Burning Up (Flirting With Fire Book 1) Page 13

  “Anthony.”

  “Anthony, I’m going to take your vitals and see how you’re doing, man,” Hollywood said, setting his gear on the ground next to Anthony’s feet.

  “Can I just finish this up real quick?” He jutted his chin toward the TV.

  Jake exchanged a “Are you fucking kidding me?” glance with Reece.

  “You take anything lately?” Hollywood asked, ignoring Anthony and digging into his gear.

  “Just some hash and a few beers.” It was nice when people were honest about what they’d smoked. Better than twenty minutes beating around the bush until they were hauled off in an ambulance.

  Hollywood nodded, grabbing the blood-pressure cuff from the med kit and securing it around Anthony’s rail-thin arm.

  “Blood pressure one twenty over seventy.” He procured a flashlight and continued to check his eyes. “Slight nystagmus in the pupils, which would be consistent with alcohol and drug use.”

  Jake’s adrenaline began to fade as he realized this call was a waste of their time. Working with the public was great, but he actually wanted to help people.

  “Sir, why did you call us?” Reece asked.

  They saw a lot of calls like this—people too high to function, people out of their minds from a bad trip. But this guy just looked . . . comfortable.

  The sports car on the screen crashed into a lake, and Anthony glanced up at them for the first time since they’d arrived. “I ordered Chinese food.”

  “What kind?” Reece asked.

  “Chow mein, lo mein. Every type of mein, man.” The guy chuckled to himself. “But I realized I don’t have any money to pay the guy. But then I thought,” he said, slurring and pointing a finger to his forehead. “Figured firefighters like to eat.” He shrugged.

  “Sir, you called us to pay for your food?” Jake asked.

  “Didn’t want it to go to waste,” Anthony said.

  Christ. This man was the same age as he was. Except this guy’s life was held together by four paper-thin walls and takeout food. “You know who loves food more than us?” Jake said.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “The police,” Jake said.

  “I’m sure whichever officer that shows up would love to eat your Chinese food,” Reece added.

  Anthony threw up his arms. “Man, you are so smart. That’s a great idea.”

  Jake chuckled under his breath. The guy was too high to realize he was going to be booked. It’d almost be worth it to stick around long enough for the cops to show up. They all grabbed their gear, and just as they were passing into the kitchen, the guy shouted, “Can one of you throw me the remote?”

  “Sure, man.” Jake grabbed it off the counter and tossed it onto the couch next to the guy. “Have a nice day.”

  Jake shook off his annoyance as he walked out of the apartment. Sure, he was happy the guy was fine, but this wasn’t the best way to start his shift. The adrenaline that kicked in at the start of every call hardened into a solid brick in his stomach.

  Once they got out to the engine and deposited their gear, Reece said, “I could have gone for lo mein.”

  “Same.” Jake cracked a smile and chuckled. With these types of situations, they had two choices: get pissed or laugh it off. For the sake of Jake’s sanity, he chose the latter.

  They made it back to the station, everything just the way they’d left it. While Reece and Hollywood made their way to the weight room, Jake headed to the bathroom to get his cleaning duties out of the way. He was busy scrubbing the toilet bowl when Reece walked in.

  He leaned against the door frame, watching.

  Jake kept his gaze trained to the task at hand, but he could feel Reece’s stare burning into the back of his head.

  “You know, if you’re just going to stand there and watch, by all means make use of the extra scrubber.” Jake jutted his chin toward the cleaning kit.

  “You gonna tell me what’s up with my sister?”

  Jake scrubbed harder, focusing on a spot in the center of the bowl. “What are you talking about?”

  “She got weird at the party. And you left like your ass was on fire.”

  “Didn’t notice.” Hell, someone without eyes and ears could probably feel the awkwardness at that party.

  “Bullshit. Did something happen between you two?”

  “Aw, man. I’m thirty-two, not senile. I know how you feel about me even looking at your sister wrong.” He didn’t like omitting some facts, but it was better this way.

  Jake’s cheeks burned, and he cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on the toilet. He liked that about Reece. No bullshitting. They said what they meant and put it all out there. No guesswork. Nothing like how he’d felt this past weekend with Erin.

  “You’re a grown-ass man. You can do what you want.”

  “Well, you don’t have anything to worry about. Nothing’s going to happen.” Again.

  He could still feel the weight of her palm slicking across the top of his dress pants. The way her red nails bit into the fabric, driving him wild.

  “You know, Jake, you are allowed to have fun once in a while.” He sighed and tapped his hand against the door frame. “I don’t know the first thing about parenting, but I’m sure there’s something in the handbook that says you don’t need to take a vow to priesthood or anything.” He lifted a finger. “I’m not saying to break that vow with my sister, though.”

  “I have fun.”

  Reece raised a brow. “When was the last time you went out?”

  He shook out the toilet brush and chucked it back into the container. “We barbecued the other week.”

  “I’m not talking about with the guys.”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t know. And since when are you so interested in my love life?”

  “When you look like you’re so wound up you’re going to burst a vessel in that pretty face of yours.”

  “Don’t let Hollywood hear you say that. He might get jealous.” He was wound tight. Enough that just the damn thought of Erin got him hard.

  “Just saying, it’d do you some good to get out there. Bailey’s gone for a few weeks. Take advantage.” He shrugged.

  There were a lot of factors keeping him from dating. His job, mainly. He worked crazy hours nonconducive to relationships. He worked holidays, weekends, you name it. The only reason his family put up with it was because they had to. He’d never ask that of anyone else. And then there was Bailey. He’d been down this road before and wouldn’t let her get hurt.

  “Just go out and have some fun. Something other than barbecues with us.”

  Jake nodded. Maybe Reece was right.

  He hadn’t wanted someone so bad in a long time, not like the way he throbbed for Erin. His daughter was gone for three weeks. What would one date hurt? He’d use this opportunity to get her out of his system. For good.

  Before he had more time to think about it, the tones went off again. And like everything else, he dropped everything to do his job.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Erin wiped the sweat beading on her brow and snuck to the back of the Airstream for a quick break. Even after her coffee date with her friends yesterday, she still felt on edge about this past weekend. Her sister had taken over the register and food prep since there was a lull in customers. With a quick glance to make sure no one was looking, she pulled out her own homemade sandwich. Except hers didn’t contain their mom’s perfected recipe that had earned them celebrity status in the downtown food-truck community. No, this one was slathered with layer upon layer of Jif. Yes, Erin was a traitor to her own flesh and blood. The guilt-trip ship had sailed years ago, and now she was left with a vessel named the Zero-Shits-Given. She’d captained this boat for years. No chance in trading her in now.

  She sat on a crate, letting the oscillating fan ruffle her matted bangs. To think, just last weekend, she’d been with Jake. All over him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What had she been thinking? She still couldn’t get their cringe-worthy conversation
out of her head.

  This is for the best. She had to believe that because it meant that a new job was just around the corner, and she’d be out of here and never have to live through the embarrassment of seeing him again.

  Andie finished washing a knife in the wash bin, dropped it onto the drying rack, and wiped her hands on a fresh towel. “Can you hand these flyers out to some of the local businesses? Mom asked me to do that yesterday, but we got swamped.” She pointed to the stack of pink flyers that advertised a buy-one-get-one-free event for all the food carts in Periwinkle Circle. The food-cart community was a tight-knit group of people who worked together to make sure people continued to come to their end of Twenty-Third. Her mom often headed the fund-raisers and was basically the matriarch in the community.

  “Sure.” She snatched the flyers off the counter. Anything to get herself out of her head for a few minutes.

  Erin made her way down the bustling streets of the Northwest District. Twenty-Third Avenue was a gem in downtown. Tearoom windows displaying decadent macarons, the smell of berry jams and Nutella crepes wafting out of bakery-shop doors, you name it. She stretched her neck, tilting her face toward the early-morning sun peeking over the buildings. Indie music wafted out of open storefront doors, tunes that beckoned customers to take a look at eclectic pieces.

  Downtown Portland in the morning had been one of Erin’s favorite things as a kid. Store owners setting up shop, watering plants on the sidewalk, everyone waving a cheery hello. They might have been doing it with two-inch plugs in their ears and full-sleeve tattoos, but this was about as Brady Bunch–esque as a city could get without being on a film set. She had to admit that this city did hold a certain amount of charm.

  She crossed the street, and a unicyclist walking his Chihuahua whizzed by, going in the other direction. Traffic was light this morning. Most of the rush would take place an hour from now. After making her way past her favorite lunch spot, Papa Giermo’s, she opened the door to Olivia’s, Portland’s best baked-goods shop, nestled between a coffee roaster and a bicycle-repair place.

  The bell above the door dinged as she entered the shop. The smell of dough, sugar, and fruit hugged her like a warm blanket the second her feet hit the checkered black-and-white tile floor. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. Heaven, she thought.

  “Oh my goodness. Erin? Is that you?”

  Olivia, the shop owner, dropped a piece of dough she’d been kneading and sped around the glass display cases, wrapping her arms around her.

  “Hi, Olivia.” Olivia smelled just like her sweets. A hint of cherry and vanilla, sugar, and something that Erin could describe only as love. She was in her midfifties and, last Erin knew, moonlighted in a band called the Purple Eggplants. Basically, Olivia was a badass Betty Crocker. “It’s been too long.”

  For the first time since she’d been in town, she actually meant it.

  “Come. Sit down. Tell me what you’ve been up to.” She motioned toward a set of ice-cream-parlor chairs set up in the corner of the store. Nothing in here had changed since she’d last seen it, which suited this place just fine. Olivia’s held a timeless facade that promised handmade pastries and hardworking people.

  She took a seat in one of the chairs across from Olivia, who looked at her expectantly.

  “What have I been up to . . .” She trailed off, buying herself some time to think. She thumbed the flyers, staring at the awards lining the bakery wall.

  What had she been up to since she’d been gone? All she could really come up with was teaching. And a lot of boxed wine. Which tended to go hand in hand. But had that really been all she’d done? Ten years gone and she had nothing to show for herself.

  “Just working. Job hunting now.”

  Olivia’s face brightened. “Here in Portland?”

  “As of now, no.” Whoa, what was with the wishy-washy answer? If anyone else had asked her, it was always a firm “Hell no.” “I’m home for the summer,” she amended. “Helping out my mom. Oh, that reminds me.” She held up the flyer. “The food carts in Periwinkle Circle are all having a sale this weekend. Can I put a poster up in your shop?”

  “Of course. Always happy to help out the other local businesses.” Olivia grabbed one of the posters and stuck it to the corkboard at the entrance to the shop. Then she nabbed a cherry tart from the display case, plopped it onto a pristine white plate, and placed it in front of Erin. “I’ve been keeping up with your mom’s escapades online. Such a hoot.”

  Say what? “Huh, yeah.” She must have meant whatever her brother posted. Sometimes she’d see the occasional post about something funny her mom had done.

  She took a bite of the tart, and her eyes rolled back into her head. Just as good as she remembered. Reece and Erin used to go to Olivia’s almost daily when they were kids. She would load them up on sugar and then let them read their library books at the very table she was sitting at now. How many Baby-Sitters Club books had she devoured while eating Olivia’s baked goods? For the first time that day, she smiled. “Oh my God. Still amazing. Thank you.”

  “Cherry tarts are always on the house for a Jenkins.”

  It feels good to be back.

  Whoa. Where had that thought come from? All these childhood memories getting stirred up were obviously messing with her head. Is that why Andie had sent her out here? Did she know she’d feel this overwhelming sense of homesickness as she passed each shop? She shook off that thought. Andie probably just didn’t want to walk around, passing out flyers.

  “I should get going. Lots of flyers to pass out.” She stood and gave Olivia a hug.

  “Don’t be a stranger. It’s good to see your face around here.”

  Erin nodded, feeling suddenly nostalgic. Everything in this town seemed to have stayed the same over the years.

  Walking down these streets brought back so many memories. This town was such a big part of her childhood. And yet, now she was an outsider. Someone who didn’t belong in either place at the moment.

  She shook off that feeling and took the last bite of her cherry tart. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she quickly chewed and swallowed before answering.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Erin Jenkins?” Her pulse ticked in her ears. Only three types of people called her. Red Cross, telemarketers, and job interviewers.

  If it was the first two, she was going to get really stabby. And possibly need more sweets.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Brenda from Highland Prep. We’ve reviewed your application and résumé and were wondering if you’d be interested in coming in for an interview this week.”

  She frowned. “I’d love to, but I’m visiting family in Oregon.” Seriously, that’d be her luck to land an interview and not be able to catch a flight down to California to be there.

  “No problem. We can do a video chat. How does tomorrow sound?”

  How did that sound? The patrons walking down Twenty-Third Avenue were currently getting a glimpse of Erin’s happy dance, complete with “Walk Like an Egyptian” moves. Surprisingly, there was no side-eye action from anyone.

  “I appreciate the opportunity,” she said. They exchanged contact information, and Erin hung up.

  She let out a squeal, clutching her phone.

  See? All that weirdness was for nothing. She’d rock the interview tomorrow, spend some more time with her best friends, and in a few weeks, still be on track to moving back home. Whatever fondness she felt for staying here was obviously just the fact that she missed her friends. That was it.

  Forty minutes and a whole block later, Erin had passed out the majority of the flyers. Andie could do the rest on her next break. She didn’t care if her sister gave her the stink eye. Nothing could bring her down from cloud nine. Because she was going to make this interview work. No matter what.

  She made her way back to the food truck, and in the distance, her sister’s blonde head poked out of the window, chatting up a customer. Andie had always been a little prickly around
the edges, but from the already-full tip jar sitting to the side of the window before the major lunch rush, she was doing just fine with the customers. She handed the guy a sandwich, and he turned around.

  Erin’s stomach clenched at the sight of Jake.

  The euphoria from the job-interview high came to a crashing halt. Those extra posters? Now would be a great time to hand them out. No need to have Andie do it. That idea was in full motion, until Jake spotted Erin and waved.

  Damn. There went the escape plan.

  Had their awkward interaction at her party not been enough? He really must be a glutton for punishment. She squared her shoulders and walked up to where he stood near a bench. “What are you doing here?”

  “If you keep asking that, I’m going to get a complex.” He smiled. “I was in the neighborhood.”

  She shot him a look. The only things to see this far down Twenty-Third were the food trucks. After that, it was all residential. And unless he was rolling in Scrooge McMoneybags type of dough, he wasn’t living on this side of town.

  He shook his head. “That was a lie. I wanted to see you.”

  “Yeah?” Her heart raced in her chest. Stop it. Jake is just like every other guy. No need for the palpitations. Her body wasn’t getting the memo.

  He nodded, and for a second, he looked like the shy boy she’d known back in elementary school. Before he’d gone from sweet guy to heartbreaker. He swallowed hard and stared at the sandwich in his hands. “Bailey left for camp yesterday.”

  “How’s that going?” So they were going to play the small-talk game. She’d go along with it. But it still didn’t explain why he was here.

  “She made it to Stanford safe and sound.” His thumbs dug at the foil sandwich wrapper.

  “You don’t seem convinced.”

  “This is the first time she’s been away for so long,” he said, his gaze unfocused.

  “I can’t imagine.” And it was true. Although she worked with kids on a daily basis, she saw each of them for only an hour a day, and then they were gone. A full-time gig seemed like . . . an insane amount of work she was nowhere near ready to handle.