Page 9 of Misadventures Of A Single Mom

“You have a one-track mind!” I hissed.

Ty laughed, then leaned in close. Real close “With you and that pretty pink nipple? Absolutely.”

My mouth fell open and my cheeks flushed. “I have two of them,” I countered, stunning myself at the witty response.

I couldn’t help but laugh, because it was his turn to blush. It felt good to banter with a man. Special, like there was some secret between the two of us, especially with a bunch of firefighters a few feet away.

Yeah, I’d just flirted about my nipples. Kelly would have rolled her eyes at how I’d gone about luring Ty in, but it seemed to have worked. He was interested based on the way his eyes got dark and his jaw clenched

“Hey, Ty! Look at me. I’m stuck!” Bobby said, his free arm waving around and tearing Ty’s eyes from mine.

Once he turned his attention to Bobby, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Sure, they were frazzled because I was worried about my child. It had nothing to do with Ty’s heated glances, his obsession with a certain part of my anatomy. Yeah, right.

With everyone focused on Bobby, I got to check out Ty in his firefighter uniform. Blue dress shirt with a shiny silver badge on his chest, navy pants that made his butt look amazing. If he was going to look at my chest, then I had free rein to look at his ass, and the rest of him. He had on heavy black work boots, a walkie-talkie and other various electronic do-hickeys clipped to his belt. The few times I’d seen him, he always looked crisp and precise. Not a hair out of place. Although a military buzz cut made that part fairly easy. I had my suspicions he was a neat-nick, just like the Colonel. Probably a lengthy stay in the military did that to you.

I had to admit, Goldie had been right. He was arealman. A real man who looked at my mouth as if he wanted to kiss it!At my breasts as if he wanted to kiss them, too. I stole a quick glance at his hands. Big. Rugged. Yup, he could probably do a lot with those hands. And I wasn't thinking about a snow blower either.

No one rushed to get a gurney or call in an ambulance for Bobby. I made Zach tell them what had happened. I figured it was punishment enough.

“I guess this is the kind of call you like. No one’s hurt, no fire to put out,” I said as I snapped a quick photo with my phone of Bobby with his arm stuck, grinning. I had to email the photo to my mom and Goldie and everyone else who wouldn't want to miss seeing it. Besides, I needed a picture to show Bobby’s girlfriend in twenty years to embarrass him. I stayed out of the way as Ty knelt next to him.

“Okay, champ. No big deal here. I’m going to use this hacksaw and cut the pipe.” Ty ran a reassuring hand over Bobby’s dark hair. “When you go to preschool next month you’re going to have a great story to tell!”

Bobby nodded his head happily, probably excited about sharing this experience with his fellow four-year olds. He seemed to trust Ty and didn't panic as the blade went back and forth. I realized I was holding my breath and let it out. I had faith in Ty, too, but I wanted Bobby to keep all of his fingers.

Within a few minutes, the PVC pipe that stuck out of the cement was sawed off. The firemen cheered and made a big deal out of it for Bobby, arm still trapped in plastic tubing up to his armpit. He smiled and loved all the attention. Zach did not. Served the little bugger right.

“Cheese, Mommy!” Bobby held his arm straight from his body and hammed it up for the camera some more.

I fumbled for a moment, but got the shot. I shook my head and laughed as a few firemen tended to him.

Ty stood up and came over to me. “Doing okay?”

“I could have used a little reassurance my baby wasn't going to get his arm sawed off,” I grumbled.

He moved in close, his hip brushing against my waist. “You kept a brave face,” he whispered in my ear, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. His warmth seeped into me through the thin cotton of my shirt. “Show me the picture,” he added, probably trying to distract me. I didn’t need to show him my phone to do that. Just his scent and closeness distracted the heck out of me.

Since I couldn’t tug him into my bedroom for a little grown-up time out, I held my cell up for him to see the screen. I tried to click the buttons for the photo to come up, but his warm breath fanning my neck made such a simple task extremely difficult. Ty was very good at distraction.

“This week we’ve been on three meth ODs. That’s not what I call fun.” He didn’t sound happy about it. “We sure do like a good fire, but this,” —he pointed to Bobby’s image when I finally pulled it up and chuckled— “we’ll talk about at the Christmas party.”

He winked at me.

I licked my lips and his eyes watched the motion. “I’ll…um…make sure to email you a copy.”

One of the firemen asked for some dish soap and I went to get it. They used it to lube Bobby's arm and he quickly wriggled free. First thing, he launched himself at Ty and hugged him around the legs, soap and all. Ty knelt down and hugged him back. Pagers and walkie-talkie’s squawked, signaling another call. Before the men dashed off, they quickly gave both boys Junior Fireman badges, Bobby for bravery, Zach for creativity.

I calledGoldie and told her about the boys and the patio umbrella stand before she heard it somewhere else first.

“They’re boys,” she replied. “This is only the start of the shenanigans they’re going to pull.”

Great.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you. I heard from Mary Trapp’s sister who is the hair dresser for Carl Winkler’s first wife. She’s the Fire Marshall’s godmother. They were at church together on Sunday and she found out?—”

Huh? “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m getting to it,” she scolded.

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