Hot Mess

by Anne Conley

  "You read?" She asked it a little louder than she meant to.

  "Is that hard to believe?"

  "No. Just curious."

  "Yes, I read." He sounded a little indignant, and it made Rachel smile. Before she could respond to his statement, the girls came into the room.

  "Mom?"

  "Yes, Sweetie?"

  "Can we go get something from Amanda's house? We'll be right back." Sophia's eyes were wide and pleading.

  "Sure you can." The girls turned to each other with knowing grins that made Rachel slightly uneasy, but before she could question them further, they were gone. She sighed to herself in resignation. Whatever.

  Turning back to the bundle of sex appeal in the chair across from her, "What do you like to read?"

  "Clive Cussler, John Grisham, Michael Crichton, action and suspense mostly. Do you read?"

  "Yeah. I read chick stuff, Amy Tan, Lisa See, Stephanie Plum. I hate Cussler."

  He looked affronted. "Why would you hate Cussler?"

  Now it was her turn to be indignant. "He's sexist."

  "Not since the big PC revolution. His sexist stuff is mostly in his older novels. He's no different from Ian Fleming."

  "I don't read him either." She turned her body slightly, nose in the air. She really hoped he realized she was messing with him, so she tried to add a teasing note to her voice. Could this be considered flirting?

  "But you watch the movies?"

  "Well, who doesn't?"

  Sam chuckled, and tingles went up Rachel's spine at the sound.

  "Yeah, I know. It's a double-standard. But it's hard to not watch James Bond. He's everywhere. And Daniel Craig is beautiful."

  His chuckle turned to a full on laugh, and Rachel had a little trouble breathing for a minute. The carefree transformation of his face was stunning. Daniel Craig had nothing on this guy sitting in her tiny living room, who had just kissed her into oblivion.

  To distract herself, she asked him, "So, what kind of movies do you like?"

  Sam opened his mouth to answer, but the sounds of the door slamming and small feet interrupted him. Sophia and Amanda came into the room, hands behind their backs.

  "Dad! We have a surprise for you," Amanda said.

  "Yeah, you too, Mom," Sophia chimed in.

  "What?" Sam and Rachel asked in unison, before looking at each other with grins on their faces. These girls were definitely up to something.

  "Come into Sophie's room." Amanda had grabbed Sam's hand with one of hers and was tugging him out of his chair.

  "Alright…" He muttered.

  "You too, Mom. Come on." Sophia waved to Rachel, who followed the trio down the hallway to her daughter's room.

  The girls had set up the Wii with one of the dancing games on it and gone across the street, apparently to get more remotes, so they could all four play together. Or dance together, as was the case in this game.

  "I don't know, sweetie. This may not be Mr. Owens' thing. We don't want to put him on the spot here." Rachel reprimanded Sophia, looking at Sam, who had a mischievous glint to his ever-ready smile.

  "I'm game if you are, Ms. Fairchild."

  Good Lord. This guy wanted to dance with Rachel and their daughters to some top-forty teeny bopper music?

  The girls squealed in delight, while Rachel programmed in the extra remotes, feeling a little stupid.

  As if reading her mind, he looked at her and quirked an eyebrow. "There is some classic rock on that thing isn't there?" Rachel couldn't help herself. She burst into laughter, and he smiled at her, obviously pleased with himself.

  "I think there might be some eighties stuff, but that's probably about as close as your gonna get, I'm afraid." Handing him a remote, they allowed the girls to position everybody in the pink bedroom that was too small for four people to be dancing in.

  "Mom, you get to pick the first song, okay? We'll take turns."

  "How many times do I have to dance?" Having previously sounded confident in his dancing skills, Sam's voice was now cautious.

  "Don't worry, Dad. We'll go easy on you." Amanda had to stand on her tiptoes to pat her dad's shoulder patronizingly, and Rachel stifled a giggle at Sophia's obvious glee.

  "Don't hold it in, Rachel. Guffaw all you want." Sam had seen her hide her mouth behind her hand and was smirking at her good-naturedly.

  "Alright, Sam. But just so you know I'm good at this game. I hold no prisoners."

  Sophia nodded. "She's right. She beats me all the time."

  "Then this should be fun." Sam's voice had lowered in timbre, and Rachel felt a flush of heat crawl up her face as he openly perused her. She glanced at the girls, who were oblivious to the sexual tension sparkling around them, getting in place while Amanda picked out a song.

  "Here's an old one for you, Dad." A cartoonish man wearing a purple leotard with a red cape came up on the screen and started gyrating his hips to the opening riffs of Rick Astley. Rachel jumped into the familiar dance routine, watching Sam out of the corner of her eye.

  The man seemed to revel in his ridiculousness. It obviously wasn't his first time with the game. Amanda must have it at home as well, but as athletic as he was, he wasn't hitting the marks with the dancing. Rachel grinned widely, as he swung his hips off the beat and did disco moves that weren't on the screen, singing along with the song. He saw her watching him and threw in a suggestive body roll that made Rachel blush.

  When Rick was finished, Sophia chose a song by One Direction that Rachel rocked at, putting the other three to shame. They each had a turn to choose a dance. Each song, Sam clowned while he sang in a warbling voice, earning giggles and laughs from the girls, Rachel included. There was something heart-warming about watching this extremely grown man trying to make the girls laugh. He was like an over-grown child, and Rachel could feel the fondness for him grow, much against her will.

  As the dancing wound down, Rachel and Sam made their excuses and went into the kitchen, where Rachel breathed heavily while getting them some ice water. Sam had worked up a light sheen on his brow dancing in the tight confines of the room, which intensified his strong forehead and crystalline eyes. Rachel turned her back to him to fix the water and didn't notice when he sidled up behind her.

  "That's always a great cardio workout." His voice in her ear made her jump, spilling water down the front of her shirt. She didn't turn around though. She just stood there, willing him to stop breathing on her neck. Instead, she took a deep breath in, and inhaled a musky man scent that almost buckled her knees.

  She thrust the glass of water over her shoulder at Sam, who didn't take it. Instead, he put his hands on her waist and forced her to turn around and look at him. He pulled her closer, as he lowered his face toward hers. In spite of herself, she leaned toward Sam, her eyelids lowering, preparing for another kiss, at the same time, yelling at herself not to let it happen.

  When her wet breasts brushed against his chest, he chuckled. Rachel's eyes flew open and when they did, he kissed her nose.

  "This is a great beginning. Don't you think?"

  Again, she pushed the glass of water at him. "Here." When he released her to grab the glass, she pushed away and went back into the living room. Out from under his influence, where she could continue the conversation about books and movies. About safe things.

  They continued talking and getting to know each other, and Rachel continued to forget why she had sworn to never do this with a man. And it was okay that she forgot, because she hadn't enjoyed herself so much in a long time.

  From Remainingrachel.com

  Two Stepping: Two steps forward, one step back, why do I feel like I'm someplace different?

  So, there's a man in my life. Nothing's happened with him, yet,(except a first-class kiss) and I'm not sure that anything ever will (but the kiss will live on in my memory forever). The possibilities are fun to imagine, aren't they?

  To be honest, the possibilities scare me to death. He's attractive, and he seems to be attracted to me, but
any relationship will lead to sex. And to be honest, even though my viral load is still undetectable and I possess a very small risk of transmission (not to mention using condoms!) the thought of having sex with someone scares me! It has been a long time, and I just don't know how I feel about it. Plus, I may have to change treatments, get used to new side effects, and change my habits. And he doesn't know.

  I just can't help the thoughts that run around inside my own head. Even though I'm smart, educated, careful, and under treatment, I still feel dangerous. Sex with me is risky, especially now that my viral load is detectable.

  I've always said it's important to be honest to any potential mates. Having sex with a negative person without telling them you're positive is not only unethical, but illegal in many states. I personally don't even want to get that far into a relationship without telling someone, but I've never let myself get there.

  I'm afraid of the rejection. I'll admit it. I'm afraid of rejection. Let me say it again, just to make it clear. I'm afraid of rejection. I don't like being defined by my disease. Even though I'm an advocate online, very few people in my non-cyber world know that I'm HIV positive. In fact, including my family, I can count them all on one hand. How's that for coming to terms with myself?

  I'm pathetic. I know.

  So, in addition to finding out at my last doc's visit, that my levels are going down (still undetectable, thank God), I've met a man that I would like to get to know better. Everything's changing for me. As much as I hate it, I've got to get used to it.

  Change is the name of the game. Hopefully, I can make this a good one…

  Chapter 8

  Once thought to be simply a gift from the gods, combustion is now understood to be a complex chemical reaction. From Firefighter's Handbook, Essentials of Firefighting and Emergency Response.

  Sam hadn't seen Rachel in a week, but that didn't mean that she was far from his thoughts. Rachel and that kiss.

  That kiss had almost been his undoing. He hadn't gone over there with the intention of kissing her senseless, but he couldn't control himself. In fact, he'd wanted to push her down on the sofa and do so much more, but he'd managed a little self-restraint.

  He couldn't remember having that much fun just talking to a woman. They had talked all afternoon, the girls doing some girly thing together in Sophia's room, coming out for snacks and then going back in to the princess parlor, giving him and Rachel lots of time to get to know each other.

  Dancing with Rachel and the girls had overwhelmed him, in a good way. He grinned at the memory. Rachel had smiled throughout the entire experience, and her smile lit up her face and sent a hot rush through Sam's body. Her laugh took over her entire body, throwing her head back, and shaking her shoulders. In addition to that, Amanda had more fun than Sam had seen in a long time. Sophia was great for Amanda. Something about the little girl with pig-tails was drawing Amanda out of the shell she had crawled into when her mother died. Sam wanted to spend every spare minute he had at Rachel's house, but he could tell she was scared, and he wasn't going to push things. He liked her more than he'd liked a woman in…well, ever. And he didn't want to fuck it up.

  Now, he was still trying to get used to his new sleep schedule. Forty-eight hours on, then forty-eight hours off. So far, so good. After the first night, which had been abnormally quiet, he'd been out on at least six runs a shift.

  Thankfully, his new crew had accepted him as a transfer and wasn't trying to put him through the wringer once they got through the first two weeks of pranks.

  His crew now, was JT, Justin, Mike, Juan, Cade, Morris, Derrick and Dave.

  JT was a bear of a man, taller even than Sam, and bigger around, though not as muscular as Sam. The man was strong as a bull, though, and testy as one, if he didn't get a cup of coffee before the first call-out.

  Mike was a young guy, early twenties, maybe. His blonde hair was cut in a crew cut, and his eager blue eyes belied an innocence that Sam knew would be gone soon, if he stayed with the career he seemed so proud of.

  Juan was a short, stout Hispanic man with a goatee. He was a lifter, too, and he and Sam had become work-out partners, pushing each other to lift more, become stronger.

  Dave was quiet, and when he wasn't working out solo, he was reading or playing solitaire. He was quiet and intense, but Sam figured out really quick that he could be counted on to perform under pressure, as could the rest of the crew.

  Justin was loud and obnoxious, but a good firefighter and worked well with the team on calls. Morris, the oldest, had been with the department forever, it seemed, and he liked to kick people off their cooking detail, if he didn't like the food. Sam felt confident that he would be kicked off soon, unless Morris was in love with breakfast.

  Derrick was taciturn most of the time, and seemed to be a hot head, both in and out of the field. He had lightened up a little, but Sam still hadn't gotten the scoop on him and Brenda, and any history they may have had.

  All in all, he was satisfied with the bunch, and felt a sense of pride at having a group of capable men he trusted to work with.

  It was two thirty in the afternoon, and he knew that Rachel would be waiting in line to pick up Sophia. His gut burned when he thought about her and not in a bad way. Apparently, his thoughts were a little transparent, because Juan pulled up a chair next to him, sitting in it backwards.

  "Who is she, bro?"

  Startled, Sam looked up at his new friend. "What?"

  "You sound like a little girl over here, sighing and shifting. You thinking about a woman, I'm thinking. Who is she?"

  "My neighbor. I was thinking about texting her."

  "Ooohh. How romantic." Juan's eyes lit up, and he pulled an imaginary pencil from behind his ear. "I'm going to take notes, you got skills."

  "Whatever, man."

  "You wanna lift some?" Juan prodded.

  "Sure, give me a minute." Sam pulled out his cell phone and sent Rachel a text. What's for dinner, hot stuff?

  He waited for a reply and didn't have long to wait. His phone dinged a minute later.

  R U fishing for an invite?

  Do I need to?

  What do you like to eat?

  Anything but chili. I'm sick of chili.

  LOL. How about pasta primavera?

  Sounds almost as delicious as you. He could see her blush in his mind, and it made the anticipation of seeing her tonight even greater.

  What time?

  I get off at six and will pick up Amanda on the way. Is that okay?

  Of course! See u then.

  Can't wait.

  He put his phone away, but before he and Juan could get started on their work out, a call came in for an address that was already familiar to Sam. Being a firefighter meant that there were a certain number of "regulars" on the job. Sam had already met a few, Mrs. Brigsby being one. Another regular was Mr. Norton, who had emphysema and COPD, coupled with panic attacks. Like Mrs. Brigsby, he donated regularly to the fire department's fund, and thought that that meant he'd "bought" their services. So he had them on speed dial.

  Apparently, Mr. Norton thought too much, and while thinking, he would get himself worked up into a panic attack, and lose his breath. Then he'd think he was having a heart attack or something and call the fire department. About once a week, Sam and Juan, along with Derrick and Cade suited up and drove to his house to attend to his panic attacks. All they had to do was administer some oxygen to the man, who swore that his personal oxygen bottles were diluted somehow because he couldn't catch his breath with them.

  After calming Mr. Norton down, the men returned to the station in time for shift change, and Sam rushed out the door to go to his date at Rachel's house for dinner.

  Brenda met him at the door to his house, as if she'd been waiting for him. He mentally slapped himself. He'd forgotten to text her to let her know not to make dinner. Not that it was in her job description, but she'd been cooking for him when he came home from his shift so that she could save him and Amanda from
frozen pizzas and ramen noodles.

  "Geez, Brenda. I forgot to tell you, I've got dinner plans tonight." He felt bad when her face fell. "You know, you don't have to cook for us. That's not part of your job. I just need your supervisory skills. Pick Amanda up, drop her off, make sure she doesn't bleed out while I'm at work. Cooking for me isn't necessary." He tried to be gentle, but he didn't want her to get the wrong idea, either.

  "That's okay. I know. I'll just put it all in the fridge for tomorrow. You can heat it up." She turned, without meeting his eyes. "It's nothing that won't microwave." He noticed she was wearing extremely short shorts and a tank top that revealed more than it hid, but she seemed so disappointed about dinner, that he didn't have the heart to tell her what he thought about her clothing choices.

  "I'm glad. Thank you. I'm sure it's delicious." He walked down the hallway to Amanda's room and knocked. "Punkin? We're eating with Sophie tonight."

  A squeal greeted him, before the door flew open and his daughter darted past him and down the hall to the front door.

  "Wait for me!" He hollered, turning to find Brenda. "Lock up when you leave, 'kay?" Brenda nodded, keeping her back towards him, and Sam wondered how bad she had it. Shaking his head, he turned and went to go cross the street to Rachel's house.

  Sophia opened the door before they had a chance to knock, and Sam wondered how much oxygen these girls wasted with their shrieking squeals, as they ran back to Sophie's room to do whatever they did back there.

  He found Rachel in the kitchen cutting up vegetables, wearing an apron. The domesticity vibe she was giving off was making him want to sit her up on the countertop and have his way with her, but the shrieking that was still emanating from the princess room curtailed his thoughts.

  "I don't know anybody who wears an apron anymore, with the possible exception of my grandma." He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist, smelling her neck before planting a chaste kiss on her collar bone. He was immensely proud of his restraint.