Page 8 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

“As a matter of fact …” Her voice raises and she glances at Sydney and me. “I just landed the city council meeting contract. I’ll be providing their baked goods every other week. Our city council loves their pastries and coffee cakes.”

“Congratulations,” Dustin says.

Sydney shoots me a glance. I’d been gunning for that contract for months. We’d dropped off samples at the last meeting and heard nothing but rave reviews and a promise of more opportunities to be the supplier for their meetings.

"Over my dead rolling pin," I mutter to Syd under my breath.

Syd shakes her head and makes a motion with her hands as if she’s repeatedly pressing something down.

“I’m calm. Don’t worry,” I assure her.

“Whatcha got in the box, Dustin?” Vanessa asks.

“Donuts. I’m bringing them back to the station.”

“Oh. That’s so sweet. You know, I bake donuts too. I use a family recipe. They’re fluffy and sweet as a kiss on a front porch swing.”

I can’t quite see from my angle, but it looks like Vanessa winks at Dustin.

“Well, there’s only five of us on duty per shift. I’ve got what I need here,” Dustin says, glancing over at me for some unknown reason.

“You’ll have to try mine sometime,” Vanessa says, running her hand on Dustin’s shoulder down his bicep and giving it a not-so-subtle squeeze.

“I’d better get back to the station,” Dustin says.

“Of course,” Vanessa answers, shamelessly following him out the door.

The two of them stand just to the right of the doorway, framed in the plate glass window.

Vanessa has her manicured hand clenched onto Dustin’s shoulder again like she’s the claw in that win-a-stuffed-animal game at The Pizza Den.

And, yes. Dustin is smiling. His teeth are extraordinarily white.

California white, you might even say. People in Tennessee don’t need teeth that white.

It’s not natural. We’d scare off the wildlife on our hikes.

Dustin’s teeth are like halogen headlights, but a row of them, perfectly aligned in his mouth.

Syd steps up next to me. “Flirting with firemen. It’s all in a day’s work for her. Do you care?”

“Of course not. It’s just the principle of the thing.”

“The principle?” Sydney smirks. “Or the fireman?”

“He’s … You weren’t there. Seeing my kitchen on fire was overwhelming.”

Syd softens. “Of course it was. But that tragedy aside … Hold on! I get it. You know how people have transference? That phenomenon where they fall for the hero—or whoever saved them? You’re experiencing the opposite.

Un-transference. No. Transferlessness. Ummmm.

Detransfer? Whatever. You have an aversion to him because you associate him with a traumatic experience. ”

“I have an aversion to him because he took me off my own capable feet without warning and hauled me out of my house.”

Sydney turns her attention from me to the scene outside our bakery window. Vanessa has stepped closer to Dustin, her hand still firmly attached to his shoulder. He’s gripping the box of donuts with both hands, but he doesn’t appear to be making any effort to extricate himself from her grasp.

“I think my cat is up a tree,” Syd says, fanning herself and completely missing my logical defense of my beef with the beefy fireman.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“My cat. It’s up a tree. I’m quite sure of it. I’m in need of a fireman, stat.”

She’s smiling playfully, but I think she’s half-serious.

“You’re in need of a brain transplant.” I grin over at her.

“And you’re in need of a pair of glasses and a sense of humor. Girl. That man is basically what every woman hopes a fireman looks like. And that smile?” She sighs. “And he complimented the blueberry-lemon donut. That’s your recipe. He loves your donuts.”

“Everyone loves my donuts.”

“That’s true. As they should.” She reaches for a rag and turns to start wiping the counters around the coffee station. “He said he was sorry.”

“And I forgave him.”

Syd rejoins me, staring at Dustin and Vanessa. I can’t help myself—I’m watching them too. Dustin steps back, says something to Vanessa, and walks to his truck. She waves, then turns and struts the other direction.

Mission accomplished.

“She just came here to announce that she got the contract,” I mutter.

“I’d love to say you’re wrong.”

I exhale, arms crossing. “If she keeps snatching up these events and contracts …”

“She won’t,” Sydney says firmly. “I don’t know how she finagled that one, but I’m sure it wasn’t by playing fair.”

I wish I had Sydney’s confidence. Because right now, all I see are opportunities drying up and my bank account gasping for air.

“Don’t worry about the city council. It’s not big enough to give it another thought.” Sydney nudges me. “You know what you should be thinking about?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“That baking contest.”

I shake my head. “I can’t enter. I already told you. They require a non-baking spouse, committed boyfriend or girlfriend or life partner to enter as your other half. They won’t budge on that requirement.”

Sydney waves a hand. “A minor technicality.”

I narrow my eyes at her. She just smiles back.

“You’re scaring me,” I say slowly. “You’ve got that look in your eyes.”

Sydney’s eyes widen in mock innocence. “What look?”

“The one you get when you’re cooking up a plan that’s going to make me question all my life choices.”