Page 33 of Light My Fire Three Times
Maybe that’s why the steam rising in the air outside the station catches my attention.
There’s a coffee truck parked outside, blending in with the dusty, familiar backdrop of the fire station.
The place has been a barren wasteland when it comes to coffee for a good month or so now, and honestly? It’s been a bit of a tragedy.
I’m a man of simple pleasures, and a good cup of coffee is right at the top of my list.
I start to walk toward it, but the second my eyes fall on the little chalkboard sign, Espresso Love, my brain does this weird, slow-motion double-take. I stop dead in my tracks. There’s no way.
No. Freaking. Way.
It’s her.
Olivia.
The same woman who’d run out on me on Halloween, and I still can’t get her out of my head.
I swear, every time I close my eyes, I see her. That sharp tongue. The way she carried herself. And yeah, maybe I should’ve let it go.
I don’t exactly get all tangled up in others. But there’s something about her that has stuck with me.
And now here she is, standing in front of me, inside a coffee truck. Right by my workplace.
It’s weird. Walking into a dream, except it’s not a dream. It’s a hot mess of reality. One I am drawn to. I mean, she was only here for agoodtime, but now I’m thinking Miss Quinn might be here for a long time.
I can’t stop staring as she fiddles with something inside the truck, looking all businesslike and focused. But the second she turns around to hand over a coffee to the guy ahead of me, I freeze.
Her eyes meet mine, and I feel my heart jump into my throat, just as it used to when I was a friggin’ teenager. I can tell when Olivia is thinking, her face has gone a little… dark.
“Uh… hey.”
Smooth, Madden. Real smooth.
She just stands there, blinking at me. Maybe she thought she’d escaped our night together. I don’t blame her.
I tried to forget about her, but that’s hard to do when every time I hear a laugh or see someone storm out of a bar, I think about her.
“Hi,” she finally says, clearly trying to keep it cool, but I can tell by the twitch of her jaw she’s just as thrown as I am.
I’m not sure why I’m so thrown, though. It’s just a coffee truck. And it’s just Olivia Quinn.
“Coffee?” she asks, already reaching for the machine, in some autopilot mode.
She’s trying to act normal, ignoring the electric tension crackling between us.
I shake my head, clearing away the fog.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, stepping up to the counter. “Guess I’m lucky you’re here this morning. Been needing some good coffee. This place has been a ghost town when it comes to caffeine.”
She doesn’t laugh. In fact, she seems almost… nervous. I don’t know if it’s because I’m standing here or because I keep giving her that stupid, cocky grin I can’t seem to get rid of, but something’s off.
She presses a button on the machine, the steam rising from the spout as she makes my coffee. The sound of it feels way too loud. I can’t stop watching her. Watching the way she moves. Effortless, as if she was always meant to be here, running this truck, serving coffee to people who don’t deserve it.
“Guess you’re full of surprises, huh?” I try, because I need something, anything to break the weirdness between us.
Her lips twitch. A little hint of a smile, but not much. “I’ve got a lot of surprises, Karl.”
“I’ll bet,” I say, leaning on the counter, not even bothering to hide the way I’m watching her.
