“You can’t. You’ve been drinking. Might as well enjoy the evening with me.” I take her by the hand, pulling her away from the bar. I move closer to her until there is very little space between our two bodies. “You know you don’t want to leave anymore than I want you to.”
“How do you know what I want?”
“It’s in your eyes, butterfly. They always tell on you.” Wrapping my arm around her lower back, I escort her to an empty table, farther away from the bar, by the window. I pull out a chair, and she hesitates only for a moment before taking a seat.
Sitting across from her, I watch her intently as she sips at the mojito. “How was your first day of work?”
Her eyelids cover her pupils for a half a second and her lips form into a tight line. Her facial expression says more about her day than her any words she could speak.
“It sucked to be honest.”
“What was so bad about it?” I lean in, resting both elbows on the table.
“I just hate being the new person. You know what I mean? Everyone around you knows what’s going on except you. And there’s this guy who’s supposed to be training me or whatever …” She pushes out a frustrated breath.
“It’s only day one. Being the new kid on the block is supposed to be tough.”
Her eyes bulge. “That’s right. I’m complaining about my new job and you’ve just started a new job, too. How’s it going?”
I shrug. “I’m not new to the job.”
She swallows the sip of her drink she’s just pulled through her straw and nods. A few strands of her straightened hair fall from behind her ear to the side of her face. I get the strangest urge to push it back, wanting to see the entirety of her face. So I do.
At my gesture, her eyelids flutter and a small smile creases her lips.
“You’re not new to firefighting but it’s a new station, right? That means new coworkers, new boss, new location, all of that. How’s it going?”
Her genuine interest warms my chest. “It’s going.”
She shakes her head. “No, no. You made Angela call me to get me down here, so you’ve got to give me more information than that. It’s only fair.”
I chuckle. “It’s going well. Most of the guys I’ve known for a while from being called on the same scenes from time to time. There wasn’t much overlap between Station Two and Rescue Four, but it happens sometimes. And Carter and I go way back.”
“I remember you saying that. The Army, right?”
I nod.
Suddenly, I get the urge to be closer to her. To not have this wooden table, albeit small, separating our bodies. Being a man led by my instincts, I stand and move to her side of the table, holding out my hand.
“Dance with me.” Grasping her hand, I pull her to stand.
“We can’t dance here.”
“Why not?” I’ve already begun moving my hips in time to the Celia Cruz song that’s playing. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I bring our bodies together.
“Because there’s no dance floor,” she offers lamely.
I glance around. “That’s not stopping anyone else.” There’s a small crowd developing around the empty spots in the bar, dancing. Angela’s place, Charlie’s,is well known among firefighters, and often a place first responders and young professionals go to let off some steam at the end of the day.
“That’s it, butterfly. Just follow and let me lead,” I say in a low tone, next to her ear. That little vein begins pulsing rapidly at the side of her neck.
“I told you this couldn’t work between us.” Her tone is soft as she says the words but she doesn’t break away from my embrace.
“That’s your fear talking, butterfly. And you should know something about me.” I pull back to stare into her eyes.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t listen to fear. Especially when it’s contradicting what you really want.”
