Page 6 of Embers of You
Once I’ve noticed she isn’t shivering, I get to work on getting her keys out. It doesn’t take me long as I slip the slim-jim tool down into her door, and the lock gives easily. I open the door,and grab her keys, holding them out to her. Our hands graze as I hand them over.
“Thank you so much.” She hugs her keys to her chest.
“You’re welcome. I’ll give you my phone number in case you need help again.” It’s an excuse, and a pretty weak one, but I want some reason to talk to her more.
“Oh, um, that’s okay. I won’t do this again, I promise.”
Ouch.
“Well, how about you have it just to have it then?” I smile.
Sutton starts to remove my jacket from her shoulders. “Thank you for your help, but I’m not looking for anything right now.”
I stop her before the article of clothing has slid down her arms. “You’re not looking for friends in your new town?”
She looks at me skeptically. “I don’t think I could be friends with you.”
“Suit yourself.” I shrug. “I’m a great friend, you’ll see.”
I turn to head back toward the station to return the tools.
“Bye, Jameson,” I hear her call from behind me and it makes me smile.
“Bye, Sutton.” I don’t turn around as I give a small wave, knowing she still has my jacket, and that she doesn’t believe I’m going to keep trying to be her friend.
Yeah, sure. Just a friend.
CHAPTER 3
Sutton
“Shut up, Vern!”
I glance over to Jerry Lee who’s just squawked that phrase for the third time today. The first time I wasn’t sure if I heard him right. The second time I began to wonder if he was saying “Vern”. Now, the third time I’m definitely sure I’ve heard him right.
“Who’s Vern?” I call out to Trish who’s cleaning her station in the other room.
She walks in, making the Shih Tzu puppy on my table start to wag her tail aggressively in excitement. I hold on to her so she doesn’t end up flying off the table toward Trish.
“No idea. He’s said that since I got him.”
“Weird.”
Jerry Lee also barks. Yes. Barks. Like a dog.
That I’ve just assumed comes from living at a grooming salon, but it still doesn’t cease to amaze me, and I really want to see what else he can say.
“Oh, look at that, it must be truck washing day,” Trish says with a nod toward the window.
“What?” I ask, turning to see what she’s looking at, and then I see it.
“I told you about the view here, pretty nice, isn’t it?”
The firetruck is pulled out onto the driveway of the station, and jumping out of the front seat is none other than the man I met the other day when I locked my keys in my car.
Jameson.
I watch his large frame as he walks around the truck, along with four other people carrying various supplies. My eyes can’t leave him. No matter how much I tell myself to look away, to stop staring. I just can’t. He’s wearing a navy T-shirt that hugs his large arms, and the back has “AFD” on it, assumingely for Amity Fire Department.
