Page 4 of Fire and Ice
Archer braced one hand on the bright red truck. “She’s one hell of a beauty.”
A cool late-November breeze swept over Grady as he stared out the garage bay to the street. Instead of the long concrete driveway, he saw Chelsea gliding on the ice. “She makes figure skating look like an art.” He turned his gaze to Archer. “Which it is. To compare her skating against others is like comparing a Monet to a five-year-old kid’s crayon drawing.”
Archer nodded. “I’ve seen Chelsea at the rink. She’s definitely still got it.” He looked thoughtful as he took his rag and polished off the handprint he’d just put on the truck. “A shame she had to leave competition when she was in her prime.”
Grady cocked his head. “Why is that?”
“I’ll let her tell you about it.” Archer shrugged. “From what I’ve seen of you, you don’t let anything stand in your way when you want something. I’d bet you’ve already asked her out.”
Grady noticed a dull spot on the truck’s grill and polished it with his rag. “I’m that obvious, huh?”
“Like the Empire State Building grew legs and moved to downtown King Creek.” Archer slapped Grady on the shoulder. “You couldn’t have picked a better woman to ask out.”
Grady snorted. “I’m surprised she hasn’t been snagged by now.”
“Not from a lack of trying.” Archer set his rag on a worktable. “I’ve heard plenty of guys have asked her out, but she turns most of them down.” He cocked his head. “How did you get her to say yes?”
Grady tossed his rag next to Archer’s. “Didn’t give her a chance to tell me no.”
“So that’s the secret.” Archer smirked. “I’ll have to try the Grady Donovan Method next time I find a woman I want to date.”
Grady couldn’t help but grin. “It’ll get you a date at least two out of ten times.”
Archer went to the industrial sink and started washing polish from his hands. “I’m betting your success rate is closer to a nine.”
Grady paused to look at the pair of red, white, and chrome trucks that gleamed in the sunlight pouring in through the open garage door. “All I care about is that woman calling me.”
“You didn’t get her number?” Archer asked.
Grady shook his head. “I told Chelsea I left mine with Bette and to get a hold of me this afternoon as long as?—”
The alarm blasted, drowning out the rest of Grady’s sentence.
“—as long as I don’t have to go out on a call,” he finished. He groaned even as he rushed to get into his bunker gear.
Chelsea tossed the potholders onto the island in her spacious kitchen as she moved away from the oven’s heat to the kitchen table next to the bay window, where her sisters sat. Anneka and DeAndra had dropped everything at their respective homes and came straight to Chelsea’s place the moment she said she planned to make the cinnamon rolls she had promised. She made them every year for the holidays, decorating the iced buns with pecans and bright red candied cherries.
Anneka and DeAndra were grown women out on their own, yet to Chelsea, they were still her kid sisters.
It might be late fall, but the central heating and baking made things toasty in the kitchen. Warm smells of cinnamon rolls, fresh out of the oven, teased her stomach.
She had left the dress shop she owned early and came straight home to make the rolls for her sisters. She had promised them a week ago, and she always kept her promises.
As she braced her hands on the back of an empty kitchen chair, she wondered if Grady would be one of the firefighters to show up if her kitchen caught on fire. She almost laughed at her ridiculous thoughts.
Yeah, that man flipped her switch. However, she’d been thinking it over, and she really needed to flip it off again.
Anneka slouched in her chair, her gaze shifting from Chelsea to DeAndra and back. Anneka furrowed her brows, her shoulder-length mahogany hair swinging to the side. “Have you heard from Brad and Joe?”
“A week ago.” Chelsea nodded at the mention of their twin brothers, who were both staying in Brad’s Phoenix apartment now that they were on break from their respective universities. “They were headed out of town to go camping. You’d think they would be back by now.”
DeAndra gave a slow nod as she pushed long hair, a deep shade of copper, from her face. “Yeah, but remember they’re men, and they’re camping. The male brain short-circuits when it involves the outdoors and hunting.”
“That’s not surprising.” Anneka snorted. “The male brain goes on vacation when he’s driving to the freaking grocery store.”
Chelsea laughed and ran her palms over the smooth wood of the chair back as she stood behind it. “How’s online dating life?”
Anneka rolled her eyes. “Met Mr. Oh-So-Wrong, but what’s new?”
