Page 43 of First Love, Second Draft

“Isn’t it great?” Gloria pointed to the gaggle of women, all probably around Gloria’s age. “I’m thinking next year we sell calendars. Who doesn’t love a fireman with a kitten?”

“What’s going on?” Matt asked again.

“Well, we weren’t seeing a lot of action this morning, so Wombat and I came up with an idea to drum up some business. People donate to the firehouse, and they get a ticket to enter a drawing for a date with a fireman. People donate to the animal shelter, and they get a cat. So far nobody’s gone for the cat option. Which is why next year I think we sell calendars and split the profits with the firehouse.”

“Gloria, are you telling me it’s been three hours, and we haven’t made a single penny for the shelter?” Thad was going to kill him.

“Of course not. I found a penny next to the fried onion stand and donated it to our cause straight away.” When Matt slouched, she swatted his arm. “I’m kidding. A few people have stopped by to donate. Emphasis onfew,” she added with a murmur.

“Hey Matt,” Wombat hollered over to him. “Why haven’t you ditched your shirt to come over here and pose with a kitty? Are you not man enough? Ouch, her little claws,” Wombat said in a voice an octave higher as he detached the black kitten from his shoulder with a wince.

“Well, you certainly look manly right now,” Matt said with a laugh.

Wombat smirked. “More manly than you in your Hello Kitty undies the other night.”

Well, that got everyone’s attention. “Hello Kitty what now?” Gus, the department’s fire chief, asked Sasha, the lone female firefighter of the group. She lifted her hands like she wanted nothing to do with this conversation.

Neither did Matt. “Let’s just move on,” he said.

“To the dunk tank,” Gloria shouted, pointing to the pool of water behind them. “Come on, boys. You know Mayor Abe always donates five hundred dollars to the cause of one’s choosing if they’re the first to try out the tank. Nobody’s done it yet.”

Of course nobody had. Not on a freezing day like today. A person would have to be nutso to even consider it.

And apparently Gloria thought he and Wombat were nutso. Her eyebrows bounced up and down. “Wombat? Matt? What do you say? We could find out right now which of you is man enough.”

As much as Matt appreciated Gloria diverting the conversation from his Hello Kitty underwear, he really didn’t want to spend the rest of the day recovering from hypothermia. The sight of the dunk tank alone dropped his body temperature at least five degrees.

“Go ahead, Wombat.” Matt nodded toward the tank. “Prove to everyone how manly you are.”

“Me? I ain’t got nothing to prove when it comes to my manliness. Besides, I don’t have time. I promised my grandma I’d meet her at bridge club this afternoon since they need a fourth player.” He handed the black kitten off to Gus as he scratched behind the kitten’s ears and said, “Bye-bye, sweet little angel baby face,” in a singsong voice.

“You sure you don’t need a dunk in the tank?” Gus muttered.

“Tell you what.” Wombat rubbed his finger down the kitten’s nose. “If Matt gets in the dunk tank right now wearing nothing but his undies—which may or may not be Hello Kitty, I guess we’ll see—I’ll adopt this sweet little angel baby face and tack on an extra hundred bucks to Abe’s donation.”

Gloria’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “Six hundred dollarsandone of our kittens gets adopted? Thad will be over the moon. What do you say, Matt?”

Whatdidhe say? He’d say this was crazy. Ludicrous. Insane.

But he’d also say it might just be impressive enough that Thad would consider giving Matt an actual paying job at the shelter. A little extra income would certainly help hold him over during the downtime between mowing and snow removal season.

Matt reached for his belt buckle. Looked like he was about to go pant-less in public again.

Thirty minutes later, Matt was really regretting his decision to take off his pants. His jacket. His shirt. His socks and shoes. Everything but his boxers—which werenotHello Kitty, thank you—for the sake of six hundred dollars and one single cat adoption.

Why did he think that was enough to impress Thad? Thad wouldn’t care. Nobody would care. Not even the animals at the shelter would care. He never should have agreed to this.

Because now look at him. He was freezing. Shivering. Possibly dying.

And nobody in this town could hit the broad side of a barn, let alone the bull’s-eye that would drop him into the tank and end this torture. Talk about terrible aiming. Where was Noah when he needed him?

One hit, people. That’s all. Then he could submerge into the glacial waters, lose all remaining feeling in his body, and be done. Abe’s deal every year was that in order to get the donation, the person sitting on the platform had to remain there until they got dunked—whether it took a single throw or a hundred. By Matt’s count, they’d reached over two hundred fifty million.

The next person in line stepped up. He had a dog next to him, wearing one of those service-dog vests. Wonderful. Probably a seeing-eye dog.

The man attempted his three shots, none of them any closer than when the four-year-old girl before him had tried. Matt was about to open his mouth and yell for mercy when the man stepped aside, and Matt saw the next person in line.

“Aim-m-mee.” His teeth couldn’t stop chattering.

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