Kitty Valentine Dates a Fireman

by Dodd, Jillian

  “Oh. I thought you two were a couple.” He slides a plate of shrimp scampi in front of me. “I mean, when your friend ordered for you …”

  “She knows what I like.” And I do love the shrimp scampi here. Why not overload on garlic tonight? It’s not like I’m going to be kissing anybody.

  Not that I’m bitter about that or anything. I just wasn’t the right girl for my previous dates.

  “So, you aren’t a couple?” he asks, and naturally, his attention shifts solely to Hayley. “Does that mean you’re single?”

  Her smile is warm as she explains, “I am, but I’m also a lawyer who works eighty hours a week. This is a rare night out.”

  “Gotcha.” After asking whether we need anything else, he takes his tray and his stand and what’s left of his pride, and he hurries away.

  “You know—and I’m not complaining when I say this—every time I’m with you, it’s like I become invisible.”

  She shrugs it off like it hasn’t happened a hundred times before, digging into her mushroom ravioli. “He knew you were gonna be dating somebody soon.”

  And I swear, it sounds like she actually means it. Like she has no idea how absolutely stunning and magnetic she is.

  “Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.” With that, I give the spinner a spin. “Let’s see who I’m going after this time.”

  “You make it sound so fun and romantic.” She reaches across the table and spears a shrimp in time to avoid being stabbed in the hand. By me.

  We both stare at the small opening and watch the various types of men go past. All the most popular tropes in romance, minus the ones I notice Hayley has crossed out. Even without billionaire, boss, doctor, rock star, and firefighter, there are still plenty to choose from.

  Including the one left showing through the plastic screen once the spinner stops.

  Hayley lets out a tiny squeal. “Actor! Yay!”

  “What’s so exciting about that?”

  “Um, hello, we live in New York. You can’t swing a dead cat without finding an actor. Hell, our server’s probably an actor. You should ask him.”

  “When he forgot I existed a minute ago? No, thanks. I do have at least a scrap of self-respect.”

  “Fine then. I wonder how you can find an actor.”

  “Besides swinging a dead cat?” I stick my tongue out when she gives me a sour look. “Actually, I think maybe I can find a way. Though it’ll take a minute. Huh. I wonder …”

  “What is it?”

  I have to hold up a finger to shush her since an idea is brewing in my head and it might be pretty big. “I wonder if I could find one on social media,” I finally suggest before chewing my lip. “Is that a terrible idea?”

  “Not terrible. Just … surprising.”

  “Right. I didn’t get to finish telling you what Maggie said about me building more of an audience. I have to spend more time on social media and, like, build my platform or something. Whatever it is she said.”

  “It makes sense. All writers should have a presence.”

  “Don’t get me started. Back to the matter at hand. I could always send feelers out on social media, right? If Maggie thinks it’s okay, I mean. Like if I announce my newest book’s theme and ask if there are any actors in the area who’d be willing to get together and answer questions. It doesn’t have to be presented as a date thing. But it could turn into that if I liked the guy and there was … you know … a spark.”

  “I think you’re a freaking genius.”

  “I thought that was already an agreed-upon thing.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot.”

  She tries to spear another shrimp, but I’m too fast for her this time.

  “Girl, if you don’t think I’ll stab you in front of all these people …” I jab my fork in her direction just in case she decides not to take me seriously.

  “So, let me get this straight. They want you to up your presence on social media while you’re waiting to get on the schedule?”

  “I guess it’s something I should’ve been doing all along. I wish somebody had told me. Have I been too much of a hermit all this time?”

  “I think I already told you that … back in October. And seriously, how are you not already on social media?”

  “Remind me why we’re friends again,” I mutter.

  “Because if you didn’t have me, you’d never go anywhere. Besides, social media should be right up your alley. You can talk to people without going out.”

  “You do have a point.”

  “I know. Plus, there are so many writers out there. Have you ever considered joining a writing group? Like, to critique and encourage each other? To bounce ideas? You never know what you could learn until you try.”

  I have to resist the impulse to bury my head in my arms on the table. Mostly because this is a nice restaurant and there’s a plate of food in front of me. It’s one thing for my breath to smell like garlic and another for my hair to be dripping with garlic butter. I didn’t take the time to curl it for that to happen.

  “Is it like this for lawyers?” I ask, just a little unhappy.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Are you always being told there’s more you should be doing? More to learn, more to keep on top of?”

  “Um, yeah. The law isn’t set in place. It’s always changing with new rulings and statutes. We have to keep up with the revisions, and it’s a lot of work.”

  “So, in other words, the fact that I haven’t done any of these things doesn’t mean I’m the world’s worst writer?”

  “It doesn’t make you the world’s worst writer. Not even the second or third worst. So, don’t worry about it. You’ve gotten by so far, and you could probably still get by without them.”

  She leans in a little, looking me straight in the eye. “But do you want to? Or do you wanna continue stretching yourself as a writer? It’s your craft, right? It’s what you do. It’s your life. You might as well learn as much about it as you can. And, hey, maybe you’ll meet a bunch of people who will never be as cool as me but are still pretty cool.”

  That is why Hayley is my date tonight. She’s the best.

  “I don’t know if anybody could ever be as cool as you, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

  “Don’t forget that and end up getting a bunch of new writer friends and ignore me.”

  “That would never happen.”

  Our server pops over with a wink for Hayley. “How’s everything over here?”

  “Great.” She smiles at me. “And we found out my friend is going to date an actor next.”

  Big surprise, he suddenly notices I’m sitting here. “An actor? Hey, I’m an actor.”

  “I should’ve put money on it,” Hayley whispers.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Let me get this straight.”

  I roll my eyes until they’re practically falling out of my head. “Why do I tell you anything?”

  “Because I ask—and that’s because it’s always fun to hear about your new victim.” Matt tips his head back, tossing a dumpling in the air and catching it in his open mouth.

  “That’s a good way to choke to death. Not that I’d mind it if you did.”

  “Please. What would you do without me? I shudder to think.”

  “I did pretty well without you for about twenty-four years, thanks.”

  “That’s up for debate.”

  He hands a piece of chicken to Phoebe, his beautiful golden retriever, who I like a lot more than I like him. If dogs could smile, she’d be beaming from ear to ear. Only the way he looks at her keeps me from stabbing him the way I threatened to stab Hayley during dinner last night.

  He loves her and spoils her rotten, which is at least a point in his favor. He might have a soul.

  “Anyway,” he continues when he turns my way again, “you’re gonna date an actor this time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who you plan to meet online. Are you using that dating profile again?”


  My cheeks flush, and I really wish I could control them better because they make me look like I’m guilty of something. “No. I’m not using it. I probably should’ve deleted it after meeting Jake.”

  As it turned out, my dating profile hadn’t led me to Jake, the sexy ER doc who whispered his ex-girlfriend’s name while naked in my bed. Right before we almost … you know.

  It was Phoebe—currently sniffing my tofu and spring rolls—who made me sprain my ankle on the stairs. All it took was getting wrapped up in a leash and dragged to the ER by Matt.

  “Or—and this is just a wacky idea that popped into my head—you could use it to actually date people. Not strictly for work stuff.” His eyes widen. “Shocking, I know.”

  I have to raise my voice to shut him up. “Anyway, like I was saying, this will be via social media. I have to get online and make friendly with people.”

  “You don’t have a social media presence?”

  He gets a look for that one.

  “Why do you make it sound like I just admitted I don’t wash my feet in the shower?”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m not an animal. I can’t believe you’d even ask me that. And now, I’m starting to feel like you don’t.”

  “I do.” But he won’t maintain eye contact. “Anyway, I was surprised because everybody has a social media presence nowadays. Especially artists, people in the public eye, entertainers.”

  “I’ve always done well enough without it.” I shrug. “I didn’t think it was such a big deal. Obviously, if the publisher had brought this up before, I would’ve done something about it. Maybe they did and just thought I was being difficult when I didn’t do it. I don’t remember. I was trying to write.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I guess do what they want me to do, like I did when we started this whole new sexy-books thing.”

  “Eh, you’ll be fine. Although …” He frowns, going silent.

  I shouldn’t ask. I know I shouldn’t ask. Curiosity killed the kitty and all that.

  There’s clearly a disconnect between my brain and my mouth, however. “Although what?” I ask when I can’t take it anymore. “What is it?”

  He shrugs, his frown deepening. “It’s just that I’m not sure what you could do to keep your fans thinking you’re a cool, normal person.”

  Which is why I shouldn’t have asked. “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t. Or you wouldn’t have offered to pick up the lunch tab today. What gives?” He pops another dumpling into his mouth, so smooth, so sure of himself.

  Ugh, he’s insufferable.

  “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve heard screaming emanating from your apartment. In fact, I haven’t heard much of anything over there lately—though I do sometimes hear you coming in first thing in the morning. Not from a walk or a run with Phoebe since she doesn’t scratch at my door.”

  “Detective Valentine.” He snorts.

  But, again, he won’t meet my gaze, so I know something’s up. He likes to pretend he thinks I’m useless and it doesn’t matter what I say, but he’s full of it. The second I hit on something, he clams right up and turns especially snarky.

  “What’s up? Are you moonlighting? Is being a financial wizard not as lucrative as it once was?”

  His hazel eyes aren’t sparkling with humor anymore. “Knock it off.”

  Now, you’d think I’d take this as a hint that I should indeed knock it off. But here’s the thing: it’s so rare for me to have him in this position—where I know there’s something he’d rather I not know, therefore giving me a little bit of power over him—that it would be stupid of me to let this go. “Are you now a gentleman of the night? An escort for bored, wealthy, older women with questionable taste?”

  At least that earns me a snicker.

  “I think we both know they wouldn’t have questionable taste, Valentine.” He lifts and lowers his eyebrows, all suggestive-like.

  “That’s up for debate.” It’s not every day I get to throw his words back at him. Boy, this impromptu lunch was a great idea. I’m batting a thousand.

  “Touché.” He rolls his eyes before tossing Phoebe another piece of chicken from his chow mein. No matter how many times he orders it, I still think it’s disgusting.

  “For real. Come on. Believe it or not, I sort of care what happens to you.”

  He raises a skeptical brow to go along with his skeptical smirk. “Oh, really? That’s news.”

  “Well, I mean, I’d have to take care of Phoebe if you kicked the bucket or went to jail or whatever. It would affect me.”

  “You think I’d give Phoebe to you? Please.”

  “What’s wrong with me? Who the heck else would you give her to?”

  “You’re not the only person I know, Kitty.” He rolls his eyes, which is a total me move.

  There’s definitely something going on.

  “Where have you been lately? I won’t stop asking until you tell me.”

  “It’s none of—”

  “Where’ve you been? Where’ve you been? Where’ve you been? Where’ve you been?”

  He throws his hands into the air, red-faced. “Fine, I’m seeing someone! Okay?”

  My mouth snaps shut. That’s not what I was expecting. Not that I have any idea what I was expecting.

  But that wasn’t it.

  He looks up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Now, you know. I’m seeing someone.”

  What am I supposed to say? Matt doesn’t date people. He hooks up. At least, that’s always been his method. I feel like somebody dropped me in the middle of an ice-cold pool.

  “Oh. I, um, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that right away.”

  He chuckles before going back to his food. “Yeah, you do. We both know why you didn’t. And you can make fun of me all you want but only for the length of time it takes to finish our lunch. After that, I don’t want to hear anything about it.”

  “I wasn’t going to make fun of you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Matt, I wasn’t.”

  He glances up from his container. “You mean it?”

  “Of course! I’m not like you.”

  “Really? How so?”

  “I, for one, don’t take perverse pleasure in tormenting people the way you take pleasure from tormenting me, you dork. Jeez.” I look him up and down, biting back a smile. “Curiosity, on the other hand, that’s my forte.”

  “I figured that was coming too.”

  “So … what’s she like? What’s her name? Where does she work? Where does she live?”

  “Do you want to know her blood type too? Maybe the name of her childhood best friend?”

  “Hey, I’m sorry for caring.”

  “You’re being nosy. That’s not the same as caring.”

  “Don’t tell me how to care, Matt. And let us not forget that you’ve quizzed me on the guys I’ve dated recently. You knew just about everything about them, and don’t even pretend like you didn’t give me a ton of crap.”

  “All right.” He leaves the container on the coffee table before rubbing his palms on his legs. Like he’s nervous. “Her name is Gretchen. She’s in my line of work. We met through a mutual friend last month.”

  “Last month?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Last month?” That earns him a pillow to the side of the head. “You’ve been seeing somebody for weeks, and you didn’t say anything? What the heck?”

  “I don’t know. Like I said, I expected you to make fun of me. And it’s not like I expected it to last six weeks—”

  “Six weeks? So, what, since before Christmas? Matt!”

  “Okay, okay, I should’ve said something. Fine.”

  “Wow. No wonder I’ve hardly seen you around.”

  “Aw, did you miss me?”

  “Clearly not, or I would’ve mentioned something about this before. Trust me, I’ve appreciated the peace and quiet. But you could’ve said someth
ing. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

  “Point taken.”

  “If you ever plan on spending the night away and need somebody to look in on Phoebe, let me know.”

  “Will do.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “She’s nice.” He holds my gaze, chewing slowly and deliberately. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

  “Okay, fine. We’ll talk about my life. Jeez. I thought, for once, you’d like to talk about yourself.”

  “Nope. I like talking about you a whole lot better. It takes the focus off me.”

  “And it gives you the opportunity to make fun of me.”

  “Ex-actly. So, an actor this time, huh? You think you can handle that?”

  “Why would I not be able to?”

  “Actors and their egos. You know how it is.”

  “That’s not necessarily true. It’s a stereotype.”

  “Stereotypes have to come from somewhere. So, it must’ve been true for somebody at some point. Just sayin’.”

  “I don’t care. I’m going into this with an open mind. And, hey, if I put up with Dustin’s ego, I can handle an actor. I even put up with your ego, which is seriously saying something.”

  “It’s not all ego if it’s true. At least I can back my ego up.”

  I won’t even bother to dignify that one with a reply. “So, I’ll announce on social media that I’d like to meet an actor and pick their brain for my next book. I already have a few hundred followers, so hopefully, they’ll see what I post.”

  “Prepare yourself,” he murmurs, picking at what’s left of his food with his chopsticks.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means, prepare yourself. Gird your loins and all that.”

  “Why?”

  “You can’t be this naive. Because the internet is full of disgusting trolls and jerks and people whose entire life’s goal is to make the rest of the world as miserable as they are.”

  “Not my fans though.”

  “No, not your fans.” He rolls his eyes, snickering. “It’s not your fans who will be the problem. It’s men in general. We’re a bunch of pigs.”