Page 31 of Love Resurrected
I grunt at her in return. Whatever she’s saying doesn’t warrant an actual response anyway.
“I see you are back to your usual grunting instead of actual words in a conversation.”
Now she’s gone too far.
“I carry on conversations,” I protest.
“Mmm,” she grunts. I laugh, despite myself.
Nessa looks up from her stack of papers. “Children, behave.” Her tone is gentle, but still firm.
I feel properly chastised.
Make an effort, dickhead.
“Do you want me to start at the top and just work my way down?” I ask Tenley as I gesture to my list.
“Sort of, I mean I think the most important thing is to outline why someone would even want to be a firefighter, right? Then we can design some marketing around that and get it circulating.”
I nod. “Makes sense.”
“Okay, then. What makes being a fireman desirable?” She turns toward me as she asks this, long legs crossed, pen poised and at the ready, notebook perched atop her knee.
“Desirable?” I scoff.
“Yes. Why would someone want to do it?”
“Best fucking job there is. No two days are the same, never chained to a desk . . .” I look down at that, realizing I am, have been, and will continue to be chained to a desk until I change my attitude. Or was it my outlook? Personality? Work ethic? One of those was in question and is to blame.
I look back at Tenley. She smirks in response.
Anyway.
“Let me rephrase. When you don’t have repeated fuckups, like me, then you aren’t chained to a desk, selling your soul from nine to five every day.”
“What have you done to fuck things up?” she asks, her eyes wide. I think she expects me to tell her, which amuses me.
I rear back my head. “Pfft, I’m not telling you that.”
She looks down at her notebook, then back up at me. “Okay then, we havebest fucking job out there,no two days are the same,never chained to a desk unless you are Brad Mathews. Anything else?”
Smartass. She almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
“Yeah, the whole ‘putting out fires’ thing? Biggest threat to homes, land, forests, wildlife. Not to mention saving lives, first responder to any accident or dangerous scene.”
She taps her pen against her lips. They are full and just this side of pink. If I were a different person and in a different situation, I might find them attractive. Kissable even.
“Okay, but are those reallydrawsto the job?”
I’m having a difficult time pulling my attention from her mouth. The way it moves as she pronounces different words and letters. How her pen bounces back when she taps it against her bottom lip.
“Brad?”
“What?” I jerk my gaze back to hers.
“Are they?”
