Page 9 of Kissing the Beach Town Fire Chief
Ugh, this is going to be a long day.I mutter, reaching for my now cold coffee.
Eventually I’m halfway through my newly brewed second cup when my phone buzzes.
This time, it's a news alert about the elections. Curious, I open the article and see a headline about Ethan's campaign announcement. Skimming the article, I try not to roll my eyes at his lofty promises. “Improving the town’s infrastructure? Please. He can’t even keep his own yard intact,” I mutter, shaking my head. I save the article for later, thinking that knowing what he is promising might be helpful.
And I dive back into my research, I lose track of time as I compile information and brainstorm ideas. My desk is soon cluttered with notes, empty coffee cups, and half-eaten snacks.Mental note to self: clean up later.By the time I finally close mylaptop, I have a solid strategy in place and a list of tasks to tackle tomorrow.
I collapse onto the couch, feeling a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.
“Made some progress on the campaign front. Will fill you in tomorrow. Need sleep. And maybe a coffee detox,”I text Lyla to update her.
I finally sink into the comfort of my bed, ready to catch some well-deserved Z's, but then the sound of a guitar drifts through the air. Seriously? Now? I mean, I get it. The music is great, but not when it's invading my much-needed nap time.
I toss and turn, hoping the racket will stop, but it only seems to get louder.
Ugh, why does he have to play now? Doesn't he have anything better to do?
I groan and bury my head under the pillow, trying to drown out the noise, but it's useless. Looks like I'll have to add 'guitar smashing' to my to-do list.
Chapter four
Ethan
I strum the last chord of my favorite song, 'Bad Habits,' and the sound reverberates through my small living room. Playing guitar always helps me unwind after a long day and today was particularly taxing. I am just about to launch into another tune when there is a sudden, loud banging on my door.
I flinch, nearly dropping the guitar.Who the hell is that?Setting the guitar down I head to the door, irritation bubbling up inside me. The banging continues, relentless.
"Hold on, I am coming!" I shout, fumbling with the lock. I yank the door open to find Ami standing there, and she is furious … furious.
“Ethan! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snaps with hands on her hips.
“What does it look like I am doing? I am playing my guitar. It's called music.” “You're ruining my nap time! I can hear you from my house, crying out loud. Do you have any idea how loud you're playing?” she hollers, storming past me inside my house.
I close the door behind her.
“It’s not even that late, Ami. It’s barely eight o’clock. And last I checked, it’s my house, and I can play music if I want to.”
"I don't care if it's your house. I just got back from a long day at the bookstore, dealing with Aunt Maggie's new cat, and all I want is some peace and quiet. But no, I have to listen to you butchering 'Bad Habits.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t handle a little music.”
"A little music? Do you call that a little music? It sounds like a cat is dying over here!"
“Funny, considering I hear you were just dealing with a cat.”
“Don’t deflect, Ethan. Just turn it down, or better yet, stop altogether.”
“Why should I? Maybe if you weren’t so uptight, you would actually enjoy it.”
“Says the guy who schedules his day down to the minute.”
“Some of us have responsibilities, Ami. Not all of us can flit around town causing chaos.”
“Chaos? You think I am chaotic?”
I shrug, leaning against the doorframe.
“You’ve always been a bit of a hurricane, Ami. Blowing through everyone’s lives.”
