Page 44 of Ignition Sequence

Beulah had also included Les’s one sexy bra and panty set. During her first year of medical school, they had visited a lingerie shop to buy a gift for a friend’s wedding shower. Beulah had talked Les into the satin bra and matching panties for herself, the former lifting and hugging her curves, making them far more noticeable.

“Beulah, I’m a farm girl,” Les had protested.

“So’s Daisy Duke, and she re-branded cut-off jeans for women everywhere.”

“Daisy Duke is a fictional character, and that’s an exaggeration. The women in Iran aren’t wearing these.”

“You don’t know what they have on under those robes. Maybe nothing at all.” Beulah had winked.

Her roommate’s outrageousness aside, Les really was a farm girl. But she was also a woman still vibrating from Brick’s touch and feeling out of her depth with him sexually. She was okay with him taking the lead on the stuff she didn’t totally understand, but when it came to wanting each other, she didn’t mind exercising some power to increase his male hunger toward her.

That bra would create deeper cleavage, an effect that made Les think of Brick’s trailing fingers there.

Fine, screw it. She donned the pretty underwear and pulled on a pair of jeans. The light blue denim was stressed at the creases, and hugged her ass in a flattering way, without cutting off her femoral artery. The V-necked tee she chose had white dandelion seeds swirling across the gray fabric, headed for the outstretched hands of a fairy. She was sitting in the cup of a daffodil, her body a white silhouette, her intricately veined wings folded over Les’s hip.

When she was little, Les had thought floating dandelion seeds were fairies. After she shared that story with Daralyn, her sister-in-law had found and given her the shirt as a Christmas gift.

She was already wearing a small pair of gold and silver toned hoops, pretty much the only earrings she ever wore. Since they worked with all of her outfits, it saved her the time of having to choose.

She also didn’t wear a lot of makeup for work, but she did put some on now. Especially after she found Beulah’s second note, which had a far different tone from the first.

Put on a booty-hugging pair of jeans, brush out your hair, and set that fireman ablaze. PS, when you get back, we’re going makeup shopping. This selection is sad. And ancient. Was Toys R Us having a ‘my first makeup kit’ sale, and your mother got you this to celebrate puberty?

“Bitch,” Les muttered, but her lips tipped at the corners. She hung up the rest of the shirts and put her socks, jeans and underwear in a drawer. He kept his guest room ready for its intended purpose. There wasn’t much in the closet, except several file boxes of paperwork. She suspected his primary guests were his family, because a collage frame up on the wall showed pictures of his parents and siblings.

Over the bed was an enlarged photograph of a harvested field at dawn, the fog resting on the browning and broken stalks of corn. It looked like the view from the back porch of his grandfather’s house, where the McGuires had lived until he passed.

The Brazinski’s oldest boy got married soon after the McGuires left, the newlywed couple then renting the property. They’d produced twin boys eleven months later. Whenever she mentioned them now, Elaine said they were total terrors, but she always said it with fondness.

When Brick checked on the property, she was willing to bet he tossed a football with the boys or told them fireman stories. And shared some lemonade or tea with their parents on the porch.

That pang hit her again, the desire to run home to that world. To her mother’s arms.

Maybe Brick had been the next best thing, the thing that helped her resist the urges of a child.

She pivoted away from the picture and headed down the stairs. Brick had finished his shower and was dressed and working at the kitchen table. It looked like he was going over that same case, the Whitfield fire. His mouth was a straight line, his eyes serious. She paused in the doorway, watching as he studied one of the photos, then looked at his laptop screen. He scrolled through the text, and highlighted three lines. Then he called up what looked like some other crime photos and increased the size, leaning in to peer at them more closely. Whatever he saw made his brow crease, his shoulders tighten.

“Everything okay?”

He glanced her way, pausing a beat to look her over. She slid a hand in her back pocket and leaned in the doorway, increasing the interest in his gaze. It felt good to get that attention, even as the shadows that had started to gather around her upstairs tried to pluck at her. You don’t deserve to feel good.

This isn’t about that. He said this is about gaining perspective, taking a step back.

He said it. You don’t believe it.

“We’ve logged two more witness statements, but I need to give them some space in my head, let them process.” He eyed her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Doing the same. If we’re picking up furniture near your office, can I see where you work? Maybe go inside?”

“We can do a drive by, but hell no to going inside. You’d end up warming a chair in my office for hours while I get sucked into whatever’s happening there.”

“I don’t mind if you need to work. I’ve got nothing but time today, and what I need to study is on my tablet. I’ll bring it with me. Since I’ve disrupted your work week, I should at least try to be a low maintenance date.”

He closed up the folder and laptop, dropped both into his briefcase and rose from his chair, picking up his keys. “Doc, you are high maintenance and disruptive for all the right reasons.” He nodded to a cooler bag on the table. “I put in a bottle of water and a snack for the road, to hold you over until we get lunch.”

As she picked it up, he gave her a more blatant perusal. “Looks like you had everything in the box you need.”

“Thanks.” She told herself she had to stop blushing around him, but her face warmed anyway, which flustered her on other levels. He brushed his knuckles along her cheek.

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