Page 54 of Dandelions and Smoke

“So…” She tilts a brow up at me over her shoulder as she finishes putting on her shoes. “I need to make sure I don’t have any missed calls.”

“From?”

“My brother.” Her heel slides into her shoe with such force that it knocks her foot to the floor, as if to accentuate the word brother.

I hadn’t considered that, last night or this morning, Blake might be worried or worse, pissed off. Well, that ship has definitely sailed.

“I think what I have in mind sounds way more fun,” I point out, my voice dropping slightly as I lean back on my pillow and tuck my arm behind my head, leaving my bare torso and abs on full display.

The air between us stretches taut with playful possibility as her gaze lingers. My stare settles on her with enough intensity to make her forget her next thought. Her mouth opens and closes like the words she’s looking for are out of reach. It isn’t until my lips pinch together to stop myself from laughing at the obvious perusal that she snaps out of it. Her cheeks fill with a light shade of pink, and I tilt my head in an attempt to appear innocent, eyes wide.

“Put those baby blues away and get dressed,” she quips, calling me out for my attempt to get her to stay.

“Fine,” I drag the word out slowly, rolling out of bed.

I get dressed, and we make our way to my truck. Luckily, everyone is too busy with drills to notice us as we walk out the door. She hurries to the passenger side and, once it’s unlocked, pulls her phone from her bag. Her eyes grow wide, and her face pales, stopping me in my tracks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she grates out, her finger swiping at her screen as she looks it over.

“What am I missing?” I ask, brows coming together until she shows me the screen. “Does that say one hundred and four?”

As she holds it in front of me, the phone vibrates again with another text. This time it’s from “Playboy” and reads, “You can thank me later.”

“Oh, great,” I mumble.

“Seriously.” Rory shoves her phone into her pocket and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Blake called thirty-seven times. Lucas called thirty-nine. Between the two of them, there are twenty-eight text messages.” She looks up at the sky as if she’s searching for something. “Have they lost their minds?”

It’s excessive, but I think about what I’d do if the roles were reversed and if I were looking for her.

“They care about you and want to make sure you’re safe. Can you blame them?” I ask, walking over and placing my arm around her.

She deflates beneath me and fidgets with her hair ties. “I don’t want them to worry.”

“I don’t think you can stop them.”

She laughs, then quiets too quickly. “I guess that’s not something I’m used to.”

I don’t rush the moment. Instead, I let her sit with the realization that she has people in her life now who care enough about her to blow up her phone until they’re sure she’s okay. She goes still for half a second, like a glitch, then reboots, tossing a smile on like she’s turning a page from her past.

“Anyhoo, I’ll deal with them later. At this moment, I have something else to attend to,” she says with a lilt at the end.

Getting a mischievous look in her eyes and wearing a scary smirk, she reaches her hand into her backpack and pulls out a pink tube of some kind.

“Question,” she says, eyeing the tube like she’s been struck with genius. “Does every firefighter have their own shampoo bottles?”

“Uhh, yeah, they’re usually labeled or kept in their room—why?” I ask before I’ve hardly finished answering her, as she walks back toward the station.

“No reason,” she sing-songs. “I’ll be right back, and then you can drive me home.”

She disappears into the station with the pink bottle.

I have a sinking suspicion that someone is going to learn the hard way to knock first.

“Is she okay?” I ask Ainsley as I watch Rory ping-pong around the cafe.

She drops off a coffee at a table while holding a plate of croissants, makes it back to the counter before realizing she’s still holding the plate, and then turns around to deliver it to a different table. The whole time this is happening, she hasn’t noticed I’m here.

“Yeah, she’s dandy. She just gets into a tizzy when plans change,” Ainsley murmurs while she counts the register after the afternoon rush.