Page 5
Chapter 3
Being Reeled In
“Large black coffee, no sugar, no cream. They were out of blueberry muffins, but I got you one of the peanut bars with dark chocolate and salted caramel.”
Wayne froze halfway through the door of the Caffeine Drip, his hand still on the handle. The woman from his porch this morning stood directly in his path, holding two cups and wearing a smile that was aggressively cheerful.
She was prettier than he remembered. Or maybe he'd been too tired to notice that morning after the fire. Dark brown hair that caught the afternoon light, brown eyes that sparkled with determination, and an energy that reminded him of a puppy who'd just spotted a tennis ball.
“How do you—” He caught himself, shook his head. “Look, I already told you—”
“I know, you needed sleep.” She pressed the coffee into his hand before he could refuse. “Robin mentioned you stop by most afternoons. I figured the least I could do after waking you up yesterday was buy you a coffee. No strings attached.”
Right. No strings. Wayne wrapped his fingers around the cup and tried to figure out his escape route.
“Thanks for the coffee.” He took a deliberate step to the side.
She matched his movement like they were dancing. “The peanut bars are really good. Robin said—”
“Wayne! Finally!” Chief Murphy's voice boomed across the coffee shop. “Get over here. We need your brain.”
Wayne looked toward the corner where half the volunteer fire department had gathered for Murphy's debrief. The Caffeine Drip provided a casual setting for official business. The fact that Robin's pastries were incredible was purely coincidental.
He brushed past Jess, feeling a small surge of satisfaction as he finally broke free of her orbit. That's that, then.
He dropped into an empty chair beside Brandon and Jake. “What's up?”
“Trying to figure out our demonstration for the fundraiser,” Brandon said. “I'm thinking grease fire—show what happens when you pour water on burning oil.”
“Classic.” Ángel nodded. “Everyone thinks water puts out all fires.”
“We've all seen that in grade school already.”
Wayne flinched. The glassblower had materialized directly beside him. How did she move so quietly?
Brandon blinked at her. “Well, yeah, but it's still impressive to see in person.”
“It's participant impressive,” Jess said, pulling out the chair next to Wayne like she belonged there. “Not winner impressive. I’m Jess Hartley, by the way. I’m a glassblower and could 'accidentally' cause all kinds of fires during a demonstration. Controlled fires with different colored flames even—copper for green, strontium for red. Then let audience members help put them out with proper equipment. Make it interactive instead of just show-and-tell.”
Wayne stared at her. She'd been eavesdropping. She'd followed him over here, and now she was inserting herself into their planning session like she had any right to—
“That's ingenious,” Ángel said, his eyes lighting up.
“Way more engaging than just watching us spray an extinguisher,” Brandon agreed. “Kids actually doing it themselves—that's memorable.”
“Plus, glassblowing is visual,” Jess continued. “Fire, molten glass, the whole shaping process. When things 'go wrong' and flames appear—”
“We're the heroes who teach proper safety.” Murphy was grinning now. “Jessica, that's brilliant. If we win this, that thermal imaging camera is ours. When can you start practicing?”
Wayne felt the trap closing. He knew what was coming.
“Well, that's the thing.” Jess turned to look at him, and the innocent expression on her face didn't fool him for a second. “I need the right setup. Fireproof space, proper ventilation for working with heat and fumes, enough room for my glassblowing station and kiln.”
She's not going to trap me twice. Wayne set his coffee down with more force than necessary. “Let me guess. You need my barn.”
The sarcasm was thick, but Murphy didn't seem to notice.
“Wayne, that's perfect!” Murphy clapped him on the shoulder. “Your setup is exactly what we need. Plus, you'll be right there to supervise.”
