Page 22 of Flirting With Fire
I was being truthful about forgetting, but I wasn’t about to tell her why. I’d forced myself to shove those memories deep down inside where they would never be unearthed, like an empty treasure box that was no longer of any use.
She smiled. “Then you’ll consider showing Meyer the cottage?”
I dropped my shoulders and let out a sigh. At this point, how much worse could things get? I could tell it meant a lot to Lindy for some reason.
“Of course. We’ll figure out a time for Meyer to stop by.”
Meyer entered the room. “Stop by where?”
Lindy turned to Meyer, excitement shining from her eyes. “Dex’s guesthouse. He says he’d love to have you there!”
Meyer locked eyes with mine as if to say, ‘You did?’.
I let out a shaky laugh. “We should probably keep the champagne corked until Meyer can look it over.”
“Oh, you.” Lindy laughed as she looped her arm through Meyer’s. “Why don’t we have some of that delicious cake?” She regarded me with a furrowed brow. “Do you think you can swallow okay?”
If I’d had another piece of meat in my mouth, I’d be choking on it again. Meyer regarded me with a smirking grin.
“He’s a tough guy, Mom. I’m sure he won’t have any trouble at all.”
Yup. Mortified.
Chapter Seven
Meyer
Yawning, I took my cup of coffee and piece of cake onto the stoop to watch the morning sunrise over the butte. I shivered in the cooler air, glad I’d put my hoodie on. In an hour it would be too warm to wear it, but I appreciated the drop in temperature of the fall mornings.
It was rare I had the chance to see a sunrise as I was usually either working or sleeping. Today was my first day in my new firehouse, and I was going in later. I appreciated the time just to relax before I started the day. Dex’s barbed comment about being in a small-town firehouse the previous day still niggled me. It wasn’t like I’d had the same thoughts. Ihadgiven up the promotion of my dreams in Chicago to return home. But the second I’d found out Mom was sick I hadn’t given it a second thought. There would always be another promotion, but there was only one of my mom. Losing my dad had taught me family came first. The heart attack that took him away from us had been out of the blue. The widowmaker, they called it. My mom told me there was no way Dad could’ve ever survived it. It wasn’t comforting, but he didn’t suffer.
I was still processing the previous evening if I was honest. It had been such a rollercoaster of an evening that I felt like Iwas still catching up now. I hadn’t slept most of the night. I’d given up about six and rolled out of bed to make a pot of coffee, tiptoeing into the kitchen so I didn’t disturb Mom.
As I watched the sun peek over the butte, I wondered what was going on in Dex’s head. He seemed determined to attack me at every opportunity. Not for the first time since I arrived back in Charming, I wondered what I’d done to upset him. I was going to find out what was causing the bug up his ass. He loved my mom. What had I done to deserve his ire?
I sipped at the hot coffee, appreciating the warmth as the caffeine burned through me, then nibbled on the cake. Breakfast of the gods, even if I would have to run ten miles to work it off later. I doubted I’d be doing as much exercise at work as I had in the city. It stood to reason it would be quieter here. I ate more cake. It was my first day, sue me.
I thought of Dex because, of course, my thoughts turned back to him and his muscled frame. He had muscles from manual labor, not grown in the gym. My mouth watered at the thought of running my hands over his solid frame. I sighed and drained the last of my coffee. Like I’d get a chance to do that. The one hot gay guy in this tiny town, and he hated my guts. The confusing thing was he expected me to know why, and I honestly had no clue.
The kitchen door opened behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see my mom standing there in fleecy pajamas with a flying saucer motif.
“Cake isn’t breakfast food,” she scolded.
I was about to hang my head when she produced two more slices behind her back and handed one to me with an impish grin.
“You were saying?” I took a large bite of cake.
Mom waved a hand. “It’s your first day.”
“You bought Devil’s food cake for my first day of high school.” I smiled at the memory.
“And your first game as captain and when you came home to tell us you’d gotten your first firehouse.”
I shook my head. ‘It all seems so long ago.”
“It seems like yesterday to me,” Mom admitted.
We ate our cake in companionable silence, then she brushed the crumbs from her fingers and looked at me. Uh-uh. I knew that look. I was in trouble for some reason. I hadn’t been up five minutes. Her next words confirmed my suspicions.
