by Peyton Banks
“I was and now I’m not. Gabrielle lives in the neighborhood. You’ve probably seen her before.”
Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t recall,” she snarled.
“Have any fun plans this weekend?”
Her pink hair shook side to side. “No, I’m working.”
He stuck his black card in the credit card reader. A firefighter with a black card? Hmm.
“You have a good day, Lisa. I’ll see you next week.”
I smiled then glanced at the conveyor belt. Chandler slickly paid for all the groceries. Ugh.
He nodded his head toward the door. Lisa's eyes narrowed as she watched us stroll out of the store. I couldn’t help, but peek back one more time.
* * *
“Chandler, it’s obvious she’s the president of your fan club. You told her we were in a relationship. But we aren’t a couple.”
He helped me up into the truck. “Yet.” Chandler shut the door.
He stored my groceries in the kitchen cabinets before he left. Chandler didn’t kiss me. Good move. It was best we kept our hands off of each other.
* * *
Two hours later, I woke up from a much-needed nap around five in the evening. I hopped into the shower, then slipped into a sundress. The second I turned on the oven, my apartment would become a sauna. I smoothed my hair into a high ponytail. Fifteen minutes to six, I lined the pans along the back of the square kitchen table.
The door buzzer sounded.
I scurried to the door and buzzed Chandler up. My little humble reddish-brown brick building was only two stories. Nothing like the skyscraper that caught fire across the street.
My heart beat against my chest so fast, I thought it would burst as I waited for him to walk up the stairs. The second our eyes met, he smiled from ear-to-ear.
Don’t look so excited to see him. Try to downplay it, Gabrielle. “I’ve never seen you outside of your uniform.” Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
“Shorts, huh?”
He towered over me as he stepped over the threshold. “You said it would be a scorcher once we began the baking process.”
His lips melted against my forehead. Oh, God why did Chandler’s lips have to feel like heaven on my skin? His woodsy, citrus cologne lit my core on fire. He smelled good enough to eat. A jolt of energy struck through my entire body. This would become one long night.
I closed the door, and he followed me into the kitchen. He wore khaki shorts, a gray T-shirt that hugged his pecs, and white sneakers.
“I didn’t notice the cloth bag. What’s inside?”
He placed the bottle of wine on the table. “I figured I’d bring a bottle for you. The plan all along was to give you one of the bottles, but you would’ve told me no.”
“You’re right.” I leaned up on my tippy toes and kissed his lips. “Chandler, thank you for the awesome bottle of wine.” I grinned.
“You’re welcome.” His stunned gaze told me he didn’t anticipate my reaction. I’d rejected almost every nice thing he’d done for me. I had to stop.
I crossed my legs at my ankles, balancing all my weight on my elbow against the counter. “Your haircut looks nice.” His brownish, blond short hair was faded on the sides, longer on top, and swept toward the back.
“Thank you. So you’re letting your guard down?”
“Chandler, yes and just so you know, you are the only guy who’s seen the inside of my apartment. Let’s get started. You can wash your hands in the bathroom just outside the kitchen to your right.”
He nodded.
I washed my hands then gathered all the ingredients we needed.
“I have one more surprise,” he stated from behind.
“What’s that?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I peeked at the muscled batman apron he pulled over his head. I burst into laughter.
“That’s sexy.” I winked.
“Yours is as well.” He draped the batgirl apron over my head then tied the back.
“I love it, Chandler. Thank you.”
“I need a picture of us. Don’t worry I’ll wash my hands again.”
He pulled me into his side, then snapped our pic. Who was I kidding? We were adorable together.
“One more.” He faced me, wrapped his arm around my waist, leaned down, taking my lips.
“God, Chandler.”
“I know. We’re magical together.”
He stuffed his cell in his pocket then washed his hands in the kitchen sink. “I will follow your process. It’s been years since I baked.”
“We’ll measure the ingredients first.”
“What’s your favorite item to bake?”
“Pies from scratch.”
His brows rose. “Of course.”
I laughed. “Blueberry pies always turn out so beautiful.”
“Your face lights up when you talk about your passion. Would you like to bake full time?”
“Yes.” I bit my lower lip.
“Where? Out of your kitchen?”
“No, there’s a cute retail space on Peachtree Street. It’s small and perfect. I’ve visited other small bakeries over the years. I love seeing that line out the door which signifies the baked goods are amazing. I want that line. I’ve saved for a long time. Still not enough to cover the cost of renovations for the space.” My smile rose and fell as I sifted the flour. “Anyway, in the meantime, I will continue baking right here. My sister helps sometimes. If you wouldn’t have volunteered, she would’ve assisted me.”
“There are investors who’d love to help make your dream come true.”
My brow rose. “Really?”
“Yeah. Seth happens to be one of them. I could talk to him. You would need to present your business plan. He’d gift twenty percent of the overall cost, then the rest would be a private business loan.”
“Sounds good. Those ingredients sitting next to the mixer pour them in the bowl please.”
He followed my directions.
“How many cakes are we baking at once?”
“Four. Luckily, we only have to bake eight. After the cakes cool, I’ll teach you how to apply the icing. It’s all in the stroke.”
Face plant. OMG, Gabrielle. I peeked up at him.
We laughed.
The buzzer sounded.
“That’s our dinner. I’ll run down and grab it.”
“Ok.”
Chandler didn’t mind how I rambled on about baking. He actually asked tons of questions about my technique. Even if he didn’t care, it was nice to talk to someone about my passion.
We sat on the couch sipping the red wine and eating Chinese food.
“I don’t want to drink too much. We still have to ice the cakes.”
“Ok.”
“Why did you decide to become a firefighter?” I stared at him with intrigue.
His smile vanished. He rubbed his palms on his thighs. “I wanted to save lives. When I was seven, I woke up to the sound of my mother’s voice. She repeatedly yelled ‘fire.’” He never met my gaze. Chandler stared into the distance.
“I hopped out of bed, wrapped my blanket around my body. I touched the door knob and it burned my hand.” He rubbed his palm. “I gripped the knob with the blanket and opened the door. The hallway leading to my mother was engulfed in flames. I could see her crying face in the distance. She begged me to get out. She told me she loved me. I refused to leave. The flames took her just like that in front of me. My lungs filled with smoke and I fell to the floor. Next thing I knew, I was on the grass in my front yard watching my house burn to the ground. Whoever saved my life wasn’t there when the firefighters arrived at the scene. My mother was burned beyond recognition. Only my family, Chief Brennings, and you, know what happened to my mother.”
Tears streamed down my face. I looped my arms around his neck. “That’s the dream you have every night.” He held me tight. I stroked his head.
“Yes,” he breathed into my neck.
“Would you excuse me?”
>
“Yeah.” I retracted my arms. He was a brick wall. Showed no emotions.
He darted into the bathroom.
I was afraid he’d leave. So many questions flooded my brain. Did he relocate to Atlanta because she died? He mentioned his father, but I was curious about their relationship. I walked back into the kitchen and mixed the icing we needed.
The guilt he carried, I imagined was too heavy to bear. I wondered if he ever spoke to a psychiatrist. He ran into burning buildings why?
“I’m ready to learn the frosting technique.” He fell to my side.
“All right, pick up your spatula and just mimic how I turn the plate as I apply the icing.”
He nodded. “Who taught you how to bake?”
“My grandmother, Marcella, on my mom’s side of the family. My sister and me called her granny Cellie,” I snickered.
Chandler smiled.
“We spent time at her house most summers. When she baked, she sang in Spanish.” I smiled at the memory.
“Is she Latin?”
“She’s Puerto Rican. I don’t speak a lot of Spanish, but I know enough to get by,” I chuckled.
“My mom, Clarisa and sister Erica can bake too. My sister’s the only one who doesn’t care to bake.” I smirked.
“But she supports me. If I need help, she’s here in a heartbeat.”
“That’s cool.”
“Is your father Puerto Rican too?”
“No, my dad Levi is black and my mother is Puerto Rican and black.”
“We’re all mixed up. Only adds to our culture.”
“I can’t wait to learn all about your culture.” His lips fell against mine.
My lips picked up at both ends after our kiss.
“When do you drop off the order?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“I can take you.”
“No, that’s unnecessary.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m in the process of purchasing a new house. It’s not a big house. It’s more like a one floor ranch. But contemporary. Seth said it was hard for him to find the house in Buckhead.”
“He sells real estate too?”
“Yes. My uncle Dirk and his wife Violet own a real estate company. So Seth and Sebastian still sell real estate on the side.”
“Sure, I’d like that. Why did you move to Atlanta?”
“Sebastian thought I needed a change of scenery. This isn’t my first time living here. When I was a teenager, I lived with my uncle Dirk and his family. The death of my mother Sara broke his heart. Hayden and Victoria’s mother, Joanne, is my mother’s sister. They worry about me till this day. They were excited when I said I was moving back here.”
“That’s good you have a family that cares about you. What about your father?”
“I’d rather not talk about him.”
“Ok.” His father was off limits. He was hiding something. Not sure what? At least he had a good support system.
“Your cake looks pretty good. Six more to go.” I smirked.
* * *
An hour later, I walked him to the door.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”
He pulled me into his big, strong arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven.”
“Yes.” I pushed back from him.
“Have a good night.”
“Can you look at me?”
“Chandler, no.”
“Why?”
I pondered on my answer. “You chose your job why?”
He sighed. “To save lives.”
“Chandler, tell the truth.”
He glanced at the ceiling then back at me. “I couldn’t save my mother. What’s wrong with me wanting to save someone else’s life?”
“How far are you willing to go?”
He clutched his fists at his sides. “I’m the first one in and the last firefighter out most times.”
“Jesus, Chandler.” My hand flew over my mouth. “So, you are putting everyone else’s life above yours? Where do I fit into all of this? Am I supposed to be ok with you possibly dying too soon, because you just had to save that one person who really couldn’t be saved?”
I tightly gripped my head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Chandler.”
He cupped my face. “I want to be here for you. For the first time in my life, I wanted something meaningful. I live a lonely life. My team drags me out to the bar. If they didn’t, I’d sit in the house and stew in my grief. It consumes me. I’m really trying. That’s why I never approached you. I wanted you, Gabrielle. I wanted you to be mine from the first moment I laid eyes on you.
“You have to want to live for you too, Chandler.”
His head dropped against mine. “You’re right.”
“You don’t have to tell me why you and your father have a strained relationship, but one day you will.”
“Ok.”
“See you tomorrow, Chandler.”
“Bye, Gabrielle.”
Everyone had problems and struggled to deal with them. Mine was believing a relationship could stand the test of time. For the first time, I was willing to try.
8
Chandler
Gabrielle tried to pull every skeleton bone from my closet tonight. One missed call.
I listened to the voicemail.
“Chandler, it’s Dad. I love you and miss you. I know you won’t, but call sometimes...”
I tossed my cell across the bed. Boy, good old John didn’t give up. He was to blame for mom’s death.
My brother Brian didn’t blame him. That weekend my brother and me were supposed to go with dad on a male bonding fishing trip, but I refused. I wanted to stay home with mom.
The report I received from the private investigator proved what I already knew. An arsonist set the fire at our house. I wasn’t supposed to be there. He also uncovered that mom was having an affair. It was convenient dad and Brian were away. I wouldn’t have needed to be saved if I’d gone on the trip. Who was the mystery man who rescued me? It was time to meet him.
* * *
Early Saturday morning, I received a call from my grandfather.
“Pretty early for you to be calling? Gearing up for an early tee time?”
“Hello to you too, grandson. How long are you going to shut out this side of your family?”
“Forever.”
“Chandler, you don’t mean that. Listen, you’ve traveled the world. You’ve been fighting fires for a few years now. It’s time to come home and fulfill your legacy.”
I smirked as I retrieved the orange juice from the refrigerator.
“It was only a matter of time before you called again. You have Dad and Brian. You don’t need me.”
“Nonsense. This is your birthright.”
“I love you, grandfather. I don’t want to run the company. I’m happy doing what I do.”
“You run around that town as Chandler Cassady instead of Cassidy with an I. It’s only a matter of time before everyone learns who you really are. The heir to a billion-dollar energy windmill and solar energy corporation. I see you are still living off the first ten-million-dollar trust fund payout.”
“I make good money as a firefighter. Besides, Uncle Dirk insisted on purchasing my first house. It’s in a town called Buckhead. Not far from my job.”
“He did. But I called Seth myself and wired the money to purchase the house.”
I almost dropped the glass of orange juice. “Grandfather, why?”
“You’re forcing my hand. I’ll give you two months. Then Brian’s coming to get you and bring you home. You will run this company with your brother on your twenty-fifth birthday. I love you, Chandler.”
He disconnected the call not allowing me to object. “Fuck!” I hurled the glass of orange juice across the kitchen. The glass shattered into little bitty pieces.
Talk about not giving a shit about what I wanted. That was my grandfather. He wanted his heirs to run our corporation. I understood. Every wealthy old man wa
nted their family to run the company. They didn’t trust anyone else.
I loaded the cake boxes into the backseat of my pickup truck. “Where to?” I asked, climbing behind the steering wheel.
She texted the address to me. I placed my cell on the dashboard. The map blurted out my first turn.
“I can’t believe you are using the map feature. I thought maybe you knew how to get around every part of this city.”
“In Atlanta. Not Decatur. I believe we assisted as backup around the airport. That was the only time I’d worked outside our district.”
“Oh, ok.”
My stress was mounting, but I couldn’t let Gabrielle know my life was unraveling. Eventually, I’d have to tell her who I was. “Do you have any other cake orders coming up?”
“Nope. I have two orders to fill the last week in July. So, I have a week off.”
I smiled. “Good. We can spend time together.”
“Yeah, we can.” She blushed.
* * *
After we delivered the cakes, I drove to my new house. Couldn’t believe grandfather purchased this place. What if I had changed my mind? He wouldn’t have cared. He would have sold the property and turned a profit. Buckhead was one of the top cities in Atlanta. You could always make more money on your investment if you sold a Buckhead property.
“This is it.” The truck rolled to a stop in the driveway and I threw it in park.
“Chandler, it’s beautiful.”
“I love the cedar wood against the black trim. Nice touch.”
“I thought so too.” I unlocked the door and extended my hand. “After you. The outside of the house drew me in. Especially, the oversized windows. I’ll add solar energy panels to the roof.”
“Wow, you already had a seventy-five-inch TV delivered. Did you close the deal this morning?”
“Yup,” I lied. Grandfather closed on the house behind my back.
“Oh, Chandler, there’s a note on the box.”
Enjoy your housewarming gift.
Love, Jack.
Her eyes widened. “Who’s Jack?”
“My grandfather. His first name is my middle name.”