Page 37 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

Dustin

Love is friendship that has caught fire.

~ Ann Landers

Emberleigh stares up at me, wide-eyed, but relaxed.

I never imagined we’d be here, in her gran’s kitchen in the middle of the night, her having just knocked on the basement door because she couldn’t wait to tell me she wanted to pursue something between us.

And that kiss? She surrendered. I felt the moment she released her hesitation and gave in.

It feels like the sweetest victory—a gift, one I’ll treasure forever.

“I’d take you out this weekend, but I have a thing,” I tell her in a soft voice.

Emberleigh’s relaxed, but knowing how quickly her brain can kick in, she might turn and run upstairs any minute if she feels rushed or pressured.

“Oh. No. That’s no problem. You don’t have to take me out.” She stiffens a little.

I run my fingers through her hair, keeping my other arm looped behind her back. Her eyes flutter shut, so I caress her hair again. She hums lightly.

“That feels nice.”

Her eyes open and she gazes up at me.

“I want to take you out,” I say. “But I also want you to come to this gig. I already planned to play this weekend. After the festival, a man approached me. Miles? Do you know him?”

“I do. He owns the Fork & Fiddle.”

“Yeah. Well, he wants me to play a set for him Saturday night. And I’d love it if you would come. I apologize in advance that I’ll be singing country music. I imagine I could throw in one Motown classic without causing too much of a fuss.”

“I’d love that.” She smiles up at me. I press into her back with the palm of my hand.

“That’s not the date, Firecracker. A date, by definition, is you and me without a crowd of people between us.”

The smile she gives me is one I want to frame.

I wish I had my phone and a way to use the camera on it without interrupting this moment, just so I could have this smile in my possession to take out on hard days, or when we’re on break at the station, or just because I want to look at her face and remember how it feels to hold her in my arms and have her stare up at me like I’m the only thing that matters in her world.

“This gig’s just a thing I’ve got going on Saturday night,” I say, brushing her hair back with my hand. “I still want to take you out. After the gig. On a different night.”

“Okay. You can.”

“Are you just going to make everything easy on me now?”

“Hardly,” she smiles a flirtatious smile at me. I bet she’d cross her arms over her chest if I weren’t holding her so close.

“Good.”

“I don’t want to fight this anymore,” she says softly.

“Fight this … us?”

“Yeah. Us.”

“We get to have an us?” I smile so big it makes my cheeks pull tight.

“That’s what I came down here to tell you.”

“So you’re like, my girlfriend?”

“Do you need a label?”

“I actually do. I need to be your boyfriend.”

She shakes her head lightly. But then she says, “Fine. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Why do you make me feel like I’m in high school, all nervous and tied in knots?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’m just me.”

“That’s an understatement. I told my brother the other night, you’re like no one I’ve ever met.”

She blushes. “You are too—like no one I’ve ever met, Dustin.”

The way she says my name says everything.

She’s out here, taking this risk. And I feel it—how much this is costing her.

Whoever hurt her did it big and deep. And she had to jump over the chasm they left to make her way to me.

Cody and Stevens were right. She’s worth the wait. She’ll always be worth it.

We spend the next hour in the kitchen, talking and laughing. We’re about to say goodnight, so I lean in and kiss Emberleigh and she stands on her tiptoes to meet me halfway.

“I’m going to have to get used to this,” I tell her. “Right now I’m still in disbelief.”

“Me too,” she says. “I don’t know why I kept you at arms’ length.”

“Well, you did kiss me twice before tonight, to be fair.”

“I think you kissed me,” she says, playfully.

“Oh, I definitely did.” I wink.

I lean in and kiss her forehead. It’s a gesture of affection, nothing based on this raging attraction I have for her.

She brings out layers in me. I feel like her best friend, her boyfriend, and something else I can’t even put my finger on.

A part of me would take a bullet for her.

It’s not about how adorable she is or how I can’t stop thinking about her.

I’m overcome with this urge to make her life better than it’s ever been—to show her how good it can be to depend on another person and to let them love you well. I want to be a better man for her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks softly.

“I’m planning what to name our babies,” I tease.

“Oh. Okay then,” she laughs. “Nothing big.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if I warned you, but I like to move really slowly. I’m not very affectionate. You’ll barely know where I stand on anything. I’m super low-key. Sort of a blend-into-the-background type.”

“Right. I got all that from how you’ve been around me so far.”

“Good thing aloof guys are your type then,” I joke.

“Yeah. No.” She reaches out and this time she tugs me close.

“I like you being who you are. You’re so full of life and joy.

And you’re a risk taker. I admire that more than you’ll ever probably know.

And you’re a surprisingly good listener.

And you don’t judge people. You just take everyone as they are.

I love watching how you are with people. And you make me laugh.”

We stare into one another’s eyes, and then she adds, “I like you a lot.”

“Wow.” I’m stunned. Outside of my own mother, I don’t think anyone has ever laid such an overwhelming string of compliments on me.

“I like you a lot too,” I say. I’d go into all the reasons, but it’s getting late and I don’t want it to feel like I’m complimenting her just because she said all those amazing things about me, so I lean in and kiss her instead.

When we separate, I say, “Since I seem to be the only one with a clock around here, I’m going to draw the line and suggest we get some sleep.”

Emberleigh glances at the clock over the stove. “Oh. Wow. Yeah. I need to get to sleep.”

We hug goodnight and I watch her as she walks through the kitchen, into the pass-through hallway, toward the front of the house. When I can’t see her anymore, I turn and head down the basement stairs to bed.

Saturday night rolls around and I’m nervous—like sweaty palms, can’t quite catch a breath, rambling thoughts, nervous.

Usually I’m not nervous to get on stage and sing.

I love it so much and get to do it so little.

But tonight, Emberleigh is coming to the Fork & Fiddle to watch me, and she’s bringing friends.

As far as everyone in town’s concerned, we’ve been dating since before the contest. She and I know it’s only been a week.

Everything’s changed.

I wake extra early to make sure I’m in the kitchen when she gets up for work.

She usually grabs a coffee at the shop, but I’ve been making a pot to share with her at three-thirty every day.

Then, after I walk her out to her car, I go back to bed until I have to wake up a few hours later.

On my days at the station, I still pick up donuts.

But on my day off, I stopped by the bakery and brought her lunch.

And that night, I was home, waiting for her when she got off work.

We ate dinner with her gran, who is beside herself.

It’s so obvious she knows something has shifted between me and Emberleigh.

I put my water bottle next to the stool they put out for me on the stage. Just me and my guitar and the mic they amped for me.

The owner, Miles, greeted me when I arrived, but then he got busy. One of the employees is helping me test the sound system.

People come into the restaurant to get dinner.

Some of them know I’m playing. A few probably just came out for a night of good food and time with friends.

The room is one open space with a concrete floor, a free-standing hostess stand near the door, a bar that runs along the back of the room, a low stage up front, and picnic tables and smaller two-tops around the room.

It’s cozy, something I’d picture in a small town—a place to gather and eat where the food’s good, but the company’s even better.

Miles comes over and asks me if I want something to eat before I go on and I turn him down. That’s when I know this is serious. I never turn down food.

“I’ll take you up on that after my set, though.”

“Sure thing, Dustin. Just let the cook know and she’ll whip you up whatever you like.”

There’s a ruckus at the hostess stand. Two loud male voices. I turn to see the three men in my crew standing in a semi-circle facing the hostess. Greyson’s like a wall, still and ominous. The other two are bantering with the restaurant employee.

“We have to sit in the front row,” Cody says.

“Come on, Ginny. Pull another table up there for us. We won’t be in the way,” Patrick begs the hostess.

“I can’t just go rearranging the room for y’all,” Ginny explains, hand on her hip.

“We’ll rearrange it, Ginny. You don’t have to do a thing,” Cody says.

Miles excuses himself and says, “Guys, what seems to be the matter?”

“Dustin’s our rookie. We can’t sit at a back table,” Patrick explains to Miles.

“We can sit wherever you want us,” Greyson says.

Patrick and Cody start to turn on Greyson. Miles says, “I’m sure we can get a table near the stage for you.”

“Just seat us at the picnic table that’s already there,” Cody suggests. “The one that says, Reserved .”

“That’s actually for Dustin’s guests.”

Cody points to himself and then Patrick and Greyson.

“His other guests,” Miles clarifies.

“Ahhh. Oh. Okay,” Patrick says.

Cody shouts over to me, “I see how it is, Rookie. Saving seats for your girl and not the guys who have your back in every fire?”

“Misters over sisters …” Patrick shouts.

“She’s not his sister,” Greyson says.

“I know that,” Patrick says.