The Fireman I Loved to Hate by Jenna Gunn
Chapter 23
When I really get into writing, it’s a strange meditation, like I become one with my keyboard. My mind and my body work together on their own. Sounds and outside concerns fade into the background. I am no longer just me. I am every character in a scene. I am their every gesture, their every fear and desire. I become their world.
So I tend to miss phone calls.
My cell buzzes at full volume, and I jump so hard, I envision an earthquake that sends my characters tumbling. In the blink of an eye, I am back to reality. I’m staring at a screen, not twirling in a waltz. My foot is asleep. And I’m sort of hungry. I stretch my foot and look at my phone.
It’s Alex.
I’m grinning before I can think clearly. He texted me yesterday to let me know he’s being released today. I didn’t want to crowd him-his sister planned to pick him up, and I thought it best to let them have their time together. So, I had decided to use the morning to write, and to make sure I didn’t miss his call, I had turned the vibration up on my phone. I couldn’t deal with an actual ringtone, though. For me, writing requires the quiet.
I swipe my thumb over the green circle to answer the call, and my hand trembles as I bring the phone to my ear. I’m so excited that my voice is breathy, “Hello?”
“Hey, there,” Alex says. He sounds like he’s smiling.
“Hi!” I push back from my desk and start flexing my toes harder to work out the pins and needles. “How are you doing?”
“I’m great,” he says. His voice is close to normal. “How’s the writing going?”
“I’m on chapter three.”
“Wow.”
I bring my knees to my chest and admit, “Honestly, this is taking me much longer than usual. Normally, I’d be in six or seven by now.”
“Any idea why?”
I smirk and tell him, “I may be distracted by this week’s current events.”
“Oh! So, it’s my fault?” he laughs.
“If it’s anyone’s fault, yes.”
His laughter is fuel for my smile. He says, “Well, I’ll try to keep my hospitalizations to a minimum from now on. Wouldn’t want to cut into your writer mojo.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you. Thank you for the consideration,” I tease back.
“Well, do you think you’re anywhere near a stopping point?”
“I can be.”
His voice is tense, “I wanted to know if you’d like to go on a date.”
“Tonight?” I never would have thought he’d be up to it so soon.
“Yes, is that okay?”
“Hmm,” I pretend to debate my answer, “what kind of date?”
He says, “The kind of date where a guy picks up a pretty girl he likes and takes her somewhere fun. And the girl wears a jacket, because it might be cold tonight.”
“So, it’s an outside date?”
“Yes,” he covers the phone and coughs. They sound better than when I saw him in the hospital.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” he clears his throat. “So, would the girl like to go on an outside date with the guy?”
“Given the guy’s injuries, would it be wise for the guy to take the girl on an outside date?”
“Doctor Knudsen says fresh air would do the guy’s lungs some good.”
“Then the girl wants to go.”
He sounds relieved, “Well then, I think the guy will pick her up around six.”
“Then, it’s a date,” I tell him.
“I can’t wait, Raina.”
The way he says my name makes my stomach flip. I hope he knows what that’s like. “Same here, Alex.”
As soon as we hang up, I dial up Trisha. She answers with a groggy, “Hello?”
“Were you asleep?” I hurry from my office to the living room. Carmen and Monroe meow plaintively when they see me.
“I am a grown-ass woman, and I can nap when I want to.”
I giggle at her. “Yes, you can.”
“What’s going on, Girl?”
“I have a date.”
She’s awake now. She gasps, “With the fireman?”
“With the fireman.”
She shrieks so loudly that I have to pull my phone away from my ear, “IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME!” Then, she rambles on about my silliness and how she’s so happy I finally got out of my own way. She’s got such a head of steam going, I put her on speakerphone, so I can change the cat’s litter boxes.
Once I’m done, I’ve noticed her yelling has subsided. “Are you done yet?”
“For now. Have you done anything else stupid with him?”
“Oh, I thought you upgraded me to silly in your rant, Trisha,” I tease her.
She laughs. “I think they are two sides of the same coin, Raina.”
“Well, have you seen the news?”
She sounds perplexed, “The news is covering your date?”
I laugh, “In a manner of speaking. They covered him the other day.” I catch her up on all his heroics and she is either listening with rapt attention, or she’s doing something menial while I ramble. It would be a fair turnabout. “…so, seeing him on the news is what forced me to realize I had been a complete moron about the situation. Well, that and everyone else telling me how stupid I was being. So, thank you for that. I’m grateful, Trisha. If you hadn’t given me a hard bite on reality, I don’t know that I would be going on a date tonight with the man I…like.”
“I’m sorry it took me yelling at you and him almost dying, for you to realize what we could all see, but I’m glad it’s all working out.”
“So, I need to discuss outfits.”
She squeals and says, “Put me on FaceTime.”
-
Jeans, a nice blouse, and a dressy jacket. It’s almost what I wore to my first book signing. I stare at myself in the full-length mirror and wonder if it’s too formal for a date. But like he said, it’s probably going to be chilly and if we’re going to be outside, I need layers.
My phone battery is drained from FaceTiming with Trisha, so I plug it into the charger. Better have a good battery since I’m going on an outside date. And the outside part makes me spend way too much time on my hair. Copious amounts of mousse, combing, and bobby pins have helped me form it into a cute style, but I just know the wind is going to win this battle.
I bum around my living room while I wait for Alex. The sun is setting, and I wonder if it’s setting on my dating life, as well. I haven’t been on a date in at least a year, and even then, Spencer wasn’t much for real dates. What if I’ve forgotten how to be on a date? I check my teeth, my makeup, and my hair yet again. Even if I’ve forgotten how to act, I can still look the part.
Our first romantic interlude was sex, followed by unpleasantries. What will a real date be with him? I’m sure he’s not planning on sex outside, but…wait, is he?
There’s a knock on the door and I glance over my shoulder to check on the furry kids. Carmen and Monroe are undisturbed by the knock, sleeping in a curl together. I take a deep breath, relax my shoulders, and smile, before I open the door.
There’s a stranger before me. He’s in a top hat and tails. He chucks his hat ever so with white-gloved hands, and I begin to wonder if I’m hallucinating about my books. His English-accented voice asks, “Miss Raina Groves?”
“Yes?” I stammer.
He takes a wide step, then indicates my driveway with a sweeping gesture. “Your carriage awaits.”
My mouth drops as I take in the sight. Indeed, the carriage does await. Parked behind my car is a white carriage with deep red velvet bows and gold details. A smartly dressed man in top hat and tails is at the driver’s seat holding the reins. The leather leads jostle lightly because the horse tosses her head. The beautiful creature is snow-white, tall, and proud. Her free-flowing white mane brings to mind a wizard’s hair. She would be a perfect unicorn.
A hand waves from the back of the carriage and steals my attention from the perfect horse. It’s Alex.
I laugh. I have no words. I lock my front door behind me, then the first top hat guy leads me across my yard to the carriage. Alex grins from the seat as the man takes my hand and helps me step up and settle into the seat.
Alex gives me a cheeky, “Good evening, Miss Groves.”
Smiling I say, “What is all this about?”
The two top hatted men pair up on the driving bench, and we begin to trot down the road. “It’s a horse-drawn carriage. I would have thought you’d be familiar with them, given your genre.”
I smack his arm gently. “I know that.”
He laughs and says, “Hey, I recently had a warehouse fall on me. Maybe don’t damage the goods.”
“Oh my gosh, Alex, just tell me what’s going on?”
He gingerly puts his arm around my shoulders, and I nuzzle against him. “There’s a historical festival in town, and I thought we could take the scenic route to get there.”
“This is Fancy.”
Alex and the top-hat men laugh.
“What?”
Alex explains, “That’s the horse’s name.”
One of the top-hat men says, “Almost everyone says the same thing when they get in.” He turns around. “So, that’s what we named her—Fancy.”
I am still in awe of the moment. I’m in a horse-drawn carriage on a date. It’s a gorgeous evening, and the sun has dropped below the horizon, but the chill of night hasn’t crept in. I take off my jacket and set it next to me. Alex places his arm around my shoulders and his fingertips brush gently against my upper arm. The street is deserted, aside from our carriage.
Down the road, I catch a glimpse of the festival set up in a barren field. It’s a grouping of stalls, lit by fairy lights and candles flickering from people’s hands as they walk. Every bit is magical.
Alex leans into me and puts his lips against my ear. “So, does this count as sweeping you off your feet?”
“Absolutely,” I practically gasp.
Then he kisses my neck. My worries dissolve into the ether. We are a good match.
-
Fancy and the carriage take us in a loop around the field, and then our ride is over. Alex and I wander the stalls, looking at the different ye olde wares. Handcrafted candles and soaps, costume jewelry, and old paintings, in addition to some vintage foods. I would love a turkey leg, but that doesn’t seem like proper date nosh.
An old butter-churning stand takes his attention, and I imagine it’s actually the buxom woman in period garb that actually has him mesmerized. Her cleavage spills upward and almost out of her bodice. She looks up at him and smiles, but I watch Alex’s gaze. It’s fixed on the butter. “I had no idea that’s how butter is made.”
“I’d have to imagine it’s a little different at an industrial scale.”
There were small ceramic pots and brown bread for sampling, and Alex took a sample, glazed it with the fresh butter, and held it out in front of my lips. “Care for a taste?”
“Yes.” The bread and butter was a perfect pairing. “Oh, you must try it.” I dress a piece for him and offer it up. He takes the bread from my fingers, then slyly licks the tip. The sensation gives me shivers.
“Delicious.”
It doesn’t take long to see everything at the small festival. Alex buys me a lavender candle, and I buy him a bar of cedarwood soap. He leans closely and asks, “Is that for you or for me?”
“What do you mean?”
“So I smell good for you.”
I shake my head. “I believe the scent will suit you.”
He pulls me close and says, “Only buy it, if you will like it. I want you to crave me.” Then, he takes me in his arms and forcefully presses his lips to mine. My heart pounds in my ears and my body comes alive. It is all I can do not to drag him from the festival and have my beastly way with him. I am breathless when he asks, “So, will that soap work?”
“Mm, what?”
“For my purposes,” he stands up and smirks. “Is cedarwood the ticket?”
“I think it will work quite well.”
“Excellent. Want me to take you home?” he asks. “Or we could go to my place. I am well-stocked on frozen mozzarella sticks.”
I laugh. “That might be a tad anachronistic.”
“I suppose that would be tacky, hmm? Then perhaps I should take you out for a roast chicken and cholera?”
I snort-laugh and he laughs at me. I declare, “Actually, now I absolutely want mozzarella sticks.”
“My car is this way.”
-