Page 142 of Smoke and Fire
At least, that’s what I told myself.
9
DAHLIA
The air conditioner in my RV purred with a gentle hum as I sat down two days later, Bastian’s laptop in front of me.
It had been unusually busy at the Frolicking Moose yesterday—with three catering events, one of them almost dangerously overbooked—and late hours. Thanks to Bastian’s laissez-faire attitude, I put off diving into his emails for today, my day off, when I could focus. He would be leaving for his next fire assignment this morning, anyway.
When I didn’t work, I usually prowled around Alpine or stalked job listings on the internet with a question that circled me like cawing birds.
Who do you want to be without Jakob?
Today, it felt good to have a new purpose that didn’t rotate around massive life decisions and the analysis of my personality.
Not far away, bright green letters taunted me with the time. 11:37. The third Jess novel,Sex is a Guilty Mess,lay splayed open on the floor. I’d abandoned it in a fit of righteous indignation—and utter love—late last night.
I really needed more sleep.
After rolling out of bed, I grabbed a breakfast burrito, flung it into the microwave, and found Bastian’s backpack.
The rickety table where I ate had to be stabilized with folded cardboard, a prayer, and some duct tape, but I held onto hope it wouldn’t pitch his computer off.
A text message waited for me while his computer connected to the Wi-Fi.
Bastian:We were assigned to the fire north of Pineville.
I stared at the screen, startled and thrilled to hear from him after a brief exchange of messages last night. Still only half awake, I rubbed the heel of my hand over my eyes and struggled to make my vision work. The blurry words on the phone cleared enough for me to make sense of what he said on the second read-through. Likely, he texted me the update because it might come in handy later.
Somehow.
Did this have relevance to my job? Yes. At least enough that the text was justified. It meant that he’d be closer than not, but probably didn’t change the fact that he’d be largely unavailable.
Still, I was on the prowl for further signs of interest from him. Hungry for them, even, although I didn’t know why.
Would I do anything with interest from him?
No.
Yes, Inner Me whispered.
I rolled my eyes.
I just wanted the interest to be there to prove that it could be again. My five-year relationship with Jakob left a big gap between the last time I’d ventured into this dating world.
Had I fallen so far away from the dating world there was no retrieval for me? No. At least, I hoped not. Bastian having a return crush on me could confirm that. It was like . . . the security of a bookend. Pretty to look at, functional in its purpose, but not reallynecessary.
In other words, I wanted Bastian to like me but not necessarily do anything with it. Except kiss me. Maybe play with my hair. Tell me things he’d never tell anyone else.
The usual.
So ridiculous, Inner me muttered.No wonder women have a bad reputation.
I groaned.
“I like him so much,” I replied. Inner Me didn’t respond—she smugly felt no need to point out that she was correct. With concerted effort, I turned back to my phone.
Dahlia:Is that a good thing to be close to Pineville?
