Page 23 of Catching Sparks

True to his word, Brody showed up at six sharp in a truck far nicer than the one parked outside the guest house with Annalise and Johnny in tow.

The couple in the front two seats weren’t much for group discussion. Instead, they spoke in tones too hushed for me to hear if I had wanted to. Johnny, on the other hand, was all for conversation. My ears are still ringing from his pointless chitchat as Brody pulls the truck along the curb outside the fire station.

Only a sleek SUV sits outside the building, parked beside a fire truck that looks as though it’s seen much better days. I figure it’s only fitting that the truck looks as old and worn down as the ramshackle station.

“Who are we picking up here?” I ask Johnny.

Eager to talk some more, he answers quickly. “Caleb. Brody’s best friend.”

“He’s a firefighter?”

“Yep. The fire chief.”

I nod, attention drifting down the street toward the building next door to the station. Bright pink light streams from the open window, and inside?—

My head empties, only the echo of the pulse in my ears left behind.

The woman twirling around the pole in little more than a pair of shorts crawling between her ass cheeks and a lavender sports bra cupping her heavy chest is too familiar to mistake for anyone else. My gut clenches, warmth igniting there a beat later.

Even with the long, caramel-brown hair gone, swapped out for something warmer and brighter and held up with a small white clip, I recognize Poppy. After spending the entire week thinking about her despite my best efforts, I’d be ashamed of myself had I not.

I attempt to swallow, but my throat is too dry. She’s snared me with little effort. I’ve never watched . . . this before. This dance of passion. A grand performance in front of no one but herself.

The way Poppy moves up and down and side to side on the pole is mesmerizing. Such grace and power radiates from the way she curls her thigh around the pole and dips backward, letting her one arm fall behind her head as she sways. I grip my knees, the crisp, wrinkle-free slacks beneath my fingers a soothing feeling. A reminder of who I am, not where.

“That’s Poppy. You remember her, right?” Johnny asks, his voice a sledgehammer to the mirage I’ve slipped into.

I relax my fingers, smoothing the new creases in my slacks before turning my head to stare at the guy. He’s leaning across the middle seat between us to get a better view out my window, eyes wide and focused on Poppy.

Rolling my jaw, I manage to find words. “I remember Poppy. Does she always do this so openly? Where anyone can stare at her?”

“You mean like you just were?” He laughs, tossing himself back in his seat. “It’s her job. I doubt she’s shy about it.”

I reel back. “What do you mean it’s her job?”

Apparently, I didn’t ask the question quietly enough. It’s not Johnny who replies to me but Anna, the warning in her tone one I’m not used to hearing from her.

“Yes, her job. And I won’t have you judging her for it when she gets to the bar tonight.”

I scowl, even as I clasp my hands in my lap and focus on the confirmation that I’ll be seeing her later. “I wasn’t judging her for anything. Am I not allowed to be curious?”

“That depends on why you’re curious,” Brody tosses back.

“It’s okay, G-man. Poppy is the free-spirit type, right, Anna? She runs Beautifully Bold, the pole studio,” Johnny explains.

“I wouldn’t exactly call her a free spirit, but she’s not shy. Not about this. And she has no reason to be. She’s a beautiful dancer with a beautiful soul,” Anna says.

I curl and uncurl my thumbs, fidgeting in a way I haven’t since grade school. “I’ve never heard of a pole studio before.”

“I hadn’t either before I got here. It’s becoming more mainstream now, though, I think. Beautifully Bold is a place for anyone to learn to pole dance, but it’s about far more than that. It’s about strength and confidence and somewhere safe to go when and if we need it. She’s worked really, really hard on her business, which I’d assume a guy like you would appreciate. But Poppy would be better equipped to explain all this to you, if you were ever actually interested in learning more,” Anna says, softer this time.

Silence fills the cab as we all digest her words. Even Johnny doesn’t have a joke to toss in. If I were simply attracted to Poppy before, hearing that she may be even half as driven as I am threatens to crank the dial of desire up to a near dangerous level.

I’m grateful when a man I’ve never met comes jogging out of the fire station and toward the truck dressed in simple jeans and a sweatshirt. Anna rolls down her window and shouts for him to hop in behind Brody, where Johnny is scooting right up beside me, now seated in the centre seat. I close my legs as much as I can in an attempt to keep my personal space, but the moment this Caleb man takes the now empty seat, his large frame has the three of us shoulder to shoulder.

“Hey, guys,” Caleb greets us as Brody pulls back onto the road. “You must be Garrison. I’m Caleb.”

“Hello, Caleb,” I reply stiffly, trying to fold in my frame as much as possible.

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