Ignite The Spark Between Us: Searing Saviors #4

by Parker, Weston

  The days where his grandmother picked Olivette up or dropped her off were always filled with disappointment.

  “It’ll be worth your while,” Mav said.

  I licked my lips. “Okay.”

  “Yeah?” His eyebrows shot up.

  I nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  What harm could one little dinner do in the long run?

  15

  Mav

  Thursday morning rolled in with a cloud-heavy sky. The air was thick and humid as ever, but there was no blasting heat from above, and it was a nice reprieve for Trace and me, who were doing an audit in the station.

  We were working in the garage, moving from station to station, following the audit check diligently. This was the kind of thing where there was no room for errors. Lives depended on reliable equipment—lives of Searing residents and our own.

  Conversation was nonexistent as we filled out reports, repaired machinery, and worked on a list of parts or pieces to order that were in need of replacing.

  By the time noon rolled around, we took a step back to have a cold glass of water and sit outside. We could hear the rowdy laughter of the others on our crew playing a game of basketball out back.

  “Lucky bastards,” Trace grumbled before tipping his head back to take three greedy gulps from his water bottle. Beads collected in the corner of his mouth, and one ran down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. “Rinehart lets them play ball and sends us out here to do the dirty work. I swear this shit makes me feel like I’m going cross-eyed. Too much pressure.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself,” I said.

  “Easy for you to say. You’re a natural at this. It comes easy to you.”

  That was an easy thing for someone else to say from the outside looking in. My head wasn’t nearly as clear as he seemed to think it was. For example, I’d had to mentally check myself during the audit to stop daydreaming about Allie and to focus on the task at hand.

  “How are you planning on spending the weekend?” Trace leaned back on the bench outside the station, crossed his leg to rest his boot on his knee, and draped his arms over the backrest. He shot me a curious look from beneath his eyebrows. “Any special plans?”

  Yes.

  I had a bad habit of keeping things to myself. My date with Allie seemed like something I needed to protect. But Trace was a friend—a friend with plenty of dating experience who might have a few wise words to offer me. After all, it had been quite a few years since I’d been on a date.

  Seven, to be exact.

  “I do, actually,” I admitted.

  Trace’s eyebrows inched upward, and he dropped his foot from his knee to lean forward and peer over at me. “Oh? Do you now?”

  I nodded. “I, uh, I have a date.”

  Trace’s grin was criminal. “Well shit. I did not see that coming. What’s her name?”

  “Allie.”

  “Allison or just Allie?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How did you meet her?”

  I grimaced. “She’s Olivette’s teacher.”

  Trace blinked. Then he rocked back in the bench and let out a bark of laughter. He slapped his thigh. “You dog. And here I was, thinking you wouldn’t ever put a toe out of line. What a pleasant surprise. A kindergarten teacher. Nice.”

  “Don’t say it like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like her profession dictates what kind of date we’re going to have.”

  Trace frowned. “You’re right. Sorry.” He scratched at his chin. “So where are you taking her?”

  “I was thinking Searing Grill.”

  My friend shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. You can do better than that.”

  I sighed. I should have expected that. Searing Grill was a good destination in this little town, but it was a tad overrated and definitely not romantic. Maybe that was why I’d picked it. Because it felt safe.

  “What do you suggest then?” I asked dryly.

  “Well,” Trace said, pausing for what I could only assume was supposed to be a dramatic effect, “you should take her someplace nice. Especially if you genuinely like her. Somewhere like Franco’s. Or Tratetello’s.”

  Fine dining or Italian.

  “Tratetello’s sounds like a good idea. Most women like pasta, don’t they?”

  Trace chuckled. “I don’t know, man. With all the dates I’ve been on because of my crazy mother, you’d think I’d have case study results. But I really don’t think there’s such a thing as ‘most women’ when it comes to shit like that. They’re all different. You don’t know if you have a pasta girl on your hands or a rabbit who’s only going to order salad until it comes to tell the server what you want.”

  “What does it matter?”

  Trace shrugged. “It doesn’t. But what can I say? I like a girl who likes carbs.” He patted his stomach. “Does Olivette know you’re taking her teacher out?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “And I don’t plan on saying anything about it. This is just a first date. A chance for me to flex some very neglected chivalry muscles.”

  Trace nodded slowly. “Yeah, I hear you. It’s been how long since you went on a first date? Five years or something? Before—”

  “Seven,” I said, cutting him off before he had a chance to say my wife’s name aloud.

  “Seven. Damn.” Trace blew out a long breath. “Well, I hope it goes well for you, man. I mean, I’m sure it will. Just relax and try to have fun. And have at least one drink to take the edge off. It’ll help calm your nerves.”

  “Nerves?”

  He scoffed. “Don’t bullshit me. Everyone gets nervous for a first date.”

  I hid my smile. He was right, of course. Whenever I thought too long on my upcoming date with Allie, my stomach twisted into a knot, and my palms got sweaty. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Not at all. I actually enjoyed it. So much time had passed since I felt anything like this that I was glad to feel it again.

  Relieved, even.

  For a long time, I’d believed this kind of excitement was permanently out of my reach. Luckily, I’d been wrong, and Allie came into my life.

  “So what’s she like, man?”

  “Allie?”

  “No, your grandmother,” Trace said flatly. Then he cracked a grin and started laughing. “Yes, Allie, you dumbass. What’s she like?”

  How could I describe the young woman who’d taken my breath away the first time I met her, and every time I saw her since?

  “She’s… kind,” I said. It was always the first word that came to mind when I thought of her. She was the sort of woman you knew had a big heart just by looking at her. And the way she looked at you was like she really saw you, like she could peer into the dark corners of your heart and soul and shed light on them just by smiling at you. “And she’s warm. She’s passionate about her job, and she loves kids. She’s smart, too. Crazy smart. She has her master’s in engineering.”

  “What? And she’s teaching at Searing Elementary?”

  “Like I said, she loves kids, and she’s passionate about teaching. She chose that over the money and status.” It was a huge turn-on for me. A woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t lured into something else because of the lifestyle it offered. That showed strength. And self-awareness. And it proved that she was not shallow and driven by money.

  Trace frowned. “How come my mother can’t seem to find women like this to set me up on all these God damn dates with?”

  I laughed. “I don’t know, man. Part of me is starting to wonder if your mother is just torturing you. It might be endless entertainment for her.”

  “Now that would be a cruel trick.”

  “But a good one. Don’t deny it.”

  He shook his head and ran a hand over his short, buzzed hair. “Don’t fuck with me like that, man. These women are getting crazier with every passing month. I swear. I couldn’t make this shit up.”

  I leaned back against the bench. “Which d
ate has been the worst so far?”

  “You think I can just pluck one out of the air? Dude. There have been more bizarre dates than I can count. I had a girl give me a lecture when I ordered the lamb special once. She got so worked up about it that she started crying, and the whole restaurant thought I was breaking up with her. She stormed out, and the whole restaurant glared at me like I was evil incarnate while I ate.” Trace shrugged. “Though I did prefer that to having to endure her company any longer.”

  I snorted. “Nice.”

  “What? She was nuts. Oh, and there was the one time I had a girl bring out a checklist.”

  “A what?”

  Trace nodded while spiraling his index finger around his temple. “Yeah. Crazy. She asked me a series of questions and proceeded to check off boxes all the way down her list. I shit you not. There were at least fifty.”

  I couldn’t contain my laughter. “Please tell me you remember some of the questions.”

  “Oh, I remember. She asked how tall I was. If I had a history of heart disease in my family. If I had any allergies. If I believed in God and if I went to church. If I exercised frequently, which, let’s be real, was pretty insulting because I’m cut for fuck’s sake. Look at me.” He gestured down at himself.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. What else did she ask?” I was too amused by his story to let it end.

  Trace pursed his lips thoughtfully. “What else did she ask? Oh, yes. She wanted a detailed answer when she asked how many kids I wanted and when I wanted them by. She wanted to know how much money I thought was acceptable to spend on an engagement ring. She asked if I owned my house. If cancer ran in my family. If my teeth were naturally straight or if I needed braces—”

  “What the hell?”

  “Dude, I know. She was batshit.”

  “How did the date end?”

  “I think I made it to question seventy-four or something before I bailed.”

  My laughter was unstoppable. I fought to get it under control. “How did you get out of there?”

  “I stood up and told her I wasn’t interested in dating a micromanaging sociopath.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I wheezed.

  Trace nodded, eyes wide. “You bet your ass I did. And for the first time in my life, I walked out on a woman in a restaurant. Quite satisfying actually. But I did always wonder about something.”

  “What?” I asked innocently.

  Trace got a devilish look in his eyes, and he grinned at me. “She must have been a hell of a good time in bed.”

  “Fuck, man.”

  “I mean it! The crazy ones are always the most fun in the bedroom, and she certainly took the cake for the craziest woman I’ve gone out with before.”

  “She doesn’t sound crazy,” I said.

  “How the hell does that not sound crazy to you?”

  I shrugged. “She sounds like someone who’s quite possibly been on as many shitty dates as you and is done fucking around, so she wants all the answers upfront before she gets too invested.”

  Trace blinked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, pushing to my feet. “That just seems like the only explanation to me.”

  Trace sighed and stood too, pausing to crack his back. “Yeah, well, you might sing a different tune if you were the one sitting across the table from her.” We made our way up the drive and back into the garage. Trace picked up our clipboards and passed mine to me. “As someone with plenty of dating experience, I just have one piece of advice for you, man.”

  “What’s that?”

  He flipped to the page we were on for the audit and eyed me over the clipboard. “Don’t fuck her on the first date. They get clingy after that. And that’s where the trouble starts.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think I have to worry about that.”

  “About her getting clingy? Every man has to worry about that.”

  “No. About having sex. I don’t think Allie is the kind of girl to hookup after a first date.”

  Trace put his back to me and started walking away, laughing. “Dude, you underestimate yourself. You’re a firefighter. You’re an exception to the rule.”

  16

  Allie

  I parked outside Candice’s boutique about an hour and a half after school got out on Friday afternoon. The sun was blazing down overhead, heating the asphalt under my feet, and I hurried from the car to the shade cast by the awning above the boutique window. It wasn’t cool by any means, but it was a lot more comfortable than standing in the scorching sun. Being exposed to the sun for just three minutes made my skin feel like it was on fire.

  I hovered in the shade while a pair of young women made their way out of the shop, pausing to peruse the sales racks outside the front door. They sifted through long summer dresses in floral prints and bright colors before moving into the sun to go to their own car. Their complaints echoed the ones in my head about the heat.

  The air conditioning in the boutique was a welcome reprieve. I took a deep breath of cool air and breathed through my nose, ignoring the curious looks from the other customers busy with their shopping.

  Candice’s voice rang through the shop as she chatted with someone making a purchase. I moved farther into the shop and did a lap, waiting for her to be free. I had to wait a good ten or so minutes. After the first customer moved along, more came to stand in line to make their purchases.

  Finally, when they had all left save for one straggler who insisted on smelling every single candle on the display on the far wall, I went over to the cash register and leaned on the counter while Candice skewered a sales receipt on a metal poker.

  “Hey, babe,” she chimed, closing her cash register with her hip. “How’s it hanging?”

  “It’s hot.”

  “Tell me about it. I sure am glad I had that HVAC guy come through here in the spring to install my unit. Otherwise, I’d have melted in this heat. And you know how I am when I’m too hot.”

  “Bitchy?”

  “I was going to say moody, but I suppose bitchy works too,” Candice said, brooding. “It’s good for business, too. People need a cool place to hang out, and they feel guilty not spending money at independent stores like mine. I should’ve done this years ago.”

  “Well, now you know for future reference.”

  Candice walked out from behind her cash counter and went to one of her shelving units, where she had neatly folded tea towels. Well, they were usually neatly folded. With her afternoon rush of customers, they’d become a bit messed up.

  I pitched in to help, and we folded towels in a uniform order before placing them in the shelf, the colors fading from dark at the bottom to light at the top. The other customer proceeded to continue smelling candles.

  “Let me know if you need help with anything,” Candice hollered to the customer. Then she shook her head at me and dropped her voice to a whisper. “She comes in here all the time and smells those damn candles. Does she ever buy one? No. Not ever.”

  “Maybe she works somewhere really smelly, and she likes to stop here to reset her palette?”

  Candice blinked lazily at me. “Seriously?”

  “What? I’m just saying. You don’t know what someone else’s life is like. Maybe it’s a peaceful little ritual for her.”

  “Or maybe she’s wasting my time and taking advantage of my product. Candles lose their scent eventually, you know? That’s why they sell them with lids. They’re like tubes of mascara. The more times you open, the more you compromise the quality.”

  I hadn’t really needed the lecture on candles. But that was Candice. “Have you asked her nicely to stop… taking advantage of your candles?”

  “And how am I supposed to do that without sounding like a lunatic?” Candice shook her head and sighed. “It doesn’t matter. She can come in here and smell to her heart’s content. It’s just weird, you know?”

  I shot a look at the girl sniffing candles like glue. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  “Ignore her
. She’ll be gone in five minutes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Please. I know her routine like the back of my hand now. This little routine has been going on for weeks.”

  I decided to drop the subject. “What else is new with you?”

  “Oh, nothing. Keeping busy.”

  “Your new hire is still doing well?”

  “She’s great. Honestly. She’s making my life so much easier, I think I have a crush on her.”

  I laughed and shook my head. My favorite thing about Candice was her tendency to say the most outlandish things at the craziest times. If it popped into her head, chances were it was going to pop out of her mouth, and usually within a five-second window, too. She had a complete inability to filter herself.

  We were polar opposites in that way. I calmed her down while she lifted me up.

  “I’m glad you have a reliable employee.”

  “Me too.” Candice folded her last towel and put it away before plucking the one in my hands from me to put it at the very top of the shelf, just out of my reach. Then she adjusted a couple on the shelf, making sure everything was perfectly straight, and cast a glance over her shoulder as the candle-sniffer made for the door. “Have a good one.”

  The girl paused at the door and smiled back at us. “Thanks. You too.”

  When the door closed behind her, Candice muttered under her breath. “See you on Monday, freak.”

  I moved away from the towels to do another lap of the store. Candice began rearranging the display of candles and inspecting them to make sure none were missing—at least that was what I assumed she was doing.

  “What are your plans for the night?” Candice asked as she worked.

  I pursed my lips and paused to run my fingers down the length of a flowy green maxi skirt. It was linen and would probably be very comfortable in this intense summer heat. “Nothing, really.”

  “What’s the really?”

  I bit my bottom lip and shot her a look. Her back was to me.