Page 2 of Smoke and Fire
At some point.
In some distant, faraway history.
An uncomfortable feeling grew inside me, like itchy wool lined my stomach.
“Sorry,” I whispered to the book. “I’m sorry. I want to love you, but I alsodon’twantto love you. You’re not real and I don’t want hope. Hope sucks. I’m not so good at forming my own path, you know? I fall into the first guy that shows me romance and I let them take over my life . . .” I shrank smaller, poked the book with my index finger, and said a gentle, “Sorry.”
Love is a Terrible Nightmarefolded back together in protest of my rejection and sat there with a silent huffof annoyance. My gaze slid back to the ugly column of fire yet again. Speaking ofactualpowerful forces . . .
Should I call Bethany and ask what was going on up there? The fire blazed somewhere in the canyon between Pineville and touristy Jackson City. What would Bethany be able to do about it? Nothing. If anything, I should call the fire department.
Really smart,Inner Me drawled.Cuz they can’t see that towering pillar of destruction smack dab in the middle of the sky.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
Fire.
Blech.
In the evergreen mountains that wrapped around Pineville like long, lush arms, fires were portent to disaster. At least, that’s what my favorite male cousin, Sione, said a few weeks ago. Pineville had only been home for a little over a month. No, my stopping point. Right now, there was no home until I figured out where my life would go next.
And that was just fine.
I pointed to the smoke with a firm growl.“You stay over there.” I jabbed a thumb to the espresso machine, where I stood behind the coffee shop bar. “I’ll stay here. We’re square. Got it?”
The plume ignored me, but the book stared while I bustled around. I absolutely didnotthink about Amalia and Rodrigo. Or whether Rodrigo would return home from the war an altered man, but one willing to understand the real depths of Amalia’s love for him. I mean, how could he not?
“By heavens, Rodrigo!” I cried, unable to help myself. “She bloody loves you, man. Get over your own pride!”
Unable to avoid another moment without knowing their fate, I snatched the book off the counter. Within moments, swirls of unrealistic romance captured me. Reluctant reader or not, I couldn’t peel myself away from the pages. To make matters worse, no one wandered in for a coffee, so I sipped my own and devoured each and every word.
Twenty minutes later, a green bus-like truck parked near the edge of the lot. The words PINEVILLE HOTSHOTS were painted across the top in blocky black letters. The fire department lived next door, and with it, a building that held the crew of fire workers in the summer and their office in the winter.
“Ominous,” I sang as I peered at the truck over the top of my book, thoroughly distracted from the hunky men in the book for the potential in real life.
Thought relationships had no part of our world right now?Inner Me chimed in.
“Looking,” I murmured, “does not a relationship make.”
Outside, grungy men spilled out of the bus in matching yellow jackets, green pants, and haggard expressions. They huddled together in a meeting while the bus hissed and turned off. With a sigh, I shoved a napkin into the pages and set the book aside. Rodrigo and his fiery kisses would have to wait. Now, I could play my favorite game.
Match the drink with the drinker.
“Cappuccino for thatguy.” I eyed a tall, lanky figure with a scraggly beard. Had it been set aflame on one side? “Espresso for Mr. Scruffy next to you, sir. Black, no creamer, and one sugar for Mr. Short-and-Scrumptious.”
The concoction game amused me until one guy stumped me. I frowned, straightening. Broad-shouldered and tall. He had messy blonde hair and a thick beard, with piercing eyes and skin tanned to a golden hue around his neck and face. Hints of chest hair peeked out of the neckline of a sooty yellow shirt.
Plain black coffee?
Meh.
He seemed like he’d have a sweet tooth. Definitely nothing too sweet, like a frap. Maybe a macchiato, but that didn’t fit either. Before I could peg him down, the hotshots grabbed heavy bags and headed toward the fire department.
Bemused, I forced myself away fromLove is a Terrible Nightmareto do the maintenance log on the fridge and a few checks. I would notbe caught derelict on duties while reading a romance novel.
I had my pride.
An hour later, the crack of the door brought me out of my reverie. With a squeak, I whirled around and shoved the book to the side.
