Page 9 of We Can Forever

“Yes. Michael Greer.” He extends his hand.

“Hannah Lewis.” I slide my palm into his, and electricity crackles across my skin and up my arm as we shake.

“Hannah.” He says my name like it’s poetry, and the deep timbre of his voice makes it all the better. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too.” Realizing I’m still holding on to his hand, I swiftly drop it. “I just need to finish closing up. It should only take a few minutes. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

I’m intensely aware of his close presence as he follows me into the shop. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He lingers by the wall. “That’s a lot of yarn by the radiator. That could be a fire hazard.”

“O…kay.” I grab my purse, not sure how to react to such a random comment.

His face turns pink. “Sorry. Bad habit. I’m a firefighter.”

“You are?” So then maybe he walked out of a calendar rather than off a magazine cover.

“I’m the fire chief here.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, and I realize for the first time that he’s probably as nervous as I am.

Which, ironically, makes me less nervous.

“That’s cool. Stopping fires is important.”

Oh God. Did I really just say that? I sound like a second grader presenting her report on what firefighters do.

He chuckles. “I think so.”

My face hot, I turn away from him, using the excuse of switching off most of the lights. “Ready to go?”

“Absolutely.”

He holds the door open for me, and we head out into the chilled dusk. Understanding that we’re both coming from the same place—sheer nervousness—is helping me breathe easier, even despite the awkward comment I just made about his job. We might be strangers, but at least we have one thing in common.

“Jenny says we should have pizza.” Michael starts slowly walking down the sidewalk. “Apparently it’s the perfect first-date meal.”

“Oh, is it now?” I laugh.

“Yeah,” he chuckles.

“Jenny has a lot of opinions, doesn’t she?”

“That’s one way to put it.” He grins down at me, and I’m struck by how tall he is, how broad his shoulders are. I’m feeling things I haven’t felt in years, and we’ve known each other all of five minutes.

“Michael!” A man with thinning gray hair approaches. “Heard you’re picking up your dad’s old project, renovating the firehouse kitchen.”

“Er, uh, yes. I am.” Michael stiffens slightly.

“Your dad sure would have liked to see those windows replaced.”

Michael nods. “I might get to them. There are some other priorities first.”

The man shakes his head. “Your dad knew what he was talking about.”

Michael’s jaw tightens, but he smiles through it. “Thanks, Lou. I’ll keep that in mind. See you later.”

We start walking again, but we haven’t gone even a few steps before Mrs. Krohn comes out the front door of her realty office. “Well, hey there! How are the renovations going on the firehouse?”

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