Love Resurrected (Love in San Soloman Book 5)

by Denise Wells

  Both women nod and head for the table, unloading the things they’ve brought with them. Nessa spreads out on one whole side of the table, leaving the other side for both Tenley and me. “I’m sorry,” Nessa starts. “I know I’m taking up a lot of space. It’s temporary, I just need to get these tasks organized in my mind and then on paper. The easiest way for me to do that is to see them spread out before me.”

  “No problem,” Tenley says. I murmur something similar and we each take a seat next to one another, opposite Nessa. It’s a little too close for comfort. When we sit, my legs spread and hit Tenley’s.

  “Lovely,” she mumbles under her breath, her tone anything but sincere.

  “Would move if I could,” I mumble with the same lack of friendliness in my tone. I’m not exactly comfortable being in such close contact. It makes me feel panicked and excited at the same time, but also sick to my stomach. Will there ever be a time the thought of another woman won’t invoke such chaos in my body and mind.

  Coconut and vanilla—the scent I now associate with her—consumes my senses. I’m reminded of how feisty she was both the night before and the night of the auction. I kind of like she has a backbone hidden under that easygoing demeanor.

  “The mayor called me with a few additional things she wants to make sure we cover on the fire department side of things. I figure we can split it, then divide and conquer.” She hands me a sheet of paper with a long list of items.

  “A few things?” I ask, since the list has a lot more than just a few things on it.

  She shrugs in return.

  “So, I take half of these things?”

  “No, that is your half,” she says.

  “Jesus, there’s like thirty items on this list. I can’t get all this finished besides everything else we’ve already come up with.” My outlook on life is suddenly not so sunny.

  “Well, the mayor said that the fire chief assured her you will be on flex time to help with this.”

  “Well, lucky me then.” I know I sound like a petulant child, but that doesn’t stop me. Because, in this moment, I don’t want to do this. And not with Tenley. Nessa: great. Tenley: not so much. “Jeez, Tenley, are you sure there isn’t more we should put on this list?” I ask.

  “No, I’m not, Brad.” She bugs her eyes. “I’m sure that more things could come up. You know, if the mayor thinks of something else or if we realize we’ve missed something. But for now, it’s what we’ve got. If you know of anything else though, please feel free to add it.”

  “You’ve already got the entire encyclopedia of things here. I doubt anything else exists to add.”

  “I have to say, I’m impressed you know what an encyclopedia is. Though I suppose, at your age, an encyclopedia was the go-to resource you had to rely on for information growing up. Am I right?”

  I grunt at her in return. Whatever she’s saying doesn’t warrant an actual response anyway.

  “I see you are back to your usual grunting instead of actual words in a conversation.”

  Now she’s gone too far.

  “I carry on conversations,” I protest.

  “Mmm,” she grunts. I laugh, despite myself.

  Nessa looks up from her stack of papers. “Children, behave.” Her tone is gentle, but still firm.

  I feel properly chastised.

  Make an effort, dickhead.

  “Do you want me to start at the top and just work my way down?” I ask Tenley as I gesture to my list.

  “Sort of, I mean I think the most important thing is to outline why someone would even want to be a firefighter, right? Then we can design some marketing around that and get it circulating.”

  I nod. “Makes sense.”

  “Okay, then. What makes being a fireman desirable?” She turns toward me as she asks this, long legs crossed, pen poised and at the ready, notebook perched atop her knee.

  “Desirable?” I scoff.

  “Yes. Why would someone want to do it?”

  “Best fucking job there is. No two days are the same, never chained to a desk . . .” I look down at that, realizing I am, have been, and will continue to be chained to a desk until I change my attitude. Or was it my outlook? Personality? Work ethic? One of those was in question and is to blame.

  I look back at Tenley. She smirks in response.

  Anyway.

  “Let me rephrase. When you don’t have repeated fuckups, like me, then you aren’t chained to a desk, selling your soul from nine to five every day.”

  “What have you done to fuck things up?” she asks, her eyes wide. I think she expects me to tell her, which amuses me.

  I rear back my head. “Pfft, I’m not telling you that.”

  She looks down at her notebook, then back up at me. “Okay then, we have best fucking job out there, no two days are the same, never chained to a desk unless you are Brad Mathews. Anything else?”

  Smartass. She almost makes me laugh.

  Almost.

  “Yeah, the whole ‘putting out fires’ thing? Biggest threat to homes, land, forests, wildlife. Not to mention saving lives, first responder to any accident or dangerous scene.”

  She taps her pen against her lips. They are full and just this side of pink. If I were a different person and in a different situation, I might find them attractive. Kissable even.

  “Okay, but are those really draws to the job?”

  I’m having a difficult time pulling my attention from her mouth. The way it moves as she pronounces different words and letters. How her pen bounces back when she taps it against her bottom lip.

  “Brad?”

  “What?” I jerk my gaze back to hers.

  “Are they?”

  “Are they what?”

  “Are those things you listed really draws to the job? I mean, it sounds dangerous.”

  “It is dangerous. But shit, so is waking up every morning. Plus, if it scares someone off, they aren’t meant for this job.”

  “So, would it be fair to say the job is exciting?”

  “Sure. Absolutely.”

  We go through a few more adjectives of her choice, geared toward making the job sound as enticing as possible. All it does it reinforce my love for this job. I don’t even understand how recruitment could be down. How people don’t want to do this for a living confuses me. Yes, it’s dangerous. But so is crossing a busy street. Boarding a plane. Navigating the California freeway system. Plus, we’re trained extensively on how to react in situations ordinarily considered life-threatening.

  I hear the rumbling of the trucks as they back into the station. “Be right back,” I tell her, and I head out to the truck bay to help the guys restock supplies and whatever else might be necessary after this last run.

  11

  Tenley

  Brad heads through a doorway to another part of the building, I assume to help the guys in the trucks I heard pull in. The wall between the reception area and where the trucks park is mostly glass. He swaggers when he walks, like his shoulders are rolling in tandem with each step. He greets Ethan and another guy.

  “Hey, who’s the hot redhead?” the other guy asks, pointing at me. I feel myself flush accordingly.

  “Pain in my ass,” Brad grumbles in response.

  He looks over Brad’s shoulder and winks at me. “Want me to take her off your hands?”

  “She’s working,” Brad barks his response, then says something else I can’t hear.

  “Sorry, man. Just trying to help lessen the pain in your ass.”

  Ethan pulls Brad off to the side, and they carry on a conversation, heads bent toward one another, Brad turns to look at me with a scowl on his face every few moments.

  He’s so temperamental.

  The other guy walks into the room. “I’d introduce myself, gorgeous, but Mathews has forbidden me to speak to you. So . . .” He comes over to the table where I am and motions to my pen and notebook, asking if he can use them. I hand him both and wait as he writes something down. He winks as he hands it bac
k to me and saunters from the room.

  “He was an attractive man,” Nessa says. “What does his note say?”

  I look down and read the words aloud to Nessa.

  I’m Neil and I would love to stare at your beautiful face across a candlelit table in a fancy restaurant over dinner sometime when you aren’t off-limits.

  We both giggle at the note. It’s cute. And charming. Though I’m not sure why I’d be off-limits. I look around to see if I can find him, but don’t see anyone else outside of Brad and Ethan. So, I grab my phone to send him a text.

  ME: Hi. It’s the face you’d like to stare at over dinner. My name is Tenley. Here’s my number. I’m definitely NOT off limits.

  Neil comes back in the room a moment later. “Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” He smiles big. “Is tonight too soon? I’m off at six.”

  “Tonight is not too soon,” I say.

  “Too soon for what?” Brad asks, returning to his seat.

  “Dinner,” Neil says. “The lady says she’s available.”

  Brad grunts something unintelligible.

  Neil looks from Brad to me. “Want to meet at seven? I’ll text you the address.”

  “Sounds good,” I say with a smile.

  Neil smiles big back at me and waves a hand at Nessa. “I’m looking forward to it,” he says, casting a triumphant look at Brad as he leaves the room.

  “Nessa, that was Neil Nicholson. Since he doesn’t have the manners to introduce himself properly,” Brad says to her.

  “He was a little too smitten to pay me any mind,” Nessa says.

  Brad grunts again, before turning toward me, his face void of emotion. “Did you get anything done while I was working? Or were you too busy flirting?”

  “I wasn’t flirting.”

  He mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “Bullshit.” I ignore him.

  Nessa asks for my help on something and I gladly move to her side of the table, grateful to leave Mr. Personality on his own for a while. Before I realize it, we’ve hit the six o’clock hour and the shift change is happening at the station. We pack up our things and say our goodbyes. By ten minutes after the hour, I’m on my way home to change for my date.

  I call Sadie from the car on my way home. “Hey, beautiful girl,” she answers.

  “Hey, mama. Guess who has a date?”

  “You?”

  “Yep.”

  “Yay! When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “With whom? Anyone I know?”

  “Neil Nicholson.”

  “Really?” Her voice is flat.

  “Uh-oh. Why the voice? Is this a bad idea?” I ask.

  “Well,” Sadie starts. “I mean, I don’t know him as well as everyone else. So maybe not a bad idea, per se. He’s just, kind of the station hound dog, you know what I mean?”

  I laugh. “Hound dog?”

  “Yeah, you know: hound dog, Casanova, womanizer, slut.”

  “Sounds right up my alley,” I say.

  “Sure, old Tenley-alley. But new Tenley-alley is looking for monogamy. A grown-up relationship.”

  “Well, maybe while she’s looking for that, she can go out and have a good time in the meantime. I haven’t been asked out in forever.”

  “Which I totally don’t get. I mean, what’s not to like about you? I’m surprised more guys don’t ask you out.”

  Me too.

  “Okay, in all seriousness, I think with him you should be cautious if this goes beyond dinner,” she continues. “I know for a fact that he’s not the kind to get serious about anything.”

  “It’s not like we’re starting a relationship or something. It’s just dinner. And I only agreed because he asked in a cute way and looked kinda hot in all his firefighter gear doing it.”

  “Yeah, there’s something about all that turnout gear that is such a turn-on.” She sighs.

  She’s not wrong.

  “Okay, so, what do I wear?” I ask her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. He’s supposed to text me the address, but he hasn’t yet.”

  We strategize about different outfits, depending on the place we go. By the time I’m pulling into my driveway, I have two different outfits in mind to wear.

  “Send me a pic when you’re all done up,” Sadie says. “I have to live vicariously through you as I sit on my couch like a fat sloth, and mainline popsicles since it’s so damn hot out.”

  “Will do. Love you.”

  “Love you back.”

  “Tenley out.”

  I hang up as I’m getting out of my car.

  I bought a house here not too long ago. It’s got the best of what San Soloman has to offer, set up on a hill with three-hundred-sixty-degree views. And, my favorite part: no immediate neighbors. As in, I’m the only one on the top of this hill. Everyone else has houses built into the side of the hill.

  Technically, I suppose it’s a subdivision, but the lots are large, and they’ve kept the rustic feel with only one road in or out. Meaning no one drives by my house unless they mean to come up my driveway. That’s definitely my favorite thing about it.

  I take my time getting ready, pumping myself up about my date. Neil seems like a fun and charming guy, and I don’t mind if this doesn’t turn into anything. I’m just happy for a night out and maybe after this, I’ll have someone else to call a friend in this little coastal town. Not that the friends I have aren’t enough, but I’d like to branch out a bit. Get away from the nepotism in our little group, for lack of a better word. And maybe it only feels that way because they are so close to one another. Which, I’m sure, results from Kat’s death. They pulled inward after that happened and hung on tight.

  I looked up the restaurant online when Neil texted me the address. It’s a small unassuming place called Adams Avenue Grill. Except it’s not on Adams Avenue, which I think is funny. Based on the pictures online, it looks cozy and welcoming. Given the temperature today, I hope that also means they have A/C.

  I choose the in-between outfit Sadie and I picked out. I’m going through a romper phase, so I have quite a few of them right now. But they’re perfect for casual dates in a coastal town. The one we decide on is white with a black floral pattern, loose off-the-shoulder top, with long billowy sleeves, and baggy shorts styled to look more like a short skirt. I pair it with black, patent leather open-toed wedge-heeled sandals and a bright red clutch purse. My hair is up in a loose bun, with tendrils escaping all around my face. I’ve gone sans eye makeup and a bright lipstick.

  I get to the restaurant right on time. From the outside, it looks exactly like the pictures online. The entire front is made up of windows with a bar on the left-hand side, behind which I’m sure is the kitchen, and general seating throughout the middle and right side of the building. I’m guessing it holds about forty-five to fifty people at maximum capacity. I don’t see Neil anywhere, so I take a seat at the bar and order a vodka soda with lime while I wait.

  I see him walking up about five minutes later, looking around, checking his watch, and muttering to himself. He’s carrying a single red rose in one of those little plastic containers that clip to the end of the stem. Like what you would buy at a small market or corner flower stand. I wave my hand to get his attention, and he smiles big when he sees me, making me instantly happy I said yes.

  He comes in the restaurant and over to the bar, looking effortlessly handsome in worn jeans, an untucked short-sleeve shirt, and leather biker type boots. His shirt pulls against his chest and arms in a way that exemplifies his muscle. His hair is still slightly wet, as though he’s just gotten out of the shower, with the front falling over his forehead in a casual way.

  I stand to greet him. He smells good, and familiar. Like I should know the name of the cologne.

  “Wow, you look incredible,” he says, pulling me in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek before taking a step back to look me up and down. “I will be the envy of every man here tonight.” I
blush at his compliment as he hands me the rose. “For you, my lady.”

  I hold it to my nose and breath deep. It smells amazing. “Thank you so much. That was very thoughtful. You look nice.”

  He smiles, then turns to nod to the hostess, holding out his arm to me. “Shall we?”

  I let him lead me to our table and pull out my chair for me. The hostess finds a small vase for my rose and we place it in the center of the table between us. Neil orders a beer and I sip my cocktail while we peruse the menu.

  “Have you been here before?” I ask.

  He nods. “I have. I live within walking distance, it’s one of my favorite places to eat.”

  “Bring all your dates here?” I tease.

  Now it’s his turn to blush. “Not as many as you would think.”

  “Twenty? Thirty?” I smile so he knows I’m kidding.

  “You’re the second.”

  “No way.” If he’s telling the truth, knowing that warms my belly a bit.

  “Truth.” He holds three fingers up. “Scout’s honor.”

  I giggle at that. “Were you a scout?”

  “All the way to Eagle Scout.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Pfft. Is that good?” he mimics and puffs out his chest in an exaggerated manner. “Eagle Scout is the highest rank a scout can get.”

  “My mistake, sir.” I salute him.

  He laughs. “Finally, I’m getting the respect I deserve.”

  “Is that all it took, for me to salute you?”

  “That, and a goodnight kiss,” he says, his eyes twinkling.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I look back to my menu, trying to decide what I want to order. “What do you recommend?”

  “My favorite is the pot roast, but that might be a little heavy on a night this warm. The crab cakes are also amazing. And you can’t go wrong with the seared Ahi.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll get.”

  “All three? I like a girl with an appetite. I’ll try to keep up if I can.”

  I giggle again, something I’m doing a lot of around him, even though I wouldn’t ordinarily consider myself to be a giggler. “No, the seared Ahi. That’s one of my favorite things to eat. Ever.”