Page 13 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

Dustin

I believe in rules. Sure I do.

If there weren't any rules, how could you break them?

~ Leo Durocher

Emberleigh smiles at me from across the table and I fight the urge to stare at her.

I haven’t been the recipient of many of her smiles—yet.

Can you blame a man for indulging just a little in the spoils of his efforts?

All I wanted was this. A truce. To hear her say we could be friends.

That and regular blueberry-lemon donuts.

But I’d even give those up to see her like this—relaxed and happy.

She takes more bites of her pasta and I turn my focus to my food. We eat in silence, glancing at one another occasionally.

Don’t fall .

Where did that thought even come from? I’m not falling. Obviously. We just met.

But that statement, We aren’t dating. And we won’t ever …

It’s just so final. Am I that repulsive to her that she could never imagine giving me a chance?

I didn’t move to Waterford to find a girlfriend.

Definitely not to fall in love. I took this job because I’ve always wanted to be a fireman.

That, and I wanted to be in Tennessee—near Nashville.

I won’t ever be a country music star, but at least I can live near the heartbeat of the music scene, get some gigs with crowds who love country tunes, and toss my hat in the ring if I ever have a chance.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks after she takes a sip of water and sets her cup on the table between us.

“Music.”

I’m about to say more when my phone rings.

“Excuse me,” I say, looking down at the screen. “Oh. It’s my mom. I’ll call her back.”

“You can take it.”

“You sure?”

Emberleigh nods, so I press the green icon.

My mother’s voice booms through. “Dustin!”

“Mom? I’m here. Why are you shouting?”

“Your brother and sister are here. Your dad’s on his way home. I want everyone to hear me.”

“We can hear you, Mom,” my brother, Stevens, says calmly.

“Yes. I know that, dear. You’re right here on the island. Dustin is all the way across the country.”

“I don’t think that’s how phones work, Mom,” my sister Mitzi says. “I’m pretty sure Dustin can hear you as well as we can. That is, unless you just ruptured his eardrum with that greeting.”

“Ha. Ha,” Mom says, in a less overpowering volume. “Everyone’s a comedian. Clownin’ with the best of them.”

I miss her. Those ill-fitting slang terms feel like home to me.

“What did you need?” I ask my family.

“Do we have to need something to call you?” Mom asks.

“No. I’m just checking because I’m having dinner and I …” shouldn’t tell my mother I’m at dinner with a female.

“You’re what?” Mom asks. “Dinner? This late? Isn’t it eight or something where you are?”

“It’s seven forty-five. And yes. Dinner. I was at the station, but I took a dinner break, so I’m just now sitting to eat.”

“Well, you can eat and talk. Nothing ever stopped you from multitasking at mealtime before,” Mom says.

“Maybe he’s with someone,” Mitzi unhelpfully suggests.

“Are you?” Mom demands.

“I … actually am.”

I look over at Emberleigh. She’s sitting back in her chair, studying me while she takes a bite of her half of our sandwich.

“Is it a girl?” Mom’s voice is filled with hope and more than a dash of pressure.

“It is.” I smile at Emberleigh.

“Oooh! A date! The rizzler’s gonna rizz,” Mom gushes.

I don’t know what half the terms she uses mean, but I do know that one. It means someone who attracts a lot of female attention.

“What even is that, Mom?” Mitzi asks.

“Okay,” I cut my family off. “I’ve gotta go. Nice talking to you. I’ll call back later.”

It’s okay , Emberleigh mouths from across the table.

No. It’s not , I mouth back.

“Dustin, I want to meet this girl,” Mom says.

“No.” I shake my head and widen my eyes in Emberleigh’s direction. She grins.

My mom , I barely whisper. She’s ridiculous .

Emberleigh smiles a little more fully. For a brief moment I think I see a wistfulness cross her face, but then she’s smiling softly at me again.

I don’t know what comes over me.

I hit the speaker button.

“Mom, Stevens, Mitzi, this is Emberleigh. She’s the local baker, and … my friend.”

Emberleigh nods her approval of the label I give our relationship. Obviously, we’re not fake dating when it comes to our families, but we’re not exactly telling them we’re about to enter into a farce on television either.

“Hi, Emberleigh,” Mom shouts. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Mom, she’s not hard of hearing,” Mitzi chides. Then she says, “Hi, Emberleigh. Are you the one with the donuts my brother hasn’t stopped talking about?”

Emberleigh looks up at me, her eyebrows raised. I shrug. What can I say? They’re the best donuts I’ve ever had. I might have raved about them during some family texts and calls.

“Nice to meet you,” Emberleigh says. “Yes. I bake donuts. Your brother seems to like the blueberry-lemon quite a bit.”

She’s not looking at me. Her eyes are fixed on the phone sitting between us on the table.

“I do,” I admit. “A lot.”

“Hi, Emberleigh,” my brother says, “I’m Stevens, Dustin’s older brother. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Emberleigh smiles softly.

I like her meeting my family. It feels like tying two loose ends together.

Not that she’s anything to me. She’s taken up far too many hours of mental deliberation since I moved to Waterford—all because she was my first rescue and the cause of so much teasing at the station.

She’s become a mission of sorts—winning her over.

And now, I suppose, we’re friends. Having her meet three of the most important people in my life means something to me, even if I can’t quite figure out why.

“Well, we’ve got to go,” I say, trying to prevent my mom from saying anything too irrevocable and humiliating.

“So soon?” Mom asks. “We’ve barely said hello.”

“Dustin tells me you own your own taco shop, Mitzi,” Emberleigh says.

My eyes snap to hers. She’s actually continuing the conversation?

She obviously has no clue the ramifications of engaging with my mom.

Don’t get me wrong. My mom’s amazing. Delightful.

One of my favorite people on earth. But she’s like a shark.

When she smells blood in the water, everything else becomes instantly irrelevant.

She’s a determined, fanatical underwater missile aiming straight for the source.

“My place is called Mitzi’s Tacos,” Mitzi answers. “Having my own business is a dream come true. Most days.”

“Tell me about it,” Emberleigh says. “I always wanted my own bakery. I didn’t realize the full scope of what I was asking for. Employees, overhead, inventory, the long hours …”

“Exactly!” my sister exclaims. “Girl. I’m going to have to get your number from Dustin. I can always use another female entrepreneur to vent to.”

“Uh …” I stammer.

“Sure,” Emberleigh says. “I’d love that. I do have a partner, Sydney. She’s been my best friend since childhood. We run the shop together, even though I own the majority share in the business.”

She does? Interesting.

“Well, Emberleigh, you sound positively delightful,” Mom says. “Are you single?”

“Mom!” I say in unison with my siblings.

“What?” she answers with a faux innocence dripping from the word.

“Stop please, Mom,” Stevens says in that solid, self-controlled tone he always uses.

We’re such opposites. My older brother is steady and predictable. Never seeks the limelight. I’m the jokester, the class clown, the one who always kept Mom on her toes. I don’t exactly crave the limelight, but I’m rarely found in the shadows.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stop whatever it is that you kids think I’m doing. I’m just trying to get to know the young woman who’s on a date with my son. So sue me.”

“We’re not on a date,” Emberleigh and I say in unison. Our eyes catch and we share a private smile.

“Oh.” Mom’s voice is neutral. “Oh,” she says a second time with more disappointment.

“We’re friends, Mom. Just friends.”

“Friends is a great start,” she says. “Your dad and I were friends. A lot can …”

“Okay, Mom,” Mitzi interrupts. “We’d better let them get back to their dinner.”

“But you are single?” Mom asks again.

“I am,” Emberleigh says. And then she adds, “Happily.”

“Oh, dear. Well, okay,” Mom says. “Maybe if you just …”

“I’ll call you later, Mom.”

“Okay, Dustin. We’ll let you go,” Mitzi says quickly.

We all say our goodbyes and then I click the end call icon.

“Sorry about that,” I say to Emberleigh.

“They’re adorable.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Really. You all seem so close.”

“We are. Family is everything.”

She nods, but doesn’t add anything about her own family.

“Do you miss them?” she asks.

“I haven’t had much time to miss them, but … yeah. I do.”

We stare at one another. The moment is comfortable, but it feels like it could quickly turn awkward.

“Okay,” I say, reaching for the box with our dessert. “Who saved room for tiramisu?”

“I definitely always have room for dessert,” Emberleigh says.

I crack open the box and hand her a clean plastic fork. “Ladies first.”

She presses her fork into the soft cake and lifts the bite to her mouth. I watch and wait for her reaction.

“Mmmmm,” she hums.

I take a bite. “Delicious. Man, this is good. I think I found my new favorite Italian place.”

“Really?”

“In Waterford? Yes.”

We take turns taking bites. Neither of us says much. We don’t talk about my family or hers, even though I want to ask her a hundred questions.

As we’re finishing our dessert, I circle back to our conversation about all these rules Emberleigh thinks we need.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about when it comes to your rules,” I assure her.

“Our rules,” she says with a softer smile than earlier.

“Our rules, right. I’m sure we’ll be fine. You’re a rule-follower.”

I regret the way it sounds the minute the words are out of my mouth. I mean it as a compliment. My brother, Stevens, is a rule-follower. He’s done amazing things with his life. Always coloring inside the lines seems to have served him well.