“Frankenstein’s monster walked that way, but he didn’t say that. Gosh, get your quotes straight.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s easy to forget how much fun you are.”
“Thanks for heeding the note I slid under your door.” I follow him into his apartment and grab one of Phoebe’s tug-of-war ropes since she’s clearly dying to play.
“Did I have a choice?” he asks before reciting what I wrote. “If you bother me before I submit this draft, I will kill you. I won’t wait until you’re asleep. I’ll do it when you’re awake and aware.”
“What can I say? I was desperate to finish up.”
“And now that you have, how are you feeling?”
“Not awful.” Phoebe takes hold of the other end of the rope and just about takes my arm off. “Hey, girl, I need to type for a living!”
“You could always dictate,” Matt suggests while his dog continues pulling until I have to give up and let go.
“Wow. She’s strong.” I rub my shoulder while giving a rueful grin. “That’s what I get for trying to play and make up for lost time.”
He’s got a nice, rosy glow going on.
“Only you could get a tan while visiting family during the winter.” I sigh.
“I never said I was visiting them someplace cold. Actually, my brother rented a house in Florida. That’s where we were.”
“You were in Florida?”
“You were working anyway, so what difference does it make where we were?”
He has a point.
“You at least had fun, I hope?”
“Sure.” He’s smiling in a warm, genuine way when he sits on the couch to watch us play. “It’s always fun, hanging out with my niece and nephew. They’re a great time. They’re also exhausting. This one over here is used to being played with pretty intensely after the last several days.” He reaches out to scratch Phoebe’s ears.
“No wonder she’s feeling so rambunctious.”
“Speaking of rambunctious …” He sits back with a groan. “We never talked about my date.”
It’s like an early Christmas present. I totally forgot he even had a date after the auction. And now, he’s being generous enough to open up about it without my begging, and he sounds sort of regretful.
I’m so glad I visited. Pulled shoulder muscles be damned.
“What happened?” I can’t even pretend to be less interested than I am.
“You sorta look like Phoebe does when I bring out the treat bag.”
“Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”
He covers his ears with his hands. “My niece does that when she wants to know something. Only she’s six years old.”
“This would all be over if you’d just tell me what happened on your date.”
I know it couldn’t have gone well or else he’d be bragging about it.
“You know your grandmother’s friend Whitney?”
“Yeah?”
“Imagine her, like, fifty years ago.”
“Oh. No.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m surprised she didn’t ask for a copy of my latest tax return, so she could verify my income. When she wasn’t talking about how much her family owns, she was doing charming things, like running her foot up my leg under the table and asking if I had any nudes on my phone.”
“Shut up.”
“I won’t.”
“She asked you that?”
“She did.”
“What did you say?”
He stops for a second, looking at me like I’m crazy. “I said no.”
“I was only wondering. I guess there won’t be a second date.”
“There will not. I didn’t even get a BJ out of it.”
“It sounds like she would’ve been all about it though, right?”
Again with the look he’s giving me. “I do have standards, you know. One mouth isn’t the same as any other.”
I can’t help but respect that. He’s not quite the shameless slut I used to think he was, back when all I knew about him was how many times a week he made women scream in his bedroom.
Though I would never actually tell him that. Instead, I sigh and bat my eyelashes. “Wow. You’re such a poet.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
This is it.
This is it.
This is the night. I can feel it.
No matter what anybody says to the contrary, there’s a whole lot hanging in the balance. The first night together is an important one. It sets the tone for the nights that will follow.
Or maybe I’m overthinking this. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve overthought something.
Everything’s as perfect as I can make it. When I texted Bryce earlier today, he said it would be great if we ordered food and ate it at my place. It’s all ready, waiting in a warm oven.
Are the candles too much? I don’t think so. I hope not anyway. If I’d had the time to go downstairs to the storage unit, I could’ve brought up my strings of lights and hung them around the apartment. That would’ve been sweet and romantic, not to mention holiday-themed. But there wasn’t time. The candles will have to do.
I’m definitely overthinking this.
It’s just that out of the handful of men I’ve dated lately, Bryce seems like the most likely candidate for a serious relationship. He’s perfect boyfriend material. Granted, if anybody had told me when I was a kid that I’d ever think anything even remotely like this, I would’ve …
I don’t know what I would’ve done. Cried maybe. Because he made me that miserable.
That was then. Now, my palms are sweaty, and I’m only marginally sure I remembered to put on deodorant—and oh, of course, now is when there’s a knock at the door, and I don’t have time to dart back to my room to do a quick swipe.
Bryce doesn’t seem to notice how discombobulated I feel when I open the door, which either means I’m doing a good job of covering or he’s oblivious.
“There’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in days.” He smiles as he walks into the apartment.
“I hope you’re talking about me and not the candles.”
“I was definitely not talking about the candles.” He wraps me up in a tight hug. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this. I swear, the thought of seeing you tonight is what got me through.”
Oh. That doesn’t sound good.
I have to bend backward and crane my neck to get a look at him. “What’s that mean? What happened?”
He lets me go with a sigh. “I wasn’t going to say anything. I don’t want to bring you down. I told myself I didn’t want to ruin tonight.”
Well, there goes the romance for now.
“It’s okay. If something is bothering you, let’s talk about it. Are you hungry? The food’s waiting.”
“I knew you weren’t the only good-smelling thing in the apartment.” He waits for me in front of the coffee table while I carry in platters of rice, chicken, tofu, and noodles. It’s a good thing he likes Chinese food as much as I do.
“So, let’s talk about it. What happened?” I pour us each a glass of wine while he puts a plate together for himself.
“I figured you wouldn’t have heard about it since you’ve been working so hard all week.” He rubs the back of his neck and rolls his head from side to side like he’s feeling tension. “There were two big fires this week. I was on-site for both of them.”
“Oh no. You’re right; I had no idea.” It never occurred to me to pay closer attention. I was neck deep in my book.
“It’s okay. I didn’t think you would.”
“Do you want to talk about the fires? Or anything else?”
“House fires. Faulty wiring on the one, a burning tree on the other. Like I said, this time of year is the worst. And don’t even get me started on what happens when people use space heaters and fall asleep without making sure they aren’t touching anything flammable.”
Wow. This evening is going in a vastly different direction than I expected. Then
again, I might be the only person he feels comfortable talking with about this sort of thing. Men don’t usually sit around, sharing feelings, and he’s surrounded by men all day.
“I’m so sorry. That must be hard to leave behind at the end of a shift.”
“It’s practically impossible sometimes. So, I’m a little off at the moment. But just a little,” he insists when he looks at my face.
I mean, I’m frowning on the inside, so it only makes sense that disappointment would show on the outside.
I really should start paying more attention to local news. Though I also know myself, which means I know I’d obsess and worry about everything.
Crap. Now, I’m really getting depressed. Of course, my imagination won’t let me leave things where they are. God forbid.
What would it be like, being Bryce’s girlfriend?
How many ulcers would I end up with?
“I’m sorry.” He reaches out, stroking my cheek. “Let’s talk about your work. You submitted your draft early. What did your editor think?”
“She thinks if I used you to inspire my hero, you’re the perfect man.”
Poor Bryce almost shoots rice out of his nose. “Hardly!” he chokes as I pat him on the back. Once he’s finished choking, he shoots me a withering look. “Don’t do that to me when I have a mouth full of food.”
“I didn’t know you’d burst out laughing!”
“What else am I supposed to do? Say, Oh, yeah, I’m super perfect. She’s so right.” He rolls his eyes, still chuckling as he goes back to his fried rice.
“Hey, you’re pretty perfect. Just because you can’t accept that doesn’t make it untrue.”
“You’re the one calling me perfect? Please.” He looks me up and down with those dangerous, dark eyes. They’re so bright in the candlelight. “You’re the total package. Beautiful, successful, but not full of yourself. Warm, sweet, smart. You don’t fall for just any line, but you have an open heart. I mean, how much more perfect can a woman get?”
“What are you trying to do? Make me forget all about dinner?”
He shrugs with a wicked grin. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m telling you the truth. It’s the truth, no matter what we’re doing—eating dinner or otherwise. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Maybe he’s not quite as depressed as he seemed before. Otherwise, being with me is enough to lift his spirits. I don’t want to let it go to my head, but how am I supposed to avoid it?
He leaves his plate on the table, turning to me. Our knees touch. “You went to all this trouble tonight. I can’t explain what it means to me to come here to you, to this. After looking forward to it all week, to see you and know you cared so much about making tonight special … it means the world.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to get me to fall in love with him.
Heck, I might not know better. He might really be trying it. And he might be succeeding.
“You deserve somebody who makes you feel that way. I’m glad it can be me.”
He reaches for me, stroking my cheek again. This time, rather than letting his hand fall away, he slides it around to the back of my neck and pulls me a little closer. I get the feeling he’s not interested in dinner anymore.
For that matter, neither am I. I can eat whenever.
“I want it to be you.” He touches his forehead to mine. “I know we started off badly. I know you didn’t go into this wanting anything more than a date and a little research. You couldn’t have even been in it for the sex since you already wrote your first draft and we haven’t gotten past first base yet.”
“You were rounding first and heading to second before the phone interrupted us,” I remind him with a breathy laugh. My heart flutters at the thought.
“I want you to know that I’d like to keep seeing you. I’d like it so much.” He kisses me softly, gently. “I want more of you in my life.”
“Even though I can’t skate?”
He laughs against my throat. “Even though you can’t skate. I figured you were pretending at first, like you wanted the excuse to have me hold you. But nobody can pretend to be that bad.”
“I’m not even offended.”
We’re both laughing when our lips meet again and again, each kiss deeper than the last, until dinner is the furthest thing from my mind.
Until there’s nothing to do but get up and dart around the living room, blowing out the candles as I go.
“What are you doing?” Bryce asks as I plunge the room further into darkness with each candle I extinguish.
“I don’t want to leave them burning while we’re busy.” When I reach him again, I hold out a hand. “It might be dangerous.”
“All that, and she cares about fire safety too.” He takes my hand and stands, following me to the bedroom. “I’m starting to think I could fall in love with you, Kitty Valentine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“That was it? You stopped there?”
That’s just like Hayley.
I’m sitting here, telling her all about what happened with Bryce, and all she wants to talk about is what didn’t happen.
“I mean, we stopped where we stopped. At the perfect place, I think.”
She frowns anyway. “Don’t ask me why I care so much, but I was hoping you’d at least get laid by the time this was over.”
“Wow. For one thing, who says it’s over? Thanks for all your faith in me.”
“Sorry.” She points to her mug, where a boozy, holiday-themed coffee steams. “Too much holiday cheer.”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes to let her know what I think of that pitiful excuse. “Anyway, we both got something out of it. Believe. Me.”
Her eyes light up again. “Oh, really? So, he was good …” She points to her crotch, eyes darting back and forth like she’s afraid somebody at the restaurant will know what she’s referring to.
“That is probably the classiest thing you’ve ever done, Hayley. Congratulations.”
“I’m just saying. Was it good when he went downtown?”
“Went downtown? Even I’ve never used anything that lame in my books.”
“Do you want me to get more graphic in front of people? Because you know I will. Your face will burst into flames by the time I’m finished.”
“Okay, I get it. You don’t have to do that.”
“Because I will.”
“I know you will. Jeez.” I’m already blushing furiously as it is. “I’ve never loved talking about things like this. You know that.”
“I know. Which is what makes your choice of career even more baffling sometimes.”
“No, it doesn’t. That’s why I didn’t write sexy scenes before now, duh.” After taking a quick look around, I lean in and whisper, “It was extremely good. For a really, really long time.”
“Ooh, yeah? Like, how long?”
“I didn’t have a stopwatch handy, Hayley.”
“Fine, fine.” She leans across the table the way I am. “How many times did you …”
Again, I look around before holding up three fingers.
“I hate you!” she hisses, slamming her back against the booth. “I just hate you.”
“Do not. Remember Timmy the Tongue? You were downright graphic when you described what went on with him, and you dated him for, what, four months?”
She sighs softly, staring out the window behind me. “Timmy. I wonder what he’s up to nowadays.”
“Focus.” I snap my fingers in front of her. “You subjected me to that, and don’t think it didn’t make me jealous.”
“You’re right. You’re due a little gloating.”
“I wasn’t trying to gloat …”
“You know what I mean. Gloat away, if you want to.” Before I get the chance, she flashes a wicked smile. “What about Bryce?”
“What about him?” Oh, gee, my cheeks are hot again. Maybe hotter than before.
“Was he satisfied by the end of the night?”
“He sur
e seemed that way. And that’s all I’m saying about it. After that, we snacked a little on what was left of dinner and went to sleep.”
“Aww, he spent the night?” She crosses her hands over her chest with a sigh. “That’s so nice.”
“It was.” I can’t hold back a gleeful smile. “It really was. Just sleeping with somebody was nice. Especially somebody like him. He’s not some jerk. He’s not a random hook-up.”
She rests her chin in her palm, elbows on the table. “So? What does this mean?”
“Does it have to mean anything?”
She scoffs.
“No, I’m serious,” I insist. “I’m not trying to be cute. Does it have to mean anything? He spent the night. We messed around.”
“It depends on how he feels, right? You’ve already told me how determined he seems to lock you down.”
“You manage to make things sound so romantic.”
“It’s true though. And why wouldn’t he wanna lock you down?” She tosses her golden hair back. “You’re Kitty fucking Valentine. You’re the whole package. Of course he’s gonna pull out all the stops to make you his girlfriend.”
“I don’t think he’s doing that yet. Dating exclusively maybe. But not boyfriend-girlfriend yet.”
“Kitty, he went down on you until you came three times. And he spent the night. I bet you stayed up late talking, and then you cuddled the entire time you were asleep.”
“So what if we did?” And why am I suddenly shredding a napkin into teensy bits?
“It’s okay if he wants that. If you want it, I mean,” she adds.
“I do want it. I think.”
“Do me a favor and stop that.” She covers my hands with hers before I get the chance to take her napkin and destroy it the way I’ve destroyed mine. “It’s also okay if you don’t want to be his girlfriend.”
“I do though. I think I do. It’s just that I don’t know what that would do to my writing, for one thing.”
“Please,” she says, removing her hands and leaning back in the booth. “You can make things up however you need to. You don’t absolutely have to date the guys you write about.” She winks with a smirk. “Hey, think of it this way: you could tell him you need to write about all kinds of exciting, sexy things and you have to research with him.”
Kitty Valentine Dates a Fireman Page 12
