by Mia Moon
If I had any kind of luck at all, Birdie would be so embarrassed by my appearance that she’d never invite me anywhere again.
A silver lining to every cloud.
Chapter Two
I was on time, but Birdie’s party was in full swing when I walked through the door. The picnic tables were already jam-packed with dishes.
My self-consciousness rose as I wove through the crowd, balancing my plate of pre-packaged cookies. I’d bought the expensive boxed ones from the store bakery. They'd looked authentic under the store lights. But when I’d opened the package to arrange them, I’d discovered they reeked of preservatives and needed a chance to air out. So much for those "homemade" and "fresh" claims the package advertised.
I set my tragic plate down on the table between a dish of hand-dipped chocolate covered cherries and a comically large, fluffy white coconut cake. With that miserable task behind me, I turned to assess the party.
Most of the guests seemed to be parents who were watching their kids run around the yard. Alcohol was already flowing—bottles of beer and fruity cider peeked out from a washtub full of ice. Birdie’s husband was managing the grill. He hadn’t thrown anything on the racks yet, so the only smell it gave off was smoke.
I edged my way over to the washtub to grab the glass neck of a cider before looking around for a bottle opener. I hoped if I started drinking right away, I’d loosen up.
“Here, let me get that for you.” A low, warm, and wholly unfamiliar voice came from my left.
Before I could respond, someone plucked the bottle my bottle right out of my hands.
Golden Guy!
He seemed miles taller than me. I stared at him with my mouth hanging open like he was an exotic modern art exhibit. I couldn’t believe he was here in the flesh and blood. The firefighter was a real, living, breathing man who was even hotter up close than in passing. The Doors’ Light My Fire stupidly crooned in my head.
He noticed my surprise and grinned this nice, bright smile that lit up his whole handsome face. Deep laugh lines creased the corners of his mouth, suggesting he did it often. He popped the jagged cap off my bottle before handing it back to me. Heat crawled up my neck as his fingers grazed mine. I snapped my mouth closed, my entire face ablaze.
“You looked like you needed the help,” he said, by way of apology.
“I could’ve managed,” I said. I hated looking helpless. It made me feel like everyone could see inside my soul, straight to the nightmares I couldn’t escape. “I just got here, that’s all.”
“So did I,” he said, gaze shifting away. Likely searching for a way to extract himself from the palpable awkwardness that followed me everywhere. “I wasn’t sure I'd make it, but Birdie sold it with free food and—hey!” He interrupted himself, lifting his hand to hail over a newcomer. I took a step back, shrinking into the shadows. He already knew people here, and I wasn’t about to shoehorn myself into his plans.
The guy muscling his way through the crowd was crazy tall, broad, and insanely good-looking. His dark hair and onyx eyes identified him as the second firefighter I couldn’t stop staring at during my morning jogs. My theories were wrong—there was indeed more than one of them! I wished I could vanish to avoid the embarrassment of facing them both. It was only a matter of time before I’d do or say something stupid and reveal my social ineptitude. Sweat bloomed on the nape of my neck, and my lungs clenched.
“I lost you for a second,” the dark-haired man said to his companion. An easy, charming smile brightened his face when he turned to me. “You wouldn’t think I’d lose such a big guy in such a small place, would you? I’m Eric.”
Ooooh, they were a dangerous pair. What? I’m agoraphobic, not sexually unaware!
“And I’m Andrew,” Golden Guy butted in before he could be forgotten. “Guess I forgot to introduce myself.”
“You did, but that’s okay.” Laughter bubbled up my throat in spite of my anxious embarrassment. For a second there, Andrew seemed almost as awkward as I felt. “I’m Bree. I live next door.”
“We figured it was something like that,” Eric said, “considering you run by the station almost every day.” His grin took on a mischievous air, tugging even further on the corners of his mouth.
I couldn’t help it. I brought my hands up and buried my face in them. I wasn’t going to be able to show my face in any public setting ever again. These guys weren’t as oblivious to me as I’d thought. They probably believed I was an awful, sweaty, gawking stalker.
“It’s on my running route,” I muttered, muffled by my own hands.
“You would not believe the line for food,” another voice said.
I dragged my hands away, embarrassed beyond belief as I turned to welcome a new face—one I’d never seen before.
He strode toward our small group with confidence that indicated he was well-acquainted with both Eric and Andrew. “It’s like deviled eggs are going extinct.” He didn’t wait for an introduction when he spotted me. He was as stunning as his friends. What was going on at that fire station, anyway?
My stomach dropped when he smiled, lifting his free hand in a small wave. “Jonathan,” he said as if that were the answer to all my questions. “Don't I see you running past the station at, like, six in the morning?”
Oh, God.
I’d never spotted him, but it didn’t matter. I needed to bolt. The potential for total social disaster was too high. I prayed that an enormous sinkhole would develop right where we were standing. At least that would give me a decent reason to run screaming from this party.
When the earth betrayed me and didn’t come to my aid, I slapped on what I hoped was a normal smile and said, “That’s me. I knew I’d be famous for something one day.”
“Better to be famous for that than infamous for these,” Jonathan held up his plate. One of the chocolate chip cookies I’d brought teetered on the edge. “Obviously store-bought. Whoever brought them isn’t as clever as they think.”
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Kill. Me. Now.
“How tacky,” I said, trying to sound as not guilty as possible.
“Not everyone has time to prepare gourmet pastries,” Andrew said with an eye roll directed at Jonathan.
“Nor should everyone try,” Jonathan bit into the cookie and made a face.
I took a step back, thinking they’d talk to each other and I could finally slink away.
But Jonathan swallowed his bite and zeroed in on me again. “How do you know Birdie?”
I jerked my thumb in the direction of my house. “I was just telling your friends I live next door.”
Jonathan looked impressed. “Nice neighborhood. You and your husband must have settled here for the schools.”
I nearly choked on a sip of cider. Eric thumped my back as I coughed and sputtered.
They all stepped closer like they were ready to pounce on me and do CPR. Eric’s hand lingered on my back as I caught my breath. The warmth felt so…nice.
“Sorry,” I croaked. “I’m not married.”
The guys grinned simultaneously.
“Told you,” Eric said, removing his hand to jab Jonathan in the ribs.
“We had a debate one morning about your status,” Andrew explained.
“Hunh.” I sipped my cider again. It didn’t seem like I'd get an easy escape from the small talk, which was my least favorite thing about social interaction these days. I steeled myself and lobbed a softball question. “So how do you all know Birdie?”
“Her husband,” Andrew said, gesturing with his beer in the direction of the grill.
“Oh, right! Duh. He works for the city. City manager, or something.” It was all coming together.
“Yep, he does our budgets,” Andrew said. “He’s been cool with us, and with equipment requests for our station. He and Birdie brought their son over once to see the trucks, and we started hanging out.”
“Gotcha,” I said, nodding. Everyone but me was part of the social fabric of the community. I was a loose
thread. “Well, that’s interesting. Being firefighters. Exciting.”
Well, wasn’t I showing off my conversational skills? Jesus. I almost rolled my eyes right there. I once interviewed people for a living, in person. How could I be so bad at this?
“Yeah, it’s a living.” Eric flashed me that stunning smile. Like he didn’t think I was boring and awful.
“You all worked together for a long time? You seem—I dunno—close. I get a vibe.”
The trio exchanged glances before Andrew leaned in with a quirked eyebrow as if he were letting me in on a joke. “We’re like brothers. We went through the fire academy together.”
“Then we ended up at the same fire station downtown,” Jonathan chimed in.
“Downtown St. Louis?” I asked.
They all nodded. Those simultaneous responses were kind of adorable.
“Hunh. I wonder if I ever ran into you guys. I used to work down there as a reporter. Covered a lot of crime.”
“For The Post?” Jonathan said, his voice turning serious. He blinked and lifted his bottle to his lips, shutting us all out for a moment.
“Yeah,” I said. The mood shifted in that strange moment, and I hurried to take the focus away from Jonathan, though I wasn’t sure why I felt I needed to. “I still work there, but I’m a features writer now. Well, an editor. I only write one column.” There. That awkward explanation was sure to showcase my talents. I cursed myself for being so out of practice in public.
Jonathan’s bright blue eyes returned to me, studying me with more interest than I deserved. He was the most unsettlingly handsome one of the bunch, I decided.
“Which column?” Eric asked.
I released a strangled laugh. My diminished social life meant I hadn’t told many people about my weekly column. Birdie knew and loved it. My parents knew, of course, but they were less than thrilled.
“It runs on Saturday,” I said vaguely.
Eric tapped his finger on his lips. “Saturday. Okay…you’re not writing about the Rams…”
“Nope.” I laughed. That’s when it hit me: I was laughing! And talking to other human beings! And not panicking!
“You’re not the city columnist in the metro section,” Andrew said. “That guy’s about a hundred.”
“No,” Jonathan whispered, captivating me with his smile. His blue eyes twinkled when he shook back his dark, curly hair. “I’ve got it. You’re Bree.”
“That’s my name,” I said, unsure of how else to respond.
Eric thumped Andrew’s stomach with the back of his hand. “The sex columnist.”
All three guys stared, wide-eyed.
“Sex and love,” I corrected with a triumphant smile. Even though I was still struggling to find my footing with the column, I was proud of the work I’d done. It seemed to reach the people who needed it.
“Holy shit,” Andrew whispered, in awe. “The guys at the station love that column. We legit fight over the paper every Saturday.”
“The one where the woman wrote in about having a threesome was the best,” Eric said.
I giggled, listening to their playful argument about which column of mine they enjoyed the most.
“No, BDSM for Beginners,” Andrew said. He flashed me a wicked grin and a cocked brow. “Even if it wasn’t entirely accurate.”
Eek.
My cheeks heated but Jonathan came to my rescue. “Nah, that one from the guy who wanted romantic date ideas was pretty cool. You had the best answers.”
His friends made an aww noise, ribbing him.
“He’s the romantic in the bunch,” Andrew said.
“I see,” I said, offering them a small smile. “I didn’t know I was a celebrity around your station.”
Eric laughed out loud. “Something like that,” he said, taking my empty cider bottle.
Andrew made a show of grabbing me another, and the next hour flew by. They didn’t seem to mind my natural inquisitiveness and curiosity. I asked them more about being firefighters and soaked up their stories. I was grateful because I’d had enough of talking about myself.
Birdie came over, true to her name, fluttering around the four of us. “I’m so glad you’re getting her out of her shell. Make sure y’all eat.”
She gave me a Meaningful Look before flitting off. I glanced at my watch. Dammit, I’d been talking to them for almost two hours. I really did need to work; I had a deadline for a freelance client at nine the next morning.
“Guys, it’s been great, but I need to get back to the word mines.” I tossed my empty bottle in the nearby trashcan. “At least I’ll know your names when I run by.”
They looked more crushed than I expected. Jonathan had just reloaded his plate—these guys looked like they could eat and never gain a pound. The forkful of coconut cake he’d slipped into his mouth with an artistic swoop of his hand vanished behind his lush pink lips. He waved the clean prongs in my direction, gesturing as he chewed his morsel, trying to get out what he wanted to say.
“He wants to know if anyone’s gotten your number yet,” Andrew explained.
Shocked, I gave a bashful shake of my head.
“You guys are intent on messing with me tonight,” Eric raked a hand through his dark hair, flashing me a sheepish smile. “Do you—I mean—I was gonna ask…”
“You really want my number?” I almost bit my tongue off, trying to choke the words back in. So smooth.
“Wanna play rock–paper–scissors for who gets it first?” Andrew asked laughed, unperturbed by my awkwardness.
Jonathan set his plate on the nearest picnic table like he intended to play.
“No need,” Eric said, rushing to fish his phone from his pocket. He tapped on the screen before thrusting it at me. “If you just want to put it in there…”
I swallowed down my surprise long enough to consider whether I wanted to give my number out. What the hell was I doing? If they had my number, they could contact me. If they contacted me, I’d have to talk. Or text.
Someone without my issues might not understand the pressure I felt riding on that idea. But…they’d been so easy to talk to. And I’d experienced loneliness and isolation more often than I’d like to admit in recent months. What could it hurt to open myself up to a few more friends?
“Sure thing.” I decided as I spoke, taking the phone from him and entering my name and number. He had a nice phone. The whole time I was putting in my digits, I was afraid I’d drop it, and it would shatter on the ground. My fingers shook enough that I forced myself to check the number before I handed it back, making sure it was right.
“There you go.” My fingers tingled when they met his in the hand-off.
“Thanks.” Eric beamed. “I’ll text you, so you’ve got my number, too.”
“Cool deal,” I said, trying to maintain my composure. Blood roared in my ears, my heart threatening to do a jailbreak from between my ribs.
Andrew was quick to jump in next, passing his phone my way. “You can pop your digits right in there too if you’d like.” He tossed a playful look at Eric and then turned back to me. "I always text back.”
“Eventually,” Jonathan snorted, pulling out his phone. “I won’t make you type it in. My screen is wicked cracked. Would you mind just telling me?”
My head was spinning. I recited my number for Jonathan as I typed it into Andrew’s phone. “Is this some kind of joke?” I hadn’t meant to ask that out loud, but it came out all the same.
“No,” Eric said, his tone sulking and his brows low. “They know I’ve wanted to ask for your number for a while—”
“So, we figured, why not motivate him?” Andrew took his phone back from me as he finished Eric’s sentence. “Eric does better when he has competition.”
“You aren’t competition.” Eric snorted. “You’re just annoying.”
“Either way, it keeps him on his toes.” Andrew bounced his eyebrows and slid behind Jonathan as if anticipating a well-aimed swing. “I’ll text you, so you have my number,
too. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.” I wasn’t used to all this attention, and I was surprised to find I didn’t hate it. But I also didn’t know what to do with it. Should I encourage them or add to the sense of ‘competition’ they were trying to create? It seemed harmless. Clearly, they were all friends, and—amorous intent or not—I guessed I wasn’t in a position to pass up any kind of social interaction. Still, the thought of going on a date with any of these guys made my stomach knot with anxiety.
“We should probably get going, too,” Jonathan said, glancing at the big block numbers on his phone screen, “but it was great meeting you. And I guess you’ll run into us again, right?” He mimed jogging with a grin.
I laughed at his exaggerated motions. “Yeah, guess so. Sorry, I have this deadline…” Just like that, an awful, overwhelming sensation hit me. That’s how social interaction was for me. One minute, I was great. The next, I was in the land of way too much.
“Busy, busy. Work is never done, right?” Jonathan said as if he understood my need to flee. He retrieved his plate and tipped it into the trashcan. “Firefighter life and…sex columnist?” He paused, expecting me to fill in the blank with my preferred title.
“Journalist,” I provided.
“Journalism, even harder.” He grinned again. “We’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.” I hesitated, unsure of whether our interactions called for a hug, a high-five, or turning around and walking away like we’d never met. Thankfully, I didn’t have to think about it too long.
Jonathan tilted his head at his friends, and the three of them started walking towards the open gate. Andrew waved over his shoulder at me, and Eric winked.
I felt awkward standing there, watching them go, so I turned my attention to locating Birdie. She was behind a whole host of people I had no hope of getting through, and I decided it wasn’t worth pushing through the crowd to say my goodbyes. She probably wouldn’t even notice I’d left.
I waited until the guys disappeared, not wanting to look like I was following them or anything. Once they’d vanished from sight, I counted to ten. Then I headed for the same little swinging gate they’d used to leave.
