. His grin widens as I say with obvious false cheer, “Hello and goodbye, Blaze.”

As I power walk to the door, I hear Mr. Lonnie say, “Here you go, Blaze. Everything is bagged and ready. I know you’re busy. This going on your ticket?”

Blaze says that’s fine, and before I can clear the door, he calls out, “Wren, wait. Hold up a minute.”

I freeze with my hand on the door.

What? Why?

Turning slightly, I give him a questioning look. He’s got two hands full of bags and he nods to Mr. Lonnie and the kitchen. “Thanks, Mr. Lonnie. Gotta keep the crew fed and happy! See y’all later.”

Crossing the floor, he gets to me quicker than I expected. I’m still looking at him in exasperation. He lifts his stubbled chin at the door. “Can you open that for me?” He raises his full hands. “I don’t want to drop this.”

He stopped me from leaving so I could open the door for him?!

Exhaling quickly, I push past him and hold the door, over exaggerating my waving at him to go. He smiles at me as the door closes with a boom behind us. “Thanks, Wren. Appreciate that.”

I glare at him. “Seriously? You stopped me from leaving and getting back toworkso I could hold the door open for you? You could have opened it with your hip or your foot…”

My eyes trail over him. His arms are firm and veins are popping out as he wrangles the delicious smelling bags he’s holding. His red t-shirt with Carrington Construction written in navy across the chest is clinging to him in all the places women want men’s clothing to cling.

The tight sleeve stops a good bit above his elbow and I can see that his muscled arm has a half-sleeve of some sort of tribal tattoo. It only accentuates his Men’s Health worthy physique more.

My stomach flutters.

Damn. I mean… damn…

He’s so fit. But, that body is the body of a man who works for a living and not the product of weights at a gym.

I need to fan my face and chest.

Damn…

Stop it!

I realize he said something, but I don’t want to let him know that I’ve missed the entirety of it because I was too busy appreciating his masculinity… and wondering what the rest of that tattoo looks like.

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