Page 42 of Spark
Chloe laughed, flopping down to her couch and texting a shrug emoji.
Chloe: You have a valid point.
Tyler: Speaking of the party, you’re not working on those favors by yourself, are you?
She looked at the box at her feet, along with the other four just like it, and dodged like a pro.
Chloe: Would I do that?
Her phone rang in her hand less than five seconds later.“Hate to call you out, Ferguson,” Tyler said in lieu of hello, “but you and I both know the answer to that question is one hundred percent yes.”
“Ouch,” she muttered, then caved because she had no game face and he knew the truth, anyway.“Fine.I’m working on the party favors.But they’re the last thing on the list, and anyway, it keeps me busy.”
“Okay.I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“What?”Chloe asked through her heartbeat.
Tyler—no great surprise—was entirely calm in his reply.“You shouldn’t be busy alone.Plus, the Burrito Hut is probably still available.Better not to risk it, don’t you think?”
“You’re going to bug me until I say yes, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely,” he promised.“And now it’s nine minutes.”
She gusted out a laugh.“You are maddening.”
“Did you want to talk the whole way?Because I’ve got”—he paused—“eight minutes and fifty seconds to kill.Your call.”
“Very funny.Buzz me when you get here,” Chloe said, hanging up.She shot a gaze around her apartment, mentally tabulating the time it would take to get both it and her presentable, then quickly giving up.She settled for trading in her sloppy bun for a tidier version, swiping on some lip gloss, and shepherding the dirty dishes from her sink to the dishwasher.True to his word, Tyler rang the security buzzer ten minutes later, and two minutes after that, he was on her doorstep.Smoothing a hand over her mostly clean tank top, she unlocked the door and swung it open.
“Hey,” he said, one corner of a smile on his mouth as he met her eyes.His blond hair looked both styled and tousled at the same time, his shoulders and biceps duking it out for which could look more biteable beneath his soft white T-shirt.His jeans hung just right on the frame of his hips, the worn denim hinting at the muscles underneath, and all thoughts vacated her brain, save one.
Thirst trap, thy name is firefighter.
“Hi,” she managed, the sight of what he held in his hands releasing her from her sudden jangle of nerves.“Seriously?”
Tyler arched a brow, passing over the package of cinnamon rolls and the bottle of juice.“Tell me you ate dinner, and I’ll happily take them back.”
Chloe opened the juice and took a long swig, so she didn’t have to answer.“You know you didn’t have to come help me with these party favors.”
“Yup,” he said, and funny, he wasn’t deterred.
“Suit yourself.Can I get you anything?I’d hate to drink alone.”
She tipped her juice at him, and he grinned.“Water would be great.I’m on shift tomorrow.”
“You got it.”
Chloe headed for the kitchen, still aware of Tyler as he scanned the open floor plan of her apartment.From the corner of her eye, she watched him take in the light blue walls, the multi-colored throw pillows on the couch and both chairs, and the bookshelves she’d overstuffed with cookbooks and romance novels.She’d needed a safe space to heal after everything that had happened with Myles Bishop, so she’d taken a lot of care in turning the new-to-her-at-the-time apartment into a sanctuary of sorts.The place wasn’t fancy or huge, but with her collection of vintage bakeware and milk glass mixing bowls on the kitchen shelves, the cream-colored French oak floors, and the plush, patterned area rug she’d never regretted splurging on, to Chloe, it felt cozy and safe, like home.
“Last time I was in this place, it was full of moving boxes,” he said, gesturing around the space.
She popped the fridge open to grab a bottle of water and laughed.“God, I almost forgot Ryan roped you into that.”She’d been so raw in those first few weeks after being stalked, most of it had been a blur.
“It was no big deal.”Tyler tipped one shoulder up, then pointed to her favorite comfy chair by the window.“Except for that thing.Thatwas a pain in the ass.”
“Do not speak ill of my chair.It may be ugly and weigh a metric ton, but it’s beyond comfortable.Plus, Gary lives under there, and you don’t want him on your bad side.”
Tyler’s brows moved downward.“You have a cranky man named Gary living under your chair?”
