Page 16 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

Emberleigh

The measure of a superhero is always his nemesis.

~ David Lyons

“Danger at two o’clock,” Syd says, popping through from the kitchen, tying her apron strings and tipping her head toward the doorway.

I glance up just in time to see Vanessa sauntering through the door.

Not today. Please, no. Our third oven is being finicky again, so we’ve been getting creative to try to keep to our baking schedule.

The morning included a preschool tour, then a bulk order for the Henderson Family Reunion and it’s not even lunchtime.

Syd is just now returning from an “errand” that she said was important, but she wouldn’t say what it was.

I’m ready to turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED for the day, and in walks Vanessa. Did I say “walks”? It’s more of a calculated prowl.

“Where were you, anyway?” I ask her.

“Just had to … run an errand. Like I said.”

I’d press Syd for details, but Vanessa’s closing in.

“Well, good mornin’,” Vanessa says as she approaches the counter. “How’s business?”

“Good,” Syd says. “And none of yours.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

“Funny you should say that,” Vanessa eyes Syd.

Her gaze turns pointedly toward me. “I heard you entered the contest.”

“Mm hmm,” I force a noncommittal tone. Then I turn and check the espresso machine, wiping the already-clean spout.

“I was quite certain you had to have a partner to enter that. A non-baking partner.”

She taps her nails on the glass display case as if I owe her an explanation.

“Mm hmm.” I look around for another task to preoccupy myself.

“Sooo …” Vanessa says. “What’s your angle? Did you pay someone? Or is Drew back in town?”

Drew . My ex-boyfriend who left town and never looked back. Left me without a second thought. The one whose family made a point of excluding me from every holiday and special event just to demonstrate their lack of approval of me.

“Drew who?” Syd says. “Do you know a Drew, Emberleigh?”

I smile at her. I love when she goes all mama-bear on my behalf. She’s the living definition of a ride-or-die.

“I think the name rings a bell. No one I know these days.”

“Ha ha,” Vanessa says. “So, what is it? Are you paying someone? That’s against the rules, you know.”

“No. She’s not paying anyone,” Syd says, turning and propping a hand on her now-jutted hip. “Emberleigh is dating someone. He can’t bake to save his life and he’s entering the contest with her.”

“Oh.” Vanessa seems deflated, but only for a moment. “Wait. You have a boyfriend?”

I’d give Syd a scolding if I could, but obviously I need to play along.

“Yes. It’s a newish relationship,” I say, looking Vanessa in the eyes, and then wishing I hadn’t.

“But they’re serious and they are definitely dating—exclusively,” Syd adds. “He’s her partner on and off the baking sheets.”

Oh, Syd. Once she’s on a roll, she’s like a snowball going downhill post-avalanche.

“Reaaallly?” Vanessa draws out the word. “Well, do tell. Who is this partner of yours?”

“Dustin.” His name feels foreign on my tongue.

My face flushes unexpectedly.

“The new rookie fireman?” Vanessa’s eyes go wide.

“Mm hmm.” I nod, afraid to say anything else.

“That’s right,” Syd says proudly. “The fireman. The man who’s built like a tree, only if a tree were one hundred years old and funny and knew how to flirt.”

Vanessa and I both give Syd confused looks.

“You know? A tree … how it gets bigger each year? … Whatever,” Syd huffs. “You know what I mean.”

“The rookie? And you …” Vanessa scoffs. “... are dating?” She looks so flabbergasted.

Is the thought of me and Dustin together so inconceivable?

And like a match to dry paper, that expression of disbelief on Vanessa’s face starts something crackling deep within me, sparking until I’m blazing hot.

“Yes. We’re dating. He brought me dinner the other night, we talked for hours … I even met his family over the phone.”

I rest a hand on my hip in a mirror of Syd’s posture and meet Vanessa’s stare. I should feel triumphant. But I don’t. Not even close.

Vanessa just won this match. She came in here to rile me up and she achieved her goal.

I pour a cold bucket of water on my internal inferno and cool my features.

“It’s new, but it’s …” I begin to amend my previous vehemence.

What is it? What are we?

I think of that night, the one I just flaunted like a cheap T-shirt at a two-for-one sale.

It was thoughtful of Dustin to bring me a meal.

We crossed some invisible line that evening—actually became friends—and I just threw it in Vanessa’s face.

Why? So I could feel better than her? To prove to her that I could date a man like Dustin if I really wanted to?

Or, even more, that there would be some way on earth a man like him would possibly be interested in a woman like me?

Not that I want him. Or that he’s so out of my league. I don’t even have a league anymore. But she doesn’t need to know that. Of all people, she does not need to know.

“Well, that’s highly interesting news,” Vanessa says.

The expression on her face makes me nervous. Her eyes narrow and focus on me like a snake’s just before pouncing on some unwitting prey.

“Can we get you a donut?” Syd offers. “On the house. You can consider it your consolation prize.”

“Consolation prize?”

“Everyone knows you want a fireman husband, Vanessa.”

“I’ll pass on the donut, Sydney.” Vanessa glances back and forth between the two of us. “I never said I wanted a fireman husband. But don’t you worry. What I want, I get.”

She turns on her heel and walks out.

“I used to like her,” I tell Syd as soon as the door shuts behind Vanessa.

I sink back, resting on the edge of the counter and releasing a long sigh.

“You like everyone,” Syd says. “Which is usually admirable. Today? Debatable.”

“I think she’s changed over the years.”

“Sharpened her claws is more like it. She was never nice.”

“Maybe. I guess so. Why do I feel bad for her right now?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No. I don’t know why, but think about it. Walking around the town you grew up in, always outdressing everyone, picking fights instead of making friends, flirting with every man in a uniform and never ending up with one of them … it’s sad.”

“Well, now that you put it that way, I almost feel awful for defending you.” Syd pauses. “But, nope. No I don’t. She came in here to mess with you—on your turf.”

“Yeah. She did.” I push myself away from the counter when the bell over the door tinkles. “Thanks for always having my back.”

“I’ve got your back, your front, your top, your bottom …”

We both start to laugh. “Maybe not my bottom,” I say, looking up just in time to see a set of blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“What about your bottom?” Dustin asks without any shame.

Syd cracks up and unhelpfully walks through the swinging doors leading into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Dustin.

“Nothing. At all. It’s been a morning.”

“Bad?”

“Actually, it’s fine. I’m fine. It will all be fine.”

Dustin studies me. “You don’t look fine.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I don’t mean that you look … I mean … You look great, as always. You just look like something’s bothering you.”

“It’s nothing.”

Syd pops her head out from the kitchen. “By nothing, she means Vanessa just popped by. It might have been better if a twister had torn the shop in two.”

“Syd!” I scold. “I thought you were in the kitchen.”

“I am in the kitchen. See?” She pops the door more fully open and waves her hand in a line above the threshold.

“Want to tell me about it over a donut and a cup of coffee?” Dustin asks me.

“She does,” Syd says. “That’s the best idea ever.”

“Syd!” I warn.

“Okay. Okay. I’m shutting the door. Have a nice chat.”

I shake my head and return my focus to Dustin, who is looking very amused.

“Are you serious?” I ask him.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? We’re friends. Friends tell one another about their troubles. I want a donut and coffee. Sounds like a win-win to me.”

“Um. Okay.”

I don’t even ask him what flavor he wants. The case next to the one where I’m standing only has two blueberry-lemon left.

“One or two?”

“Depends. Are you having one?”

“Uh … sure. Yes. I’ll have one.”

Why not? I rarely eat my own baked goods even though everyone in town raves about them, and if there ever were a day for a donut, this is it.

I place each donut on its own dessert plate, pour two cups of coffee and bring everything to the table where Dustin is holding out a chair for me.

No one’s watching—unless Syd is still spying from the other side of the kitchen door.

But Dustin doesn’t have to fake for her.

She’s well aware of what we’re doing. He has no reason to act boyfriend-y.

Still, he’s standing by my chair as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to pull it out for me and get me settled before he takes a seat across from me. Maybe I should stop him. But I don’t.

I take my seat and then I make the mistake of looking up into Dustin’s eyes. He stares down at me and doesn’t move away.

I hold one of the plates up toward him, he glances at it, and takes it from me.

“Maybe I should shake things up every so often,” he says, taking his place across from me.

“Like what?” I ask, sinking my teeth into the soft cake of my own donut.

“Maple bacon, chocolate cream, brown butter sugar … something other than blueberry-lemon.”

“Are you sick of it?”

“Not even close.”

“Then why mess with perfection?”

I don’t mean to sound arrogant.

Dustin chuckles. “You’re right. Why mess with perfection?”

He takes a big bite, chews it, even closes his eyes for a moment to savor the taste. I watch him, unable to tear my eyes away. There’s something about watching someone enjoy a treat you baked. It’s the best thank you in the world.

“So, what tanked your morning?” he asks casually.

I almost forgot how difficult the past six and a half hours had been.

“First, one of our ovens has been on the fritz. It decided not to work at all this morning. Then we had a massive order—one we normally would have fit in with ease, but with a school tour and a bulk order and only two ovens, we were slammed. And, to put the cherry on that epic sundae, Vanessa showed up making waves.”

“Wow.” Dustin’s eyes are soft, his brows knit with genuine concern.

“It’s fine. We’ll get through it all. Well, all of it except Vanessa. She’s just who she is.”

“What’s wrong with your oven?” Dustin asks.

“It won’t hold a constant temp. Sometimes it does. Other times it doesn’t get hot enough to bake. Sometimes it drops heat in the middle of a baking session.”

“That can’t be good.”

“No. It’s not. Consistent heat is one of the keys to good baking.”

“Want me to take a look at it?”

“Do you know anything about ovens?”

“Not a thing. I just thought it sounded good to offer. You know, I’d be the type of guy who can fix all things, the one who shows up with dinner when you haven’t eaten, and I even play guitar.”

He wags his eyebrows playfully.

“Such a triple threat,” I tease. “Well, two out of three isn’t shabby.”

“I don’t know how to fix an oven. But I do know a guy,” Dustin says.

“Do you, now?”

“I do.”

Dustin pulls his cell out of his pocket, selects a contact and brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Liam?”

Liam. Of course. I should have thought of Liam.

I don’t know what Liam says, but over the course of the phone call, Dustin asks me if I’ll be around this afternoon.

I tell him I will. By the time he hangs up, Liam is planning to stop by to fix my oven this afternoon.

How I’ll pay Liam is another question. I’ll figure that out later.

We really can’t function with only two reliable ovens.

“Thank you,” I say as soon as Dustin clicks end.

“You’re welcome. Liam’s our captain’s brother.”

“I know.”

“Right. Yeah. You would. Of course. Anyway, I’m glad I could help.”

I look across the table at Dustin. He’s smiling, as usual. The way he’s slightly leaned back in his chair with his arms casually folded across his chest, it feels like he belongs here.

“I’d better get going,” he says, standing and extending his hand for my plate.

“I’ve got these. I’ll just wash them after you leave.”

“I’ll get them!” Syd shouts from inside the kitchen.

Dustin and I both crack up.

“Syd!” I shout.

“Coming!” she pops through from the back.

“If you’re going to spy, you should be more covert,” Dustin suggests.

“Yeah. Good point. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

She takes our plates, leaving me and Dustin alone.

“Well, thanks for the donut,” he says, stepping to make his way around me.

But I’m too close to the glass case. There’s barely enough room for his large frame to pass between me and the display of baked goods.

He brushes against it and me. I step back, hitting one of the bistro chairs.

It goes toppling and I wobble. Dustin catches my elbow.

His grip is gentle, steady. His fingers on my skin feel simultaneously warm and unfamiliar.

For a second, I forget what made him touch me.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “I’m … yeah. I’m good. Thanks. Just … lost my balance.” I brush a strand of hair behind my ear.

His eyes linger on mine. “Yeah. Me too.”

I step back and bend down to pick up the chair and Dustin bends at the same time. We nearly knock heads.

He picks the chair up as if it weighs nothing and sets it in place at the table.

“I’d better go before I accidentally give you a black eye—or worse,” he teases.

He makes a show of tiptoeing past me until he’s at least five feet away. “Let me know how it goes with Liam. Okay?”

“I will. Thanks again.”

“My pleasure. I’ll see you tomorrow when I come in for the donut order.”

“See you tomorrow,” I say.

“See you tomorrow!” Syd yells from the kitchen.

“Syd!” I shout.

Dustin walks out the door with an amused grin on his face.

“Tomorrow … ” I say quietly to myself.

I’ll see him tomorrow.

And I might even be looking forward to it.

Which is a problem.