Page 16 of Memories with Fire

Carter. His name is Carter. I should probably keep that in mind if I’m planning on introducing him to everyone today.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I lean a hip against my car, staring across the street at the boardwalk. It’s mostly closed right now, given it’s only February. A couple of the restaurants run all year round, explaining the delicious scent in the air. The rides and concessions are open on weekends, but besides that, the park is closed through the week until May when school lets out and the weather starts getting really nice again.

This is where I’ve met each blind date my mom has set me up on. There are always people milling about, especially in the park and near the restaurants across from it, making it feel safe. Whether it is, I’m not sure. But I haven’t been kidnapped from this parking lot yet.

I’m hoping tonight keeps that streak going.

I can imagine this area in the height of summer just by standing here. Bright lights, blaring music, the sound of teenagers screaming as they get the thrill of riding a number of rides. The whoosh of the rollercoaster, the hydraulics of the Double Drop, the whir of the Ocean Motion.

My eyes close and I inhale deeply, smelling the churros from my memory. My absolute favorite. The boardwalk comes to life in the picture of my imagination, the warm wind of a summer night caressing my cheek. There’s an arm around my waist, a hand at my hip, the crinkling of paper as someone beside me finishes their own churro and leans over to try and take a bite of mine.

Breathing in sharply, my eyes snap open, my stomach flipping with what I’d equate to excitement, but can’t be. Green-blue eyes swim in my vision even with my eyes open, two dimples popping out at me.

Luke.

Damn him. Invading my mind, my memories. I’ve worked so hard to keep him out for ten years, but of course being here would bring things back up. Across from the place we fell in love all those years ago, and with him back in town.

I’m an idiot. Why did I agree to meet my date here, of all places? Why have I always chosen this place?

There’s no time for me to contemplate the question as a vehicle pulls up next to me, grabbing my attention. It isn’t the red truck that Carter sent me a picture of, but a silver Jeep that looks an awful lot like the new addition at the fire station when we’re on shift.

But it can’t be.

Except…

No.

Doing a double take of the man behind the wheel, my eyes widen—first in horror, and then anger. What the hell is he doing here?

It’s got to be a figment of my imagination. My memories pulling up what they think I want to see. There’s no way Luke is climbing out of his vehicle right now, dimples popping as he smiles at me, green-blue eyes dancing with mirth. Even ten years later I can’t decide on an official color.

Panic grips me. My date is going to show up at any moment.

“You need to leave!” I tell him as he rounds the front of his Jeep. Taking a step towards him, I shoo him back in the other direction with my hands. “Go away! I’m meeting someone and I don’t need you here when he shows up.”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke says, ignoring my waving hands. He stops near the front of his vehicle, leaving a couple of feet between us. “Your blind date.”

Balling my hands into fists, my first thought goes to Quinn. “I’m going to kill her. She told you?”

“Who?” Perplexed, his head tilts to the side. Then it must dawn on him because he shakes his head. “Quinn? No. She has no idea I’m here.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

“Funny story.” Those stupid dimples pop a little more as his grin ratchets up a notch. “I’m your date.”

I take a step back, though it’s not voluntary. It’s like the words physically pushed me backwards. Shaking my head, I try to wrap my brain around what he said. “No, you’re not. Carter. Carter is my date. He drives a red truck and has a beard and lots of tattoos and is definitely not you. You are…”

Looking him up and down, my tongue sweeps across my lips without permission. Fitted black jeans, a tad distressed around the knees, with a white t-shirt under an open button down that’s black with white stripes crisscrossing through its entirety.

It’s the first time I’m seeing him in street clothes in ten years, and he’s just as hot now as he was back then. Damn it.

“I’m what?” he asks, and I’d swear his voice dropped an octave.

Shaking any improper thoughts from my head, my eyes meet his again, my hands balling at my sides again. “You are not Carter.”

Luke clears his throat, as if he also needed to be pulled back to the present moment. “Right. Carter. You recall my cousin from ten years ago?”

“You do not get to bring the past up—wait,” I cut myself off, his words registering. I take another step back from him, my forehead scrunching. “What did you say?”

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