Page 4 of Frosting and Flames

The question slips out unbidden. Why would he want to hang around here? This place has to hold painful memories for him.

Does he… Could he still feel guilty about what happened? Is this penance?

One of his arms comes up to rub at the back of his neck, his tattoo on display again. It’s a Celtic band design, dark against his tanned skin. I shiver thinking how much it must have hurt to get that on the sensitive underside of his arm.

“Never mind.” There’s something almost like disappointment in his voice. “Have a good rest of your day.”

I move aside and he leaves, walking down the street toward the fire station a couple of blocks away. It’s not until he’s out of sight that a thought occurs to me. Shouldn’t he have come in the fire truck? And dressed in full gear? And shouldn’t there be other firefighters here? Sure, Aurora’s department is small, but I’d assume… Actually, I don’t know much about the fire department.

I lock the door and put Nick out of my mind. I have more pressing matters.

The conversation goes silent when I return to the kitchen, and just as I’m about to ask Sydney and Hailey exactly what happened, Jae asks, “Who was the firefighter? I haven’t seen him around before.”

She’s looking at me, but I turn my gaze toward the fallen cupcakes. I hope the frosting doesn’t stain the tile grout.

“That’s Nick,” Hailey says cautiously when I don’t answer.

“He couldn’t take his eyes off you, Rachel,” Jae says, and I nearly snort. She was in the room with him for about three seconds.

“I’ve been telling her she needs to get back out there after all the shit Kyle pulled,” she says to my sisters. “How do we feel about Nick? Good guy? Bad guy?”

Sydney and Hailey exchange an uneasy look, then direct their attention to me, waiting for my cue.

“What am I missing?” Jae asks, picking up on the tension.

“Nothing,” I answer, but even I know I said it too quickly to be believable.

“Do you have history? You know I love hot goss.”

“There’s no history and let’s drop it.” She opens her mouth to retort, but I steer her out of the kitchen and back up front. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I need to clean this up.”

“I can help—”

“No, you go home and enjoy the rest of your weekend. I’ll catch up with you later.”

I unlock the front door and practically push her out.

“Rachel—”

“The bakery is my problem to deal with. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

Her lips twist but she nods, probably recognizing how stubborn I’m being.

I lock up behind her and return to the kitchen, glad to see Hailey already using the wet/dry vacuum on the powdery messand Sydney picking up the cupcakes. Rolling my shoulders, I attempt to release some of the growing tension. This entire place needs to be scrubbed top to bottom. We’ll need to toss any exposed food or ingredients in case they’ve been compromised. Depending on how much it is, I may need to put in an extra supply order this month.

There goes my day off.

I wet a clean rag and join Sydney, wiping up the globs of frosting on the floor.

“Tell me what happened,” I say once the vacuum turns off, doing my best to keep any anger or judgment out of my tone.

It takes Sydney so long to answer, I almost repeat myself before she asks in a small voice, “Are you mad?”

It’s so unlike her to care about my opinion, I nearly laugh until I catch myself. Sydney is bold and brash and doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of her.

But fires don’t inspire normal reactions in the Blackwell family.

“No,” I tell her, finding it’s true when I say it aloud. “I’m glad you and Hailey are safe.”

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