Page 2 of Last First Date
I sigh. “Mother, I don’t even know any men like that. The only guys I ever meet are the other firefighters at work. And honestly, most of them think of me as one of the guys.” I pick at my fingernails as I squirm under the harshness of her icy gaze.
She reaches toward me and grips my chin, her long fingernails digging into my skin uncomfortably. “Maybe you should stop dressing like one of the guys if you want to be taken seriously, Darcy. Both at work and as a woman.”
Ugh, I hate this moment so much. Why didn’t I wear one of those stupid sweaters that she’s always giving me?
She clucks her tongue before continuing. “I heard that there’s an opening for a lieutenant at the main station. You’ve had plenty of experience now and I expect you to get that promotion.”
“Mom,” I wriggle uncomfortably in her grasp. She can make me feel like a little kid with dirty fingernails with only the tiniest bit of effort. She does this to everybody so I probably shouldn’t take it so personally, but I wish she didn’t have to dig in to me here and now in front of the guys.
“Please,” I whine at her, pulling back from the sting of her grip. I feel like she’s about to come at me with a spit-covered finger and try to tame some stray hair or clean up a dirt smudge.
She lets me go, but then grabs me by the wrist and drags me over toward the crowd of half-naked firefighters in turn out gear. It’s a little embarrassing to be that close to so many oiled-up versions of the men I work with from time to time, but alsoyes please.
I nod to one of the guys I know from another station. “Daniels, nice to see you. Even if it is so much of you.” The other guys hoot at my teasing and scramble all over each other to elbow at him.
He flushes for a second but recovers by reenacting a few Magic Mike moves in our general direction. And now I remember why I’m oh-so-very single.
I want to cover up my haughty mother’s disapproving eyes so she doesn’t have to witness the overtly sexual rolls of his hips, but I also need to have a free hand to take a swing at him so that’s going to have to happen first.
“Hey, what was that for, Albrecht?” He rubs at his pecs, where my sharp blow landed.
“Quit shaking your tragic little Vienna sausage at my mother, you nasty, nasty boy.” The group of men surrounding us make that “ooh” noise, but quickly quiet down when I sweep an angry look at them. What a bunch of rowdy little kids they are sometimes. They know better than to act like this in front of my mother.
In the silence that follows, a man’s laugh rings out. I turn my head to fix a fierce look on the offender with every intent of chewing him out too, but the man who’s laughing isn’t one of the group of shirtless firefighters.
Instead, it’s a pale, skinny man in a dark t-shirt and a black leather jacket. His hair is just a little bit too long, and I catch myself staring at all the angles of his face before my gaze drifts to his hands, which are wrapped around a camera that costs more than I make in three months. I have to force myself to close my mouth, which has been hanging open at the sight of him.
“Darcy Albrecht, meet Hesse Kotner. He’s the artist who has volunteered his photography skills for our fundraising project.”
His laughter stops at last, but his eyes are still glittering with mischief and humor. He rakes his fingers through the long strands of his hair, then reaches out and lifts my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it.
Wait, is this guy serious? I am definitely not the hand kissing type. I don’t even know anyone who is the hand kissing type. Except apparently this guy, who’s also sporting a watch that costs more than the entire fundraiser will likely generate.
“Mr. Kotner,” I say, my voice shaking a bit as I pull my hand away from him.
His lips quirk up. “Miss Albrecht.” Then he nods to my mother as if they’re actual friends. “And Miss Millicent. We’re almost finished up here, if you pretty ladies want to have lunch after.”
“Lunch?” I choke out. “What lunch?”
My mother pats my hand, the one that Hesse just grabbed away from its safety zone and planted his lips against. “Don’t mind her, dear boy. She’s just a little flustered.”
Then she drops my hand like a hot potato and lunges for him instead, looping her arm through his at the elbow and pulling him closer.
“There’s a darling little tapas place just a block or two from here. Once you’ve wrapped up your project here, let’s all sit down and we can catch up over some sangria.”
Millicent von Albrecht lives to do lunch. She is the perfect socialite, always dressed to the nines and ready to be seen anywhere important and be photographed at a moment’s notice.
As for me, I’m wearing a pair of jeans that are grubby enough to stand upright without me in them and a tank top that bares my muscular arms. I don’t even own make-up other than mascara and a little lip balm.
And knowing what I do about my mother, I’ll need a shower, a makeover, and a visit from a personal shopper before I’d even be allowed into whatever place my mother had in mind.
I want to sigh, but I also know it would only make things more tense with my mother. She has enough complaints about who I’ve turned out to be, and how often I disappoint her without me also getting chewed out for having bad manners on top of everything else. And heaving the giant sigh that’s welling up in my soul won’t get me out of whatever awkward lunch date she has planned anyway.
The door at the rear of the room bangs open, and a tall man with a three-piece suit struts in like he owns the place. Wait, does he? I look him over trying to place him, but I am about 99% certain he doesn’t own the building where we’ve set up for the photo shoot. But he’s obviously somebody, or at least he’s acting like he is.
Daniels calls out to the new arrival, “Nice of you to show up, probie.” He starts a round of sarcastic sounding applause that the rest of the shirtless men pick up and echo.
Wait, hold up. The guy in the business suit is a new recruit? I need to find out what firehouse he’s working out of and get on their payroll immediately.
