Page 21 of Mom-Com
I sighed and rolled my eyes again, but went over all the awkwardness with Jameson, leaving out the muscles I’d felt and seen when I’d touched him and he took his shirt off the other day. That part was irrelevant and quite frankly, embarrassing. When I’d tried to watchBeauty and the Beastlast night before bed, I’d actually been comparing Gaston’s physique to Jameson’s. When I realized what I was doing, I turned it off and proceeded to toss and turn for far too long. His buttonless shirt sat on my dining table, mocking me.
“Hmm.”
That was all Gabby said when I got done with my Jameson interactions. Which was strange. She usually had a litany of commentary, even when I didn’t want it. When the silence stretched out, I launched into the stuff that mattered: my next moves.
“So, I looked up the fire stations around here and I Googled how to safely have my car break down on purpose. Jameson is picking the kids up from school tomorrow, so I’ll use that free time to see if I can snag the attention of a hot firefighter.” I got a little thrill just thinking about that one.
This was another reason I’d made up my mind to try this little husband-finding experiment. I wanted to have some adventure. I wanted some old-fashioned, innocent ways to meet a man. Well, mostly innocent. Aside from my fake car problems. What would a little white lie matter at our fiftieth wedding anniversary, you know?
At my advanced age of thirty-two I didn’t even care so much about looks. I mean, I did, let’s be real. But what I really wanted was a good, solid man to make me his everything. And what better place to find a selfless man than at a fire station?
“Oh, Lils. I sure hope this doesn’t backfire.” Gabby barked out another laugh. “Get it? Backfire?”
I snorted. “You’re a legit comedian, Gabs.”
Silence.
“Hello?” I asked when she didn’t answer. “You still there?”
“Sorry. Just writing up article number four already. Gotta go, babe.”
“Yeah, okay, love you too. Thanks for wishing me luck.” My sarcasm must not have registered because all I heard was a soft click as she hung up. Dang, she was super focused on the article series. I hoped I hadn’t miscalculated when I said yes. I had kids to think of. I’d have to move in the middle of the night and put them in new schools if people found out I was the subject of her stupidviraldocu-series.
* * *
I sat at the curb, my SUV idling for ten minutes before the gas light came on. Thankfully, the fancy gadgets in cars these days tell you exactly how many miles you can go with the gas that was left in the tank. Looking at my maps app, the fire station was 9.6 miles away. When the car dash said ten miles was left in the tank, I pulled away from the curb and drove in the direction of the station.
Some would say this was stupid at best, dangerous at worst. But I had a cell phone with a full battery charge and I had pepper spray in my purse. And it was broad daylight in Costa Mesa. I was pretty sure I was as safe as any other day driving in SoCal traffic. Maybe some extra water would have been good in case of a long wait, but I had a bit of this morning’s coffee in my travel mug. Now I just hoped the firefighters were all there at the station, not out at an actual emergency.
I sat forward and gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white and my hands got slippery with sweat. Just as the station came into view, my car started to lurch. My eyes widened and I tried to control my breathing. I was a little shocked that this scheme of mine was going to work. At least the breaking down part.
Letting my foot off the gas, I coasted in front of the station right as my car gave one final jerk and stalled out. I put it in park and took one final deep breath. Time for my acting skills to take over. I looked around wildly and threw my hands up in the air like I just didn’t care. No, wait. That was from some ridiculous song Clark listened to. I threw my hands up in the air like I didn’t know what to do.
I was just about to hop out and pop the hood when there was a knock on my driver’s side window. Nearly hit my head on the roof from jumping so badly. I placed a hand on my chest and cracked the window when I registered it was already one of the firefighters at my door.
“Having some car troubles, miss?” He flashed a smile and I wasn’t having to act anymore. I was genuinely flustered and atwitter. Holy testosterone.
“Ah yes, yes, I am. Not sure what happened, but it just died on me.”
Another brilliant smile. Damn, the man had a dimple. “Why don’t you step out and I’ll see what I can do.”
I smiled what I hoped wasn’t a devious grin. Forcing my movements to slow down so I didn’t appear overeager, I grabbed my purse. He stepped back and I opened my door. Expecting cologne or a delicious sweaty male smell, I got a lungful of swamp. I nearly gagged. Looking down, I’d parked right over a storm drain. Just my luck.
Breathing through my mouth, I went to push up to standing when a work-roughened hand appeared in front of me. My smile grew as I placed my hand in his and accepted his help. I straightened up and looked up through my lashes to see Jameson standing before me, a frown pulling his dark eyebrows together.
I shook my head, thinking maybe I was dreaming. Or more like having a nightmare. Where was my dimpled hero?
“Jameson?” I pulled my hand from his and rubbed it against my prettiest dress, refusing to enjoy the way his skin felt against mine. I was thoroughly confused, but all I could think about was how nerdy Professor MacMillan managed to get callouses.
“I was just a few cars behind you with the kids when we saw your car pull off. What happened?”
Hyperaware of an audience, I swiveled my head and found the firefighter back up on the curb, his arms crossed over his chest, watching our interaction, dimple nowhere to be found. One of his buddies walked out of the station to stand by his side. It was like a factory of hot men in there, spitting out a new one every few minutes. Dammit, Jameson!
“Um, well, I’m not sure. It just kind of died.”
His hands landed on my hips and he just kind of placed me out of the way so he could climb into my car. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being moved like that.
“When was the last time you gassed this thing up?” he called loudly from inside the capsule.
