by Hart, Emma
Okay. That was better.
Focusing on all the things that were weird about the fact none of my high school clothes had been thrown—
Wait.
My high school clothes.
I walked over to my closet, then paused. This was a stupid idea. Not only was I at least fifteen pounds heavier than I was eight years ago, fashion had evolved. All I needed to do was look at the corkboard above my desk to know that some fashion was not timeless.
There had to be something, right? There was no guarantee that what Ava was bringing would even suit me, considering we had different styles. She favored bright, flirty, girly things, especially for dates.
I favored black.
I grimaced. Then I opened the closet door. The worst thing that could happen would be that I’d find nothing, and that wasn’t exactly going to put me in a worse situation than I was already in.
I had nothing as it was.
It smelled ever so slightly musty, but that didn’t seem like anything that couldn’t be fixed with some deodorant and air freshener.
Air freshener? On my clothing?
Desperate times and all that.
I rifled through the hanging clothes. Maybe there really wasn’t anything in here. I wasn’t exactly known as a partier in high school. There were a few things from college mixed in here, too, and that makes me perk up slightly.
My college style wasn’t quite as bad as the high school one…
I dug in even farther. There was a clothing bag in the very back, and when I grabbed for it, there were several hangers inside.
Hmm.
I pulled it out and laid it on the bed to open it. The first thing that caught my eye was the bright red of my prom dress from my pre-purple hair days, and the next was the black dress that peeked out from beneath it.
Thanks to the bag, these clothes smelled a lot fresher than the other ones. I pulled the black dress out and laid it on top of the prom dress. It was simple but figure-hugging, and I chewed down on my bottom lip.
I had no idea if it would fit.
A glance at my phone told me I had fifty minutes to get ready and another five before Ava got here. That gave me just enough time to try on this dress and, if I looked like a stuffed sausage, nobody would ever know.
I quickly stripped down to my underwear and snatched the dress up. The zipper was at the side, so I undid it and stepped inside to pull it up my body.
It was a little snug, but not uncomfortably so. It took a few good yanks to get it up. In all honesty, I probably should have given up somewhere around my hips.
Reagan Wright was no quitter, though.
Unless it was the gym. Which, according to this dress, I shouldn’t have given up.
How ironic.
With a grunt, I pulled the straps up over my shoulders. It didn’t look too bad, actually, especially not after a tug on the zipper. Sure, I wouldn’t be able to eat or sit down or breathe all night if I wore it, but…
But nothing.
It had to come off.
I couldn’t go to dinner and not eat just because my dress was too tight. I wasn’t living in the nineteenth century, after all.
I reached around to undo the zipper, but it only went a third of the way down. I tugged and yanked and pulled, but it was no good.
The bitch was stuck.
Great.
Just great.
There was no way in hell that I was going to be able to get this thing over my ass without the extra room the zipper provided. This dress was like Spanx, but ten times worse.
I breathed in as much as I could, but it was no good. The thing wouldn’t budge, even when I pulled so hard the metal pressed into my fingertips and pretty much branded me for life.
Why the hell had I put this on?
Stupid fire. Stupid brain. Stupid date.
Mercury had to be in retrograde. That was the only explanation for all these stupid decisions.
A knock rattled my bedroom door. “Reagan? It’s me.”
“Ava! Thank God! Get in here!”
She shoved the door open before freezing. “What the—”
“I’m stuck.” My voice was little more than a squeak. “Help.”
She brought her hand to her mouth before coming into the room and dumping an entire armful of dresses onto my bed. “Here. Where’s the zipper?”
“On a train to hell!” I moved my arm so that she could access it. “It won’t move.”
“I’ll try.” She crouched down and wiggled it about. “How are you breathing in this dress?”
“I’m not.”
“Why did you put it on?”
“Because I’m an idiot.”
“Not arguing there,” she muttered, wedging the zipper up a little. “I think it’s getting caught in the fabric. I need to get my hand in there to make sure it doesn’t catch.”
“Your hand? What do you think my armpit is? A petting zoo?”
“Do you want me to get you out of this dress or what?”
“Fine. Put your hand in there and finger my ribcage.”
Ava rolled her eyes as she wiggled her fingers under the fabric of the dress.
Was this how turkeys felt on Thanksgiving? It wasn’t pleasant. It did actually feel like I was being stuffed, except nobody was going to cook me to put me out of my misery when it was all said and done.
“Got it!” Ava pulled the zipper down with a triumphant whoosh and stepped back. “Burn that dress.”
“My dresses burning is why I’m in this situation!” I yanked the sleeves down and freed my arms from the fabric prison before I rolled it up and tugged it as hard as I could down my body until it fell to the floor. I stepped out and kicked it toward the wall.
“Yes, well, you’re welcome for saving you.” She pulled her black hair up into a messy twist. The hairband snapped against her hand as she finished up and moved for the clothes. “Right. We have forty-five minutes and you look like you just went five rounds with a heavyweight boxer.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s not a compliment.”
“I know, but it’s sarcasm or I hit you.”
“Mm.” She eyed me. “Let’s get to work.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
NOAH
Lady And The Firefighter
I put my truck into park and breathed out a huge sigh. I was running late thanks to some paperwork I had to do before I left work, and I’d barely had time to run home, change, and get back here as close to seven as I possibly could, and that didn’t even include sorting Poosh out.
It was why my hair was still wet.
I turned and looked at the house. I knew I had to be a gentleman and go to the front door to collect Reagan, but I wasn’t sure I could cope with another interrogation from her great-aunt.
Or her mom, for that matter.
Still… I had to.
I got out of the truck and did my best to avoid the nerves that were bubbling up inside me. I’d been on a few dates since I’d moved here, but none of them had been with someone I actually fucking liked. I hadn’t gotten to know any of them well enough to say that I actually liked them and maybe had feelings for them.
Not like I had with Reagan.
I was all too aware of the voice in the back of my mind. It kept reminding me of how I felt about her—of how much I’d smiled since I’d accidentally texted her.
I locked the truck and headed toward the front door.
“Shut up!” The front door quickly opened and closed, revealing Reagan in all her glory. She spun around, her purple curls flying, and stopped when she saw me. Her red lips parted before she quickly pressed them together again. “Hey.”
“Hey.” My lips curved into a smile and I reached out to take her hand to help her down the steps. “You look beautiful.”
She blushed, and it somehow brightened her eyes. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
I looked down at my outfit—a white shirt and black pants—and
gave her a tiny bow. She laughed and let me keep hold of her hand until she was safely in my truck. I pushed the door shut behind her and walked around to my side.
“All right, how do I get to Mario’s?” I glanced at her. “Can you put it into the GPS?” I tapped the screen in the dashboard and brought up the GPS menu.
“Sure.” Reagan pulled her phone out of her purse and unlocked it. She swiped the screen a few times before she tapped a zip code into the screen. “There we go. It’ll take us just up the street from the restaurant.”
“Perfect.” I flicked on the blinker, checked my mirrors, and pulled away. “How was your day?”
“Long,” she replied, pushing some hair behind her ear. “Aunt Bethel needs to get away from the order book with her doctor’s handwriting.”
I laughed. “I did hear that conversation when I was in the store.”
“Mm. She’s getting it confused with her own personal calendar. I had to stop into the store and buy her one on my lunch break today.” She peered over at me. “I booked in a funeral for next week and she’d written in her fucking dentist appointment.”
I scratched my jaw and desperately tried not to look at her. If I did, I knew I’d fucking die laughing. I didn’t exactly know her aunt, but from the two times we’d met, I wasn’t all that surprised.
“How’d she take the new calendar?”
“About as well as if you’d tipped a wheelbarrow full of cow shit on her head.”
“So… She took it well, then.”
Reagan barked out a laugh and dropped her head back so it rested on the headrest. “Oh, my God. Don’t even. She hasn’t stopped ever since we closed the store. I’m not allowed to work a full day yet and it’s driving me crazy.”
“They’re looking out for you.”
“Don’t you start. I’ve had it all day from my brother reminding me of that when he came in to do deliveries.” She shuddered. “I know they are, but I’m going stir crazy not being able to do anything. I just want to get back to my normal life, you know?”
I gave her a sympathetic smile. I did know. “When do you see your doctor next?”
“I don’t have anything booked. Why?”
I pulled up at a red light and looked over at her with a sly smile. “Go see your doctor and get a full check-up. When they tell you that you’re fine, there’s no need for them to keep you at home anymore.”
She reached over and clasped my arm. “Oh, my God, Noah. You’re a freaking genius.”
I clicked my tongue and winked at her before pulling away and making the turn toward the road that would take us to the coast. The GPS said it was only a few minutes from here.
“I try,” I said once we were past the intersection. “There’s no chance of you getting a break until then?”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I think I’m just too independent to be living with my parents, my aunt, and being told I can’t work.”
“You want me to keep breaking you out? I’ll do it. I’ll even buy you extensions so you can hang out of your window and—wait, no. If we play Rapunzel, I’d be going into the house rather than getting you out, and that defeats the object.”
“You just said ‘play Rapunzel’ and all I can think about is role play.”
“Your hair is the right color for the Disney one.”
“How do you know that?”
“Do you know how many classrooms I’ve visited to teach kids about fire safety?” I raised my eyebrows as I made the turn toward the restaurant. “I know all about princesses and dinosaurs and unicorns and fuck knows what else.”
Reagan smirked. “That’s kinda hot.”
I chuckled. “You know what else is hot? We’re here.”
I swear she almost groaned in delight.
“Thank God. I’m starving. Let’s go!”
***
Reagan smiled at the waiter as he filled her glass of wine. I held up a hand and shook my head when he moved to do the same to mine. The last thing I needed to do was get drunk and have to leave my truck out here.
There was always the chance I’d need to get to work quickly. That was the thing with my job—I was always on call, even when I wasn’t supposed to be.
“I don’t have to have another,” Reagan said, the full glass in her hand.
I smiled at her. “Go ahead. He’s poured it now. Besides, I’m driving.” I raised my iced water. “You were right about this place. The food is amazing.”
She nodded and took a sip. “It’s the best Italian place around here.”
“Isn’t it the only Italian place?”
“All right, Mr. Pedantic.”
I grinned and leaned forward on my forearms. “You want dessert?”
She looked me up and down and wiggled her eyebrows. We both laughed at the same time, and she pressed her fingertips to her nose as if that would make it stop. “No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?” I brandished the dessert menu card. “He left it when he filled your wine. We may as well take a look.” I lifted it in front of me and read it out. “Ice creams. Tiramisu. Cannoli. Panna cotta. Something I… can’t pronounce.”
She covered her mouth with her hand and peered at me through her lashes, her eyes shining with the laughter she was desperately trying to repress. “I gathered it wasn’t your strong point when we were ordering earlier.”
It wasn’t my fault that all the people who worked here were Italian.
I pointed at her. “Look. I learned Spanish in school, not Italian, and I’ve forgotten every fucking word anyway.”
“Fair point. What else?”
“Basic desserts. There’s a hot chocolate fudge cake served with—”
Reagan shifted. “Share it?”
“Sorry?”
“You wanna share one?” She propped her chin up on her hand. “It’s really good, but it’s pretty sweet. I’m not sure I could eat a whole one.”
“Very romantic.” I smirked and motioned for our waiter, who arrived as if he had a teleport pad ready and waiting. I pointed to the entry on the menu and said, “Two forks, please.”
He nodded and took the dessert menu from me. He gave a small bow and disappeared.
Something buzzed from the other side of the table, and darkness flashed across Reagan’s face.
“That is your phone, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She blinked at me. “And it can keep ringing.”
“You can answer it. I won’t be offended.”
She sighed and reached into her purse. Pulling out her phone, she pursed her lips. “Halley. Unless my brother has been hit by a car, I don’t really care.”
I laughed. “Just answer.”
“Sorry. What?” She held the phone to her ear. “I’m on it, Halley… Wonderful. I’m glad Ava shared that with you… Do you mind? ... Is Preston dying? ... Right. Are the raccoons dying? … No. Lovely. The only reason you should be contacting me right now is if you have a picture of Betty’s babies to share with me… Right. Get lost, then.” She pulled the phone down and hit the ‘End Call’ button before swiping again. “There. Problem solved.”
I raised one eyebrow. “I feel like I want to ask about Betty.”
Reagan groaned as a sizable portion of cake was put between us. It smelled absolutely incredible, and I had never been happier to see cake than I was right now.
I barely even liked cake, but this one looked like I’d love it.
“So, Betty,” I said, handing Reagan a fork.
She took it with raised eyebrows. “I’ve mentioned Halley and the raccoons, right?”
I put my fork into the cake. “I think I remember something about it.”
“Well.” She scooped some cake up onto her fork. “Betty is the mama coon and she just had two babies. Boris—he’s her husband—is a horny little bastard, and their other kids come and go. And when I say Betty just had babies, I mean she just had them. They’re days old, and I want pictures.”
“And she feeds them?”
“She
’s not raising them for slaughter.”
“I don’t think people eat raccoon.”
“People will eat anything if they’re hungry. That’s why cannibalism exists.”
I put my fork down. Now that was the thing that would put a guy off hot, chocolatey cake.
Reagan paused with a forkful of cake near her mouth. “Cannibalism probably isn’t a great thing to mention on a first date, huh?”
“Or any date. Ever.” My lips twitched.
She looked down at the cake with a forlorn expression before setting down her own fork. “Yep. I ruined my own dessert.”
I scratched my jaw, fighting a wider smile. “Shall I get the check and you can show me the beach? As long as you promise not to eat me and kill me.”
She stared flatly at me. “Oh, look, that was so funny I can’t stop laughing.”
“That’s what that sound is. Pure amusement.”
She sighed. Heavily. Then reached for her wine without another word.
If I was exasperating her, that was a good thing. She was pretty exasperating herself.
I motioned for the check and put down cash as soon as the little leather wallet was laid down. Reagan nodded that she was ready to go when I shot her a questioning look, and I got up to get her chair for her.
She took the hand I offered her after making sure she had everything. Her soft fingers wrapped around mine as I guided her out of the restaurant, and a startling thought flashed through my mind.
I would be happy to never let go of her hand.
I squeezed it lightly as I held the door for her and let her step outside before me. I expected her to drop my hand, but she didn’t. Instead, she stayed close enough that her grip barely loosened.
Her entire body shuddered as a cool evening breeze whipped past us. It would only get colder on the beach since the sun was all but fully set, so I leaned in.
“There’s a sweater in my truck. You want it?” I asked her quietly.
“I’m fine.” She wiggled her shoulders like she was fighting a shiver.
“Wait here.” I released her hand and walked to my truck, retrieving the sweater from the back seat. “Here,” I said, holding it out for her to slip her arms into. “I keep it there for when I finish late and it’s pretty cold.”