Page 11 of Five Alarm Kiss

When the cheering got louder, Jake somehow found the strength to end the kiss.

Laurel’s hazel eyes went from dreamily reflecting the stage lights in the flecks of gold around her irises, to panicked. Her legs dropped from around him, and she kicked her small feet, searching for the ground. As soon as he set her back on the dance floor, her hands flew to her head, and her cheeks burned red.

“Oh, fudge!”

She instantly dropped to her knees, leaving Jake with all sorts of inappropriate scenarios running rampant in his head.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Laurel started searching the floor in a panic. “My hat! Oh, fudgesicles! Where’s my hat?” She crawled through the crowd, frantically looking back and forth, oblivious to the multitude of people trying their best not to step on her.

Jake cleared a perimeter around her, then reached down, took her arms, and lifted her to her feet.

She stared at him with wild eyes. A split second later, she pulled her sweater up over her face as high as she could get it to go. “Don’t look at me!”

Look at her? He couldn’t see her save for her… yellow hair. Hmm. She had lemon yellow hair. With her conservative attire, he definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“Are you looking?” Laurel asked.

“Why don’t you?—”

“Don’t look!”

Unfortunately, her squawking caused the exact opposite result and drew the attention of everyone on the dance floor. A couple people pointed and a few snickered, but Jake guessed it had more to do with the fact her entire sweater was covering her head like a bad impression of the headless horseman—with a yellow waterfall coming out of his neck—and less to do with the actual color. Lots of people had brightly colored hair, Laurel’s purple-haired friend included. Difference was, Laurel was self-conscious about hers. Obviously, the bright hue hadn’t been her end goal.

Jake scanned the nearby area and spotted the lost, pink baseball cap behind a girl to his left. He retrieved it and held it out to Laurel, who, of course, couldn’t see it through the tan cable knit smothering her face. He grinned as the soft, “no, no, no” mantra she was chanting sifted through her thick sweater.

He put the hat on her head—well, the only part of her head he could see—and pulled her sweater down to her nose. That was the furthest he could get it to go, since she held it in a death grip.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “You’ve got your hat. It’s all good.”

Her hands flew to her head, and the neck of the bulky sweater slipped down to her chin.

“‘All good’?” Laurel’s face was as red as a fire truck.“‘All good’?”she sputtered. “You don’t look like… like…” She flailed her hands around her head, as if that would make the description she couldn’t think of magically appear.

“Lemon meringue?” he suggested.

Her eyes widened to the size of an anime character’s.

Okay, wrong thing to say.

Laurel spun around, wobbled like a toddler who’d barely learned to stand, then scurried off the dance floor. She made a weaving beeline to her friend who was waiting by Jake’s table, along with the blonde they’d been sitting with earlier.

He followed.

“I want to go home!” Laurel sobbed. “He said I look like a pie!”

What? No, I didn’t. I said?—

“A pie?” Skye sounded dubious.

“I love pie,” the blonde next to her chirped.

“I didn’t say ‘pie’,” he clarified upon reaching them.

“I don’t want to look like a pie!” Tears were rolling down Laurel’s face.

His chest constricted at the sight. “You don’t look like a pie.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping to comfort her. “I said…”Lemon meringue. Fuck, that’s a pie!“Laurel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

She slapped his hand away with a repeated dog-paddle motion. “Calling me a pie was mean!” she shouted. “Puppies aren’t supposed to be mean!”

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