Page 10 of Fire and Icing

“The firehouse.” I mumble the phrase so it sounds likefurfurhsss.

“The firehouse?” Sydney cracks up. “Oh, girl. You’ve got skin in the game alright.”

“I’m thanking the guys for saving my house.”

“And saving your life.” She winks.

I nearly roll my eyes for the second time in one morning.

“If only Paisley were here, I’d do a ride-along,” Syd laments. “Actually that’s what aCLOSED, BACK IN …sign is for.”

Paisley is one of our part-timers. She’s a sweet homeschool girl in high school. She comes in to help out during days we need an extra hand and regularly on Saturday mornings.

“Nope. I’m good. I don’t want to rush those moms out the door when they’re having such a sweet time over pastries,” I gesture down to their table. “I’ll be right back. Just dropping these off and coming back. Yep. I’ll be … right back.”

I grab the box of donuts and start to head through the shop to my car.

Sydney shouts after me, “Bring back a photo of the rookie. Just sneak one on your phone. I’m on my naturalist kick.” She pauses. “You know I’m fixin’ to be a tree-hugger!” Her laughter follows me out into the parking lot.

I can’t help but smile.

For some unknown reason, my stomach breaks into a flurry of butterflies at the thought of pulling into the fire station.

Chapter 3

Dustin

You never get a second chance to make a first impression,

but you can always make a lasting one.

~ Unknown

I’m washingthe truck out front in the driveway of the fire station when a woman drives up and parks. She bends in to pull something out of her front seat, and the moment her head appears over the roof of the car, I recognize her. That red hair. Those piercing green eyes. Am I imagining being able to see the color from here?

Emberleigh.

She rounds the car with a bakery box in her hands. I haven’t seen her since the fire. I’ve wanted to pop by the bakery to check on her, but there’s a fine line between appearing compassionate and coming across unhinged. I already rubbed her the wrong way the day of the fire. I need to tread lightly.

Emberleigh walks toward the station door with a familiarity and ease that tells me this isn’t her first visit.

“Good morning,” I call out with a welcoming smile on my face.

Emberleigh barely glances in my direction. At the last minute, she turns toward me, nods her head in acknowledgement, and then she keeps walking toward the station door.

“Here. Let me get that for you,” I offer, dropping my hose and running ahead of her to open the door.

She doesn't exactly glare at me, but she passes by with a look that’s less than grateful for my help. I’m sensing a theme here.

“Whatcha got in the pink box?” my mouth asks without consulting my brain.

Because if my mouth were to consult my brain, it would hear something likeShut it, Dustin. Give the woman some space!in a tone that very much resembles my sister, Mitzi.

“Snakes.” She keeps walking. “A box of snakes.”

She jerks the box in this quick forward motion toward me and then pulls it back and I think I glimpse the slightest upturn of amusement on her lips for a split second.

“I love snakes,” I say, following her into the kitchen of the firehouse like a lost puppy.

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