"Blaze is a good guy. He's just a private person, and he's probably buried in paperwork right now. The man never stops working."
While Jaxon and Dane veered into a sidebar conversation, I wondered about the lieutenant. Though a man who never stopped working was concerning, something about the lieutenant intrigued me.
My burger's arrival rescued me from further conversation about the lieutenant. The burger was a work of art, with melted cheese and crispy bacon on a brioche bun. I said a quick prayer and immediately took a bite.
We fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes as we ate.
"How did you two end up as firefighters? Childhood dream or a happy accident?" I asked.
"I followed in my father's footsteps. I'm a third-generation firefighter. It's in my blood," Dane replied.
"Same. I come from a long line of firefighters. What about you? Have you always wanted to design buildings?" Jaxon asked.
I sipped my shake and nodded. "Since I was eight. My grandmother gave me some building blocks. I didn't maketowers. I would first draw the building, and then, according to my plans, I would build it. I would throw a fit if anyone messed with my blueprints." I laughed.
"Control freak, huh? You'd get along great with Blaze. The man has a label maker for his label maker." Dane laughed.
I stuffed a fry into my mouth to hide my cheeks warming again.
"I'm organized, but in my line of work, one miscalculation, and a building could collapse," I responded.
"Trust me, we get it. Our job doesn't leave much room for error either," Jaxon stated.
"I bet. Well, gentlemen, it's been real. However, I have a few errands to run before getting back to my plans for the Community Center. Have a good day," I said.
"You too," they both replied.
I pulled out my wallet, and Jaxon stopped me. "I got you."
"Aw, thank you," I replied, smiling.
Later that evening, I stared at the community center elevation for twenty minutes and only managed to smudge the corner. The suggested changes from the council weren't difficult to incorporate, just tedious and, honestly, unnecessary. Still, bills needed to be paid, and reputations needed to be built, so there I was, trying to care whether the sconces should be 'traditional' or 'heritage' style. What I couldn't figure out was why my mind kept conjuring up Lieutenant Crawford's face when he first spotted me in his fire station.
I tapped my pencil on the table. I knew my design was solid, Mayor Thompson knew it, and I was sure Whitaker's crusty assknew it too. These revisions were intended to stroke egos and make the council feel like they had input. It was a game I'd played so many times before, usually with much higher stakes and bigger attitudes.
So why couldn't I focus? Because I was too busy thinking about a man who couldn't even be bothered to have a real conversation with me. Yet, I knew my assessment wasn't fair. Lieutenant Crawford had been on duty. He was professional and focused on his job, rather than the random woman who'd shown up unannounced. There wasn't anything wrong with that. In fact, it was admirable.
Exactly like Shelton had been, always professional and focused on the job. So much so that he put everything else, including me, on the back burner.
"Nope. I'm not doing this." I pushed back from the table, needing to move and break this train of thought.
I paced the small living room before grabbing my leather journal off the bookshelf. I flopped onto the couch and flipped it open, intending to write my frustrations. As I opened to a blank page, a folded photo slipped out and fluttered to the floor.
"Shit," I whispered, knowing what it was before I picked it up.
It was Shelton with his arm around me, standing in front of a vacant lot in Columbus. We purchased the plot of land together. It was where our dream home was supposed to be built, where I was supposed to finally prove myself by designing not only a house, but our future.
The photo was taken three years ago, back when his arm around me felt like security instead of possession, when his ambition seemed passionate rather than consuming, before I realized our dream home was actually his dream, with me as the convenient architect who would make it a reality on his terms, with his vision. My expertise was merely a tool for his ego.
I stared at his face. He was handsome, confident, everything I thought I wanted. His similarities to Liam were superficial but unmistakable. The same solidity, intensity, and single-minded focus made them excellent at their jobs and potentially disastrous as partners.
"Girl, you've been in town for five minutes and already obsessed over another man who would absolutely put the job before you."
The thing about men like Shelton and Liam was that their dedication was admirable from a distance, attractive, even. Until I found myself waiting at home with canceled plans, needs un-prioritized, and my existence secondary to the all-consuming calling of their work.
I'd spent three years of my life designing and redesigning a home that was never built because Shelton kept changing his mind, kept finding reasons why"now isn't the right time, babe."After three years of waiting, my professional confidence eroded as he questioned my design choices, suggesting "improvements" going against everything I'd learned in architecture school, making me doubt the skills I had spent a lifetime developing.
Never again.
