Page 2 of Wrong Number, Right Firefighter
“It’s pronounced Blunt,” the guy said.
I narrowed my eyes, my brows knitting together. This guy was definitely rude. Maybe I should ask to speak to his manager. No, I didn’t want to be that kind of person. The kind they made fun of on social media for throwing a fit at the slightest provocation.
Pro-vo-ca-tion. That was a funny word. Why wasn’t it pro-ca-va-tion?
Yeah, that was definitely the tequila talking.
“Ma’am,” the guy said, voice flat. “This is the fire hall. Are you reporting an active fire?”
I blinked, confused. “A fire?” I looked around the cabin just to be sure. “Oh! No, I mean—just in my stomach. I’m starving. I was trying to order a pizza.”
There was a pause on the other end. A long one. I shifted on the couch, trying to focus, but my head felt floaty. The margarita was working overtime now, and not in a fun way.
“This number is listed under Hartsville Pizza,” I continued, pointing at the binder, even though he obviously couldn’t see me. “Right under ambulance and fire. So, really, not my fault.”
“This is the Wildwood Valley Fire Station. We don’t sell pizza.”
“Well, that’s misleading,” I muttered. “I mean, unless you’re offering to come here and bake one for me.”
“Are you alone right now?” he asked, way too calm.
I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, wow. We just met.”
“That’s not what I meant. You sound…off.”
“Off?” I scoffed. “Excuse you. I sound delightful.”
He ignored that. “What’s your name?”
“Are you even allowed to ask that?”
“You called me, remember?”
I let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. It’s Camille. But that’s not me admitting guilt. I stand by my binder.”
“Okay, Camille.”
He said my name more slowly this time. Like he was testing it on his tongue.
I suddenly felt very warm. Unreasonably so.
“Can you do something for me?” he asked. “Put your phone on the charger. Drink some water. Don’t leave the cabin.”
“That’s three things.”
“Please.”
I considered. “Only if you agree that labeling this number as pizza delivery is a crime against hangry women.”
“Deal.”
I nodded solemnly, even though he couldn’t see that either. “Okay then. I’ll stay right here. But if I pass out from low blood sugar, that’s on you.”
“I’ll take that risk.”
“I really wanted bacon.”
There was a quiet sound on the other end, like maybe he was smiling. Or maybe I imagined it.
