Flare Up

by Shannon Stacey

  She restocked items as needed, pulling the products forward on the shelves so they all lined up neatly. There was a small notepad for listing anything they were running low on. Expiration dates were checked and dust was taken care of. It wasn’t a sophisticated system, but they’d been running their market that way since before Wren was born.

  They closed early on Sundays because Sunday dinner was something the Belostotsky family didn’t compromise on, but they always stayed at least an hour past locking the doors to clean. Starting fresh with a clean store was important to them.

  Wren was filling the mop bucket when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She could count the number of people who had her new number on her fingers, so she wasn’t surprised to see Grant’s name on the screen. Not being surprised did nothing to keep her pulse from quickening, though.

  Are you free for dinner tonight?

  He hadn’t been blowing smoke when he said he wanted to get to know her again, then. She hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up last night, since the compulsion to know where she was and that she was okay might have been nothing but a residual impulse.

  I’ll be done working in about an hour, but then I’m free.

  Did you drive?

  No. She’d taken the bus from Patty’s because there was literally no place to park her car within a reasonable distance of the market. Before the fire had displaced her, it had been perfect because she walked.

  I took the bus.

  I’ll pick you up. Text me when you’re out the door.

  Sounds great.

  She texted the street address for the market and turned her attention back to the mop bucket.

  “You have a young man?” Mrs. Belostotsky asked from behind her, and she almost slopped water everywhere as she turned. “I saw you texting and only one thing puts a smile like that on a woman’s face.”

  “He’s...” She sighed, and then smiled. “It’s complicated, but he’s kind of my young man. Maybe. But he’s going to take me to dinner tonight.”

  “I can wash the floors if you want to leave early.”

  “Thank you, but he’s going to be pick me up out front. After I finish cleaning up.”

  She would have preferred to go home and change first. Not that she needed to dress up, even if she had the wardrobe for it, but a quick shower or at least the chance to brush her teeth would be nice. But seeing Grant would be nicer.

  As instructed, she sent him a text message when she was ready to walk out the door and not even a minute later, he pulled up out front. She was ready and climbed into the passenger seat when he came to a stop, much to the annoyance of the disgruntled driver behind him.

  “Hi,” he said as he accelerated again. “Sorry about the rush.”

  “No problem,” she said, buckling her seat belt. “Parking’s a horror show around here.”

  It felt surreal, Grant picking her up from work. Being in his Jeep. The way he smiled at her and the sound of his voice. It was too easy to imagine the nightmare of the last five months hadn’t happened.

  But it had, which was why he didn’t reach across and take her hand or rest his on her thigh like he used to do.

  “You in the mood for anything in particular?” he asked.

  “Whatever has parking available,” she said, and he laughed.

  He navigated through the city, taking random side streets, until she was good and lost. Not that it was hard to do. It would take years before she felt confident finding her way around Boston, if ever. People joked about the original city planners being drunk, but she was pretty sure there hadn’t been any planning at all.

  “This place has good calzones,” he said, pulling the Jeep into a parking space. “Or I can find someplace better if you want.”

  “A calzone sounds great. And I just got out of work, so I’d rather not go someplace fancy, if you know what I mean.”

  He looked at her as if he didn’t, in fact, know what she meant. “You look perfect.”

  Rather than point out she had a coffee stain on her shirt and her hair needed more than the small brush in her purse, she accepted the compliment with a smile. “Thank you.”

  He got out and walked around the Jeep to open her door. “The sidewalk’s a little slick, so be careful.”

  She took his hand as she stepped out and felt the muscles in his arm stiffen as he supported her. Once she was safely on the sidewalk, he closed the door and hit the fob button to lock it.

  It was the kind of hole-in-the-wall place only locals knew about, but there was still a decent crowd. Grant led her to a table near the window and the server dropped two menus on it as she walked by.

  “The service isn’t quite as good as the food,” he said as they sat down. “But the calzones are worth it. Fair warning, they’re also huge.”

  After looking over the menu, they decided to split a buffalo chicken calzone and an order of fries, and they each ordered a soda.

  “Thanks for agreeing to have dinner with me,” he said.

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “I guess you got home okay last night?”

  “I did.” She laughed. “Did Cait’s phone not tell you where we were?”

  “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

  She’d spent enough time with the other guys to know the answer to that, and she grinned. “I don’t know about never, but it’s going to be a while.”

  * * *

  Grant loved the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed at him. He’d be willing to do stupid stuff forever if it meant she’d look at him the way she was right now.

  “Actually, that’s one of the reasons I asked you to dinner tonight,” he admitted. “To apologize again for last night.”

  “You already explained. You didn’t need to feed me, too.”

  “I know I explained, but it was still weird. And everybody was watching us, which made it even worse.” He paused while the server set down their drinks and walked away. “There’s nothing worse than temporarily losing your mind with an audience.”

  “I think it’s weird for everybody,” she said quietly. “Me being back, I mean. Nobody knows how to act. Them. You. Even me.”

  “You just be you,” he said. “And I’ll try to be myself without the side of weird and possibly creepy.”

  “Okay, it’s a deal.” After taking a sip of her soda, she leaned back in her chair. “So catch me up on what you’ve been doing for the last few months.”

  He’d rather talk about last night than relive the last five months, but they’d happened. They couldn’t pretend they hadn’t. “I worked. Watched sports. Made a few trips home to see my parents. Worked some more. I covered a lot of shifts, when I could get them.”

  “And played hockey?”

  He pressed his lips together for a few seconds, and then forced himself to relax. “I haven’t been playing much hockey lately. I, um...it’s not a great way to blow off steam if you’ve got anger issues.”

  The understanding washed the amusement from her features, leaving behind guilt and sorrow. “I’m sorry, Grant. You love playing hockey.”

  “I still hit the ice with the guys here and there. I just haven’t played in the actual games.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “But I’ll play again. Guys kind of go in and out all the time, as stuff happens in life. Danny didn’t play for a while after Jackson was born. Now he’s back. Stuff like that is pretty normal.”

  “I feel like you’re saying that to make me feel better.”

  “I do want you to feel better, but it’s also the truth.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Nobody’s responsible for what I do but me. And now I want to hear what you’ve been up to.”

  “Working.” She sighed. “That was pretty much it. It wasn’t a great neighborhood, so mostly if I wasn’t at work or at the library, I was in my apartment,
reading.”

  “It breaks my heart, thinking about you being alone and shut away like that.” It was so true, his voice was a little hoarse when he said the words.

  “It was a choice I made.” She looked out the window for a long moment, and then back at him. “It doesn’t matter why, or how afraid I was. I made that decision.”

  “I know neither of us like dwelling on this, but can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “If not for the fire, were you just going to stay there? I know you’re quiet and like to read, but under that quiet exterior, you’re so...vibrant. If you were going to run, why not run somewhere you could be more free?”

  “Cait asked me that, the night of the fire. Why I didn’t drive until I was someplace cheaper to live. But I didn’t want to leave Boston. I was saving every penny and researching when I could, trying to figure out a way to make Ben go away.”

  He flinched on the inside when she said his name. “I don’t want to beat a dead horse, but I’m compelled to point out again that the research would have been easier with friends helping you. Especially friends like firefighters and EMTs who know people, like the police.”

  “I know. By the time I’d found a place to hole up in and the panic started easing, I couldn’t bring myself to make the call. I couldn’t drag you into it after what I’d done.” Her voice caught, and she swallowed some soda. “I think, deep down, I was hoping if I stayed in Boston and could figure out a way to solve the Ben problem, that maybe you and I... If I ran too far, there was never going to be any chance of seeing you again.”

  It was still there, churning in his gut. Why the fuck didn’t you just tell me? He wanted to fling the words at her—to yell them from the rooftops—but he swallowed hard and kept them inside. He was never going to understand because he’d never felt the kind of fear and vulnerability she had, so the words would do nothing but inflict more pain and guilt.

  The food couldn’t have arrived at a better time, he thought as the server set the calzone and fries on the table. “You need anything else?”

  “We’re good, thanks,” he said to her back as she walked away.

  “You weren’t kidding about the service,” Wren said. “Does she know you? And really hate you?”

  “Nope. That’s just how she is. Her sister is the other server. She has the sweetest personality, but forgets everything you say about five seconds after it leaves your mouth.”

  Wren laughed, and he was relieved the black cloud over their dinner was lifted. “So you can have great service with a bad attitude, or a great attitude with bad service, but not both?”

  “Exactly.” He cut the calzone in half and shifted her portion to her plate. “But the calzones are always good.”

  “This looks amazing. And I’m starving.”

  He grabbed the ketchup bottle and poured a puddle onto the plate next to his half of the calzone. It wasn’t ideal, but he remembered Wren didn’t like ketchup on her fries, so he couldn’t just pour it directly over the basket.

  There were benefits to dating a woman for a second time, he thought. He already knew her dos and don’ts, and her weird little quirks. Not liking ketchup on fries was definitely weird.

  “What are you thinking about that’s making you smile like that?”

  Busted. “I was remembering that you don’t like ketchup on fries because you’re weird.”

  “Paying for crispy, salty potatoes that you can’t even taste because all you can taste is the ketchup is what’s weird.”

  He laughed and dredged a fry through the puddle of ketchup before popping it in his mouth. They’d had this conversation on their third date, when he’d taken her to the aquarium. He’d bought fries from a street cart and, because they were walking around, he’d just poured the ketchup over the fries. She’d tried to be a good sport, but the grimace every time she took a bite gave her away.

  They avoided heavy conversation for the rest of the meal, much to Grant’s relief. It hadn’t been easy for him to reach out to her after last night, but he’d wanted to spend time with her alone. And now he was glad he’d worked up the nerve to send the text.

  Once they were done eating, there wasn’t a lot of point in sticking around. There was no dessert menu and Wren claimed to be too full to eat another bite, anyway. It was time to be a gentleman and take her home.

  And because he was a gentleman, he didn’t just pull into the driveway and let her jump out. He walked her to the front door, where she turned and looked up at him.

  “Thanks again for the dinner.”

  “It was my pleasure. Thank you for the company.” Because of his determination not to push, he didn’t move any closer, even though his body felt as if it was a dowsing rod and she was fresh water.

  Wren took a half step toward him, her face tilted up. “Are we really doing the awkward first kiss goodnight dance?”

  “After last night, I made a promise to myself not to push you, since we’re...on shaky new ground, I guess.”

  She tilted her head, her mouth curved into an inviting, sexy half smile. “Am I allowed to push you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She braced her hands against his chest as if she was actually going to push him, but then she ran them over his shoulders as she pulled him closer.

  Touching his lips to hers felt like coming home. He was more content—happier—than he’d been in a long time as he finally claimed her mouth. Her fingers slid into his hair and his tongue danced over hers.

  Mine.

  It was the same thought that had gone through his mind the very first time he’d kissed her. He leaned in, the kiss growing deeper and more possessive until her body was pressed to his.

  Reluctantly, he pulled back, breaking off the kiss. They were both a little breathless, and a smile played with the corners of her mouth.

  “Smiling’s a good sign,” he said, surprised by how rough his voice sounded.

  “That was our second first kiss.” The smile was bright, but her eyes looked a little misty. “Goodnight, Grant.”

  She opened the door and slipped inside before he could say anything else, so he just walked back to his Jeep, trying not to whistle like an old movie cliché.

  Their second first kiss. And maybe, this time, it had been their last first kiss.

  Chapter Nine

  Working the reception desk for a salon on Valentine’s Day should come with a bonus, Wren thought as she hung up the phone and picked up her water bottle, hoping to get a few sips in before the phone rang again.

  It seemed as if their entire clientele, along with countless women just calling around for a last-minute appointment anywhere they could get one, had big plans for the evening. She’d been warned ahead of time that it would be a crazy day, and her coworkers hadn’t been lying.

  Sadie—who was not only their most popular stylist, but also the owner—paused as she passed by the desk.

  “You doing okay, Wren?”

  Other than her throat being extra sore from all of the talking, she had a handle on it. “I seem to be. Nobody’s cursed at me, yet.”

  She laughed. “Some days that’s all you can ask for.”

  Wren didn’t mind being busy. It made the time go by and didn’t allow her to dwell on things she’d rather not think about around the clock. Like the ongoing mental list of items she needed to replace that seemed to get longer each day. While she had the things she absolutely needed, things kept popping up. She didn’t own tweezers. Or slippers. Or a coffee mug of her own.

  Luckily, she’d lived rather frugally, except the rent, so she had some savings. Since she’d need a huge chunk of that to move into a new apartment when she finally found one, she was trying not to spend it. Each week, she planned to buy a few small things and start replenishing from her regular paychecks. In the meantime, she was just unbelievably grateful for P
atty’s generosity.

  During a lull in phone calls, she checked her cell and saw a text message from Cait.

  Call me when you get a break.

  She still had another few minutes before Kelli would be free to cover the desk, so she sent back a thumbs-up emoji. A few seconds later, she took a call from a tearful woman who wanted to cancel her appointment because she’d found out where her boyfriend had made dinner reservations and apparently the cheap bastard didn’t deserve her at her best.

  “Are you sure you want to cancel?” she asked. “No matter where you eat, you might feel better if you look amazing.”

  “I’m sure. I’m going to leave my hair in a messy bun and wear my yoga pants just to prove a point.”

  After wishing the woman luck, which it sounded like she’d need, Wren scratched her name out and called the next client on the wait list.

  When Kelli finally showed up to spell her, she was frazzled. “Sorry, I ran over with that last blowout. The woman would not stop talking. I only have fifteen minutes until my next client.”

  “I’m just making a phone call, anyway. No worries.”

  Once she was in the break room, which was really only a folding table in a corner of the storage room, Wren brewed a coffee and grabbed a protein bar from her bag. After she’d washed down a couple bites, she pulled out her phone to call Cait.

  “Hey, Wren,” she said when she answered. “Gavin and I are going to Kincaid’s tonight. You should come.”

  She laughed. “Right, because nothing livens up a Valentine’s Day for a guy like his best friend’s ex tagging along as a third wheel.”

  “Shut up. It’s not even like that. We’re not really into the whole holiday thing. Mostly it’s the fact we both have tonight off and a bunch of us are going to the bar to hang out. Lydia’s making some special cocktail for the women, I guess. It’s not like we’re going out on a super romantic date and asking you along.”