Page 121 of Smoke and Fire
Small disasters.
“Ah, no,” I said to Lizbeth. “Not that I’ve heard of, anyway.”
Lizbeth’s hopeful expression dropped into a frown.
“Huh. Did you ever get a hold of Jada?”
I wracked my brain to remember who she meant until I recalled the local doctor. Jada was a middle-aged woman that ran the clinic in town and trained horses on the side. A gentle woman with a dazzling smile and full lips. She always looked like a million bucks. Rumor had it her legendary gumbo could cure all ills.
“Ah . . .” I hedged to buy time. Lizbeth and Jada were bibliophiles and close friends. Lizbeth had offered to introduce me to Jada when I expressed an interest in becoming a nurse. Further research into the idea turned me away. Blood, guts, and squalling babies?
Not my thing.
My previous job as a manager of a hardware store lent me more to a paper-oriented career, not a bodily-fluids one.
“I sort of moved away from the medical field as a route for my next thing,” I finally managed. “A little too . . .”
“Gross?”
“That’s it.”
She laughed. “I agree. Jada’s also a horse trainer, too. If you wanted to look at that route.”
“Animals definitely appeal to me. I put a call into the local veterinarian office to see if I could shadow them for a day but haven’t heard back. Isn’t there a town attorney, too?”
“Kinoshi, yes. He’s brilliant.”
The sheepish feeling of being a bit too old to be doing this overcame me again. Most people ran through life options at seventeen, not twenty seven. Settling into a relationship with Jakob at twenty-two, then letting his life absorb me, is exactly why I was only a decade or so late.
Late, Inner Me said,is better than never.
“Truth.”
“What?” Lizbeth piped up.
“Oh, nothing,” I called, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Just about done.”
While slinging her frap together, my mind drifted back to Mr. Mysterious the hotshot, who’d stayed like a rock in the same position for ten minutes before he wolfed down his sandwich, slammed his computer shut, dropped twenty dollars, and left the shop with coffee in hand.
I definitely hadn’t thought about him while laying on my bed in the RV last night, the cool wind whispering through my hot trailer. Definitely didn’t smell smoke and think of him. Or mutter over how frustrating his silence had been.
Or accidentally juxtapose him over the top of the love interest in the second book, Rhashaad, so that I inadvertently spent all night thinking about Mr. Hotshot.
Okay, all that happened.
I’d never see him again, so why did he haunt me? No, that was probably a lie. I’d see him again, and that was the exact thought that made my heart flutter. He clearly lived here, at least for the summer. With the fire still building in the mountains, I’d probably see him soon enough.
Lizbeth sighed, looped her fingers over her belly, and then eyed me while I swept around the counter to deliver her drink. I wouldn’t give into her silent pressure to talk about Rodrigo or Rhashaad. No, I’d keep myself together and remain composed, the way any self-respecting woman would do. No waywould I simper and exclaim and lose all my self-respect over a romance novel. Mom would be so proud of me.
“So?” she drawled.
“SHE LOVES HIM!”
The words burst out of me as I melted bonelessly into the chair across from her, head in my hands.
Way to keep it cool,Inner Me muttered. I silenced her as Lizbeth tilted her head back and laughed.
“I knew it! You were suckered into the books!”
