“Isn’t it interesting how opposites attract?” Jessica chimes in. “Like how some people follow rules and some people...bend them?”
Dean shifts beside me. Our knees brush. The contact sends electricity racing up my thigh, and based on the way his breath hitches, he felt it too.
“Fire chiefs are known for being passionate, right Dean?” Michelle appears again with the coffee pot. “More coffee?”
“We both still have full cups,” Dean points out.
“Better keep drinking then!” She fills them higher. “Can’t leave until they’re empty.”
“That’s not actually a rule,” I say.
“It is in my coffee shop.” Michelle winks and disappears.
I should be angry. Should tell my friends to back off, to stop this coordinated campaign to force Dean and me together. Should maintain some dignity.
But then Amber “accidentally” knocks over the sugar dispenser, and both Dean and I reach to catch it at the same time, and our hands collide in a shower of white crystals.
His hand is warm. Strong. His fingers curl around mine for just a second—barely a heartbeat—before we both jerk back like we’ve been burned.
The book club erupts in theatrical gasps.
“Oh my!” someone actually says.
Jessica pulls out a romance novel from seemingly nowhere. “Speaking of passionate fire chiefs,” she says, opening to a marked page. “Listen to this love scene. For book club discussion purposes only, of course.”
“Jessica—” I start.
“And then the fire chief pulled her close, his strong arms like steel bands around her waist, his voice rough with barely restrained desire?—”
“Jessica!” I bury my face in my hands.
Dean makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be a choke. Possibly both.
The coffee shop music changes. Something slow and romantic that I recognize as Michelle’s doing. The lights dim slightly. “For ambiance,” Michelle calls out helpfully.
Amber lights a candle and sets it on our table like we’re on a date in an Italian restaurant instead of being held hostage in a coffee shop by well-meaning friends.
“This is a nightmare,” I mutter.
“This is definitely something,” Dean agrees. But he’s smiling now, a real smile that transforms his entire face and makes my heart stutter.
Every time he tries to leave, someone asks a question about fire safety.
“Dean, is it true that body heat is the best way to prevent hypothermia?” Hazel asks, looking pointedly between us. “Asking for a friend.”
His ears go redder. “That’s...not actually my department.”
“What about testing smoke alarms?” Amber asks. “Should we test them together? For safety?”
“Smoke alarms should be tested monthly,” Dean says, and I can hear the laughter he’s suppressing. “But you don’t need a partner for that.”
“Don’t you though?” Jessica exchanges looks with the others.
Finally, mercifully, the interrogation slows. The book club ladies back off slightly, pretending to have their own conversation while obviously still listening to every word.
Dean turns to me. Really looks at me, and the playfulness in his expression fades into something more serious. More real.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “About yesterday. The way I handled things.”
