Page 124 of Smoke and Fire
It’s in the past,Inner Me said.Where it belongs. Time to turn forward again.
“Right,” I muttered. “It happened. It was real.”
Now it’s time.
With a long breath out, I returned behind the counter and grabbedLove is a Terrible Nightmare.If nothing else was going to present itself for a drink, might as well dive back into Amy Grace and Rashaad.
THE BIG LUGof a wildland firefighter showed up later that day, computer under his arm like a hidden wing.
Such a small computer, against such a wide set of shoulders, created an odd juxtaposition. He stood at the counter with a frown that I had the feeling he didn’t know was there.
This time, he didn’t smell like smoke. More like soap. Man soap. The kind that smelled like good deodorant too, and made me want to walk closer to anyone with it. The kind that I’d sniff when I walked through the soap aisle, before I reminded my heart that it was still healing.
Which happened just yesterday.
“Is it okay if I stay for a while?” he asked. His voice had a raspy quality to it, and depth in the words. Seeing him sent a thrill through me, because all I could think about was powerful Rashaad.
“Definitely not,” I quipped.
He blinked.
I fought back a smile. This guy hadnoidea how to have a good time. “Just kidding.” I held out a hand. “Of course it’s okay. Do you want something to drink?”
His shoulders relaxed a little. “Same as yesterday.” He turned on his heel, but stopped to add over his shoulder. “Thanks.”
I tooksame as yesterdayto mean straight black coffee and a sandwich, so I set to work. My gaze wandered to where he sat. He glared at his computer screen with a furrowed brow again. Did he think it would open up and eat him? The intensity of his expression made me wonder.
I grabbed a mug that said,I’ll smack the grump off your face, and took it over steaming hot. He glanced up, saw me there, and kept my gaze.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Once I set it down, I paused.Gonna grab my arm again, big guy?Inner Me taunted. Because I definitely-kinda-sorta wanted him too. His eyes arrested those thoughts. Ocean blue. The sort of color that didn’t mess around. Nothing robin’s-egg about this shade of sapphire. No, this guy was oceanic. I sensed an old soul in those eyes.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Bastian.”
“Good to meet you. I’m Dahlia.”
I held out a hand. He paused for a moment to regard it—apparently, a barista had never introduced herself to him before—and eventually accepted. The warmth of his long fingers against mine felt like sliding on a hot-from-the-dryer-on-a-cold-day glove.
“Same.”
“The fire?” I nodded outside. “I’m assuming you and all those guys in the parking lot yesterday know something about it.”
“Not much.”
“Are you going to go fight it?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, you’re a barrel of helpful words.” The comment from Inner Me escaped before I could stop it. My eyes widened and I sealed my lips together in a thin line. The corner of his mouth twitched, which I took as either amusement or forgiveness. I flicked my fingers in a beckoning motion. “Give me something, brother. I don’t like fire. Imma water girl.”
He leaned back a little. A sliver of amusement appeared in his eyes. “The fire is north and winds are west.”
“Which means . . .?”
