Page 2 of Merriment and Mayhem
Everleigh looked pointedly between the oven and the now-empty fire extinguisher lying on its side in the middle of the floor. “Besides the obvious?”
“Even if we weren’t the ones to put out the fire, I’ll need to fill out an incident report,” the captain said. “Whatever details you can give would be a big help.”
Everleigh rubbed her eyes and sighed. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could start cleaning, and the sooner she could fall into bed and get to work repressing the memory of this very bad, no-good day. “I was baking. Cookies. Gingerbread cookies.”
The redheaded firefighter, whose coat hadMillerstamped across the back, reached inside the oven and pulled out the charred baking sheet destined for the garbage.
Brantley whistled. “I’ve seen my fair share of kitchen disasters, but I don’t think I’veeverseen anyone screw up cookies this terribly. I mean”—he poked a vaguely briquette-looking lump on the pan with a gloved finger—“these are hockey pucks.”
Miller chuckled. “Like you’re one to talk, Probie.”
He pointed a finger in Miller’s face. “Once, Wendy. I set off the fire alarm at the station one time, and you assholes never let me live—”
“Boys,” the woman with the braid—Chen, according to her coat—chided. She squinted at the pan, then looked at Everleigh, a twinkle in her dark eyes. “You ever heard of that showNailed It!on Netflix?”
Her face burned and she averted her gaze, avoiding the curious eyes of the four firefighters whose undivided attention she had, whether she wanted it or not. “I’m not usually this hopeless in the kitchen, okay?”
Miller rifled around inside his pants’ pocket and pulled out an odd-looking wrench. He unfolded it, and with one hand gripping the top of her refrigerator, rose onto his toes, pressing the curved tip of the tool against the hush button on the smoke detector. After a few seconds, the chirping stopped, and Everleigh could hear herself think again.
“Unfortunately, I can’t writeacutely hopelessdown on the incident report,” Captain Keegan teased. “Any idea how the fire started? Was it spontaneous or ...?”
Everleigh cringed. “I’m pretty sure the baking sheet might’ve been too small.” Honestly, how was she supposed to know the cookies were going to spread like that? “And I think there might be something wrong with the oven.”
One minute, everything had been fine, and the next, Everleigh had smelled something burning. She’d rushed into the kitchen to discover thin wisps of black smoke seeping out from around the oven door and up through the burners on the stovetop. Like an idiot, she had panicked and done the one thing they told you not to do: open the oven.
From there, a series of unfortunate events had transpired, escalating in awfulness. The door was too hot to touch, and she couldn’t locate a single pot holder. The thought of kicking the oven closed hadn’t even occurred to her, frazzled as she was, this being the first fire Everleigh had encountered outside of campsites and candles and fireplaces. By the time she’d found the pot holders—for some reason, Grandma Dangerfield stored them in the spice drawer—the flames had started to lick at the bottom cabinets.
In keeping with the running theme of the night, the fire extinguisher hadn’t been in the kitchen, but Everleigh had vaguely remembered coming across it inside her grandmother’s closet. Herupstairscloset. The safety pin on the thing had been jammed, because of course it had, and by the time she had managed to yank it free, the fire had engulfed the bottom cabinets entirely, spreading rapidly up the wall and licking at the frilly lace curtains framing the window over the stove.
She was lucky it hadn’t been worse, honestly.
“If there wasn’t something wrong with it before, there definitely is now.” Firefighter Brantley ducked down and peered inside with a frown. “Oh, yeah. The element in here’s fried. This thing’s cooked.”
Miller chuckled. “Literally.”
Everleigh rolled her eyes. “No, I meanwrong, as in the broiler came on.”
“You’re saying it came on by itself?” Brantley asked, sounding skeptical.
She crossed her arms. “Mm-hmm.”
“Hmm.” He nodded slowly and lifted a hand, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Almost like it had a mind of its own.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Exactly.”
“So it wouldn’t have anything to do with that knob there”—he pointed at the stove—“being set toBroil, notBake?”
Miller did a piss-poor job of covering his laughter with a cough.
She shot him a weak glare, her heart not really in it, and swallowed hard. “I didn’t do that.”
Shetotallydid that.
“Of course not.” Brantley’s lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. “I’m sure your sentient oven decided to set itself to broil specifically to sabotage you in your baking endeavor.”
Wow.“Says the guy who set off a fire alarm inside a damn firehouse,” she muttered, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”
His smile broadened into a full-blown grin that did riotous things to Everleigh’s insides. “Maybe because itisridiculous?”
