I toss my keys down, lean back against the counter.
Firecracker: Cruel isn’t the word I was thinking. Try memorable.
Me: Dangerous thing to promise. Where were you thinking of putting it?
There’s a pause long enough to feel deliberate.
Firecracker: Oh you don’t get details yet. You’ll have to earn those.
I laugh quietly, shaking my head.
Me: Encouragement like that makes me competitive. You already know how that ends.
Her reply comes fast.
Firecracker: Confident too. Shocking. Are you always like this?
I glance down at my phone, thumb hovering.
Me: Only with women who can keep up.
Firecracker: Good. I’d hate to be bored.
I exhale slowly, a smile settling in.
Firecracker: Wait for what?
I smile to myself, leaning back against the counter, already picturing her face when she reads this.
Me: To see you again.
Firecracker: That sounds like a you problem… but I’m open to a solution.
Me: Black Iron Tattoo. 10 a.m. I’ll be there with coffee.
Firecracker: I like mine iced, creamy, and sweet.
God this woman is doing something dangerous to me.
Me: Okay Firecracker, tell me something real. What do you do when you’re not at Trivia?
Firecracker: I run the office for my dad’s construction company. Schedules, contracts, damage control. I keep grown men from setting the world on fire.
I smile to myself.
Me: Explains why you don’t scare easily.
Firecracker: Chaos is basically my job description. What about you?
I sit on the edge of the couch, elbows on my knees, phone warm in my hand.
Me: Security with the Iron Reapers. Mostly protection work. Crowd control, threat assessment, making sure people walk out the same way they walked in.
There’s a few long seconds before she replies, like she was thinking
Firecracker: Sounds intense.
Me: It can be. Piston runs a tight ship. I work under him. Long nights, a lot of watching, stepping in before things go sideways.
