Candice moved behind her sales counter, pulled open a drawer, and began rummaging through it. Where her shop was immaculately organized and beautifully decorated, her personal items like her drawer and backroom were almost always a chaotic mess.
I wandered around the shop while she searched for the elusive stain-removing pen.
I paused at a flowing, cream-colored top and ran my fingers down the sleeve, which ended in lace trim. I held it up. “This is pretty.”
Candice spared a glance at me. “Oh. Yes, it is, isn’t it? I just got it shipped in yesterday. It’s a new brand I haven’t carried before, but I think it will do well here. I ordered two other pieces from them as well. See that pantsuit there?” She nodded behind me at a powder-blue pantsuit with wide legs and overall-style sleeves. “I have that in blue and gray.”
“I like it,” I said. Then I glanced at the clock above the wall. “Do you want me to turn on your open sign for you? It’s nearly eleven.”
Candice pulled the stain-removing pen out of the drawer with a triumphant grunt. “Ah hah!” She came around the counter and handed it to me, then sipped her coffee while I studiously worked to remove the stain on my skirt. “And no, I don’t turn the sign on until eleven on the nose. I don’t need people thinking I open any earlier than I already do.”
“Eleven isn’t early.”
She scoffed. “I beg your pardon, Miss I get three whole months off a year. Some of us don’t have such luxuries, and I need my beauty sleep. You know that.”
Candice and I had grown up together in Searing. Back when we were kids, we used to have sleepovers, and I’d always be up at seven o’clock and she’d sleep in until ten. When we were teenagers, she slept even later. I never minded. It gave me time to shower, wander downstairs to have breakfast, and read a book.
A book went with me almost everywhere I went, even now.
I put the cap back on the stain remover and frowned down at my skirt. “I think that’s as good as it’s going to get.”
“Give it a couple of minutes. It will fade. You know, you should just carry this in your purse. Here.” Candice handed me the pen. When I opened my mouth to protest, she shook her head. “Not a word, Allie. You and I both know you need this more than I do.”
Blushing, I took the pen and dropped it in my bag. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Candice said cheerfully. She glanced at the clock. Two more minutes until she had to open. “So, how are you feeling about school starting back up? Are you ready? Have you seen your new classroom for the year?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t seen it yet, but I’m ready.”
This was my second year working as a full-time teacher. I’d done my time filling in as a substitute after I graduated with my teaching degree—and a degree in engineering, but that hadn’t really been my passion—and then I’d worked my first full-time year last year as a kindergarten teacher at Searing Elementary. It had been the best year ever.
Daunting. A tad overwhelming. But ultimately the best.
I was able to call the shots in my classroom. It was mine. And since I was the full-time teacher, I actually got to see the progression of the kids from the beginning of the year to the end. That was the most rewarding part. I could see how and where my efforts paid off.
Not only that, but I made real connections with the children because I had the time to do so. And with the parents.
Candice went to the window and flicked on the open sign. Then she came back and joined me near the register so she could lean against the white sales counter. “I still can’t wrap my head around why you want to teach. Kids are so… ugh.”
I smiled. Candice and I were the best of friends, but we were also polar opposites. I appreciated our differences because it kept things interesting. “I know. I know. So you’ve said. But there’s nothing I’d rather do. I get to influence young minds every day. And play. And see their imaginations. It’s almost—”
“Don’t say magical,” Candice quipped.
I giggled and sipped my coffee. She knew me too well. “Have I said that line before?”
“Only a hundred times over.” Candice grinned. “It was sweet the first five times. Now you need to use your own imagination and think of something else to say to convince people that kids aren’t sticky-handed little gremlins with self-control issues.”
I laughed.
Candice didn’t. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are. I think it’s funny.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Yes, in a way.” I dropped my empty coffee in the wastebasket behind her sales counter and leaned one elbow on it. “But they’re not sticky all the time. And their lack of self-control isn’t their fault.”
“Debatable.”
“Candice.”
“What?”
I shook my head at her but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. “They’re just kids. If you ever spent some quality time with one, you’d realize they’re actually really fun to be around. Their personalities come out, and they—”
“Pass,” Candice said, waving her hand dismissively. “The only humans I care to associate with are humans who are allowed into bars.”
“What are you going to do when you want to have children of your own one day?”
Candice arched an eyebrow. “Who said anything about me ever wanting to have kids?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “You might change your mind.”
“Not likely.”
“Still. You never know. Maybe I’ll have a baby, and you’ll love being an auntie so much that you’ll decide you want one of your own.”
Candice’s eyebrow was still arched skeptically. “Uh. No. I don’t think so. If anything, being around a child that often would solidify the decision in my mind that motherhood is not for me.”
I leaned forward on her counter. “Why not?”
“Really? We have to do this again?”
“Amuse me.”
Candice sighed dramatically and rolled her big brown eyes. Then she flipped her brown ponytail over her shoulder and settled her stare on me. “Fine. I don’t want kids because I don’t want the lifestyle that goes with kids. I want to be able to travel, to explore, to change the direction of my life at the drop of a hat if I want to. I want to build my own schedule around the things I enjoy. Like work. And exercise. And sex.” She winked.
“Well, a kid doesn’t mean you can’t do those things.”
She blinked slowly at me. “It’s a no, Allie. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I don’t care. It’s your call. I just like picking your brain about it. You know me. I’ve wanted kids since I was four.”
Candice laughed. “That’s true. You’ve had a motherly instinct as long as I’ve known you.”
If I could have had it my way, I would have already had a kid by now. Or two. But that was a little hard to come by when you were still a virgin.
Actually, it was very hard to come by. And my desire for children wasn’t going to rush me into a relationship with the wrong person. I was waiting for the right man.
A man with a purpose. Drive. Compassion. Humor.
A man who would make a good father.
The door to the shop swung open, and a young couple came in. The girl was pretty. She wore a sun hat and denim shorts that were so short, they could hardly be classified as shorts, and the man whose hand she was holding moved behind her, unthreaded his fingers from hers, and grabbed her ass cheek as he walked.
Candice and I shared a look.
“Hi there,” Candice greeted them with her friendly customer service voice.
The young woman said hello and picked up a candle. She sniffed it, liked the scent, and proceeded to smell all the other candles on the shelf while her boyfriend turned to look at me and Candice.
His eyes slid up the length of my bare legs. I wanted to hide behind the sales counter but held my ground.
Then he did the same to Candice. He blatantly checked her out,
and Candice popped a hip out to rest her hand on it. “Can I help you with something?”
“Just looking,” the girlfriend chimed without turning around.
“Yeah.” The boyfriend winked. “Just looking.”
Ew.
I turned toward Candice. “I think I’d better go.”
“What? Because of him?”
“Keep your voice down,” I whispered.
“I don’t care. Let him look. Looking is as close as he’ll ever get to a classy chick like you or me.”
Candice had always been stronger when it came to this sort of thing than me. I hated confrontation, and I hated the way he looked at me. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and all I wanted was to get the hell out of there.
I retreated to the door. “Sorry. I’ll call you later, okay?”
Candice smiled and shook her head at me. “Okay. Thanks for the coffee.”
3
Mav
The firehouse kitchen smelled like simmering bacon, cheese, fried eggs, and onions. Allen was manning the stove and cooking up a storm, and he had indulged the group of us with some fancy tricks in the kitchen, like flipping eggs over on the pan without using a spatula, in favor of flipping it with his wrist. In the twelve he made, he’d only cracked one.
Shift change would be upon us in less than forty-five minutes. It was nearly seven in the morning, and this had become a ritual of ours before the start of any days off, to sit down and enjoy breakfast together. I couldn’t recall when the ritual began, only that it had stood as a tradition for the last two or so years, and none of us seemed inclined to waver from it.
Why mess with a good thing?
While Allen brought our plates to the table, Hayden filled up our coffee mugs with a fresh brew from the pot. Then, like men who hadn’t eaten in weeks, we set to our plates with ravenous appetites.
Nobody spoke for the first five or so minutes. That had also become a tradition. Then, as our bellies filled and the second wave of energy broke over us, friendly morning chatter began.
Hayden, who was sitting across the table from me, tipped his chin in my direction while he grazed on a piece of bacon. “So I hear Olivette starts kindergarten next week. When did that happen?”
Admittedly, I wasn’t sure where the time had gone. One minute, Olivette was nothing but a six-pound beansprout in my hands in the hospital, and the next, we were shopping for backpacks that were all too big for her and filling them with supplies I wasn’t sure she would even need.
“I couldn’t tell you, man,” I said, pushing my eggs around on my plate. “It’s been a real mind-fuck to be honest.”
“Before you know it, she’ll be starting high school,” Maddox teased.
I shot him a dark look over the rim of my coffee mug. “Don’t say shit like that, rookie. I don’t have to think about high school for a long time.”
Or ever, if I had my way.
Maddox snickered at my expense, and some of the others joined him. I scowled around the table, but the expression broke and fell away, and I shook my head, smiling. “She’s more excited than I am. That’s for sure. She can’t wait to start school. She says she’s ready to ‘go forth and conquer’.”
“Of course, she’d say that,” Trace mused.
“She’s going places, that kid of yours,” Allen said.
I knew that clear as day. And it wasn’t my fatherly bias shining through. Well, maybe that played a small role in it, but objectively, I knew Olivette was a clever little girl with a unique mind and a state of confidence that was sure to carry her through any storm life put on her doorstep.
I’d wanted that for my little girl. She deserved it. She was already missing out on having a mother, and I’d been determined not to let that affect her strength. This life wasn’t fair to anyone, not me, not my crew, and not my little girl. My role as her father, in my eyes, was to prepare her for what was out there. And that started with nurturing her heart, her kindness, her confidence, and making room for curiosity where it belonged, and teaching caution where it was needed.
So far so good.
Of course, she was only four.
There was a lot of time ahead of me for things to go horribly awry.
I had to believe my little Olivette would never be one of those moody teenagers who made everything a battle. I had to believe she and I would be thick as thieves forever.
But I also knew she needed more than just me. She needed a female role model, too. My grandmother, as helpful as she was to me and Olivette, wasn’t the type of role model I had in mind, either.
She needed someone like her own mother. God bless her soul.
“Cantone.”
I jerked in my seat and looked over my shoulder to find the chief, Rinehart, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, bracing himself against the frame with one shoulder. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his gray mustache twitched above his upper lip like an anxious caterpillar as he regarded me with a neutral expression.
“Sorry, Chief, did you need me?” I asked. Apparently, I’d zoned out. I had no idea how long he’d been standing there waiting for my attention, but based on the snickers of the other men around the table, I could safely assume it had been longer than I realized.
Rinehart tipped his head down the hall toward his office. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment. Please. When you’re finished eating is fine.”
I stared down at my plate. It was nearly empty, so I popped my last piece of bacon into my mouth and stood up. The legs of my chair squeaked on the floor, and I went to the sink to wash my plate before loading it into the dishwasher. Then I turned toward the hall with my coffee in hand.
“Good luck,” one of the guys taunted.
I didn’t spare them a glance as I turned and made my way after the chief down the hall to his office. He closed the door behind me and walked around his desk to take a seat. The window behind him was framed with two bookcases, each of them boasting a selection of autobiographies, nonfiction, and war stories mostly.
The chief never struck me as a man with an appreciation for fantasy or fiction. Not that they were bad things. I simply doubted they were his cup of tea.
I took the seat across from him when the chief gestured for me to.
Then I clasped my hands together over my lower stomach and waited for him to speak. He straightened out some papers on his desk before leaning back and regarding me calmly. “Trace filled me in on the apartment fire you all saw to, early yesterday evening.” He paused as if waiting for me to say something. I didn’t. “You made good choices out there. After the inspection, it became clear that the ceiling was nearly completely burned through. The upper unit floor was about to cave in, and, well, you know how things would have escalated from there.”
I did. The fire would have had access to way more oxygen, and then it would have doubled in size in mere minutes, and we’d have had a much bigger, more dangerous fire on our hands.
Rinehart’s lip twitched in a smile. “I want to talk to you about a promotion, Mav.”
“A promotion?”
Rinehart nodded. “A promotion indeed. Is it something you’ve considered? Moving up? Making a place for yourself here with a bit more authority and control? I think it would suit you well.”
I shifted in my seat to rest an elbow on the armrest and my chin in my hand. I stroked my jaw with my thumb. “Honestly, I haven’t. My plate is kind of full at the moment, with Olivette and work and trying to find a healthy balance. Things are going to get more complicated now that she’s starting school, and I don’t think I can handle more responsibility.”
Rinehart smiled. “Olivette is starting school already?”
“Kindergarten.”
“Wow. Where did the time go?”
“You can say that again.”
“I feel like it was just yesterday that you brought her in here, all bundled up and so small.” Rinehart gazed at his desk, his eyes growing distant as he looked back at a memory I h
ad no idea he could remember in such detail. “She was swaddled in a blue blanket. You and Britt thought you were having a boy.”
I nodded. All of that was true.
It had been a confusing time, becoming a new father—and a single father at that. All in a matter of twenty-four hours.
Had it not been for this job and my crew, I never would have come through it. Those were some dark days.
Really dark.
“Well,” Rinehart said, leaning forward, “Olivette comes first. Always. If the timing is bad, then let’s table this for now. Sound good?”
I nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
“But I want you to acknowledge that you’ll think about it.”
“Sir?”
“Moving up. I have a good sense for these things, Mav, and I’ve been considering you for quite some time. Your actions yesterday align with the kind of leadership this station needs. And discipline, too. So roll it around in that head of yours. All right?”
I got to my feet. “All right. Thank you, sir.”
Rinehart nodded toward the door. “Have a good day, Mav. Say hi to your little girl for me. And good luck at the parent-teacher meeting on Friday.”
I paused with my hand on the door handle. “Trace told you about those?”
“Of course, he did. He’s a natural chatterbox. Can’t help himself. Kind of like that daughter of yours.”
I grinned. “Good point.”
When I stepped out into the hall, I bumped shoulders with Trace, who was slipping by the office and making his way out to the garage. He threw an arm around my shoulders and steered me out into the garage with him. Our shift was over.
“So did he fire you?” Trace joked.
“He offered me a promotion.”
“No shit?” Trace asked, his arm falling from my shoulders so he could turn and face me head-on. “What did you say?”
I shrugged. “The timing is a little off. I have a lot going on right now and—”
“There will always be a lot going on. Don’t throw away an opportunity like this, man. You’ll regret it. Besides, Rinehart doesn’t make mistakes. You know that. If he thinks you’re suited for a role, you should take it.”
Ignite The Spark Between Us: Searing Saviors #4 Page 2