Russ: That man could scold me any day of the week.
Arlene: So, what happened?
I embarrassed myself. Again. End of story.
Hellzz: Come on, it can’t be that bad.
He called me a kid and told me to go home.
Tammany: Ouch. That’s a mood killer.
Yep. I’m officially retiring from men.
JoeyJo: Again?
For real this time. I’m converting to cats.
Russ: Maybe just try a different family.
Tammany: Heard he threw you over his shoulder and stormed out.
JoeyJo: Half the bar thought it was a kidnapping. I nearly called 911.
You should’ve. Maybe they’d arrest me for public stupidity.
Russ: Girl, that man looked ready to commit arson if anyone else touched you.
Can we not? I already died of humiliation once.
JoeyJo: I’m on my way to pick you up for your shift.
Shit. I hadn’t realised the time.
JoeyJo: Resurrection by coffee, coming right up.
I dropinto Jo’s car with a sigh. Not even the smell of cinnamon latte can save me from the shame spiral I’ve been trapped in since last night.
Jo hands me the paper cup, one eyebrow arched. “Spill. I want all the juicy details.”
“There are no juicy details.” I blow on the foam and take a sip. The cinnamon hits my tongue, and for one blissful second, I forget I want to crawl into a hole and never return. The scent of whipped cream and cinnamon sugar fills the air, reminding me of all things Christmas, despite wanting to hibernate through this one.
“Uh-huh.” She flicks her blinker on, pulling out of my driveway. “So the fire chiefdidn’tswoop in like some kind of grumpy, broad-shouldered knight and carry you out of the bar?”
I groan, shuffling in the seat. “You saw that?”
“Babe, the entire bar saw that. Half the town’s talking about it. Someone’s already posted a meme on the local Facebook page.”
“Oh, shit.” I clutch my coffee tighter. “Tell me you’re joking.”
She grins, unbothered. “It’s captioned ‘When the fireman says stop, drop, and roll—but you just want to roll into his bed.’”
I nearly choke on cinnamon foam. “I hate this town.”
Jo laughs. “You love this town. And honestly? You made his night. You should’ve seen his face when that creepy fisherman put his hand on your thigh. Chiefy looked ready to set the bar on fire.”
My stomach flips, and I focus on the swirl of cream melting into the coffee. “He didn’t set the bar on fire. He just carried me out like a misbehaving toddler and told me I was a mistake.”
“Ugh.” Jo drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “Men and their noble nonsense.”
