Flirting With Fire (Hometown Heroes) (10 page)

“So did I.” She
laughed, then shifted her gaze to something across the room. “Funny, the things
you’ll do for the people you love.”

I waited for her
to expand on that but she didn’t, and I didn’t want to pry. Perhaps she’d tell
me more another time. We’d gotten along great at lunch, and exchanged phone
numbers before we parted.

“Call me,” she
said, “if you ever want to grab lunch again. I work from home most days, now
that I’m done at Maxwell.”

“Thanks, that
sounds great.”

And it truly
did. My first non-work friend in Fort Wayne! Though, now that I was back in Autumn Lake, a twinge of guilt ran through me. Reaching out to make new friends in the city
meant cutting into time spent with my old friends back here.

“But that’s what
I wanted, wasn’t it?” I whispered to my reflection. “To escape? To start
fresh?”

So why did it
feel like I was a total traitor right now?

A pounding
sounded at my front door. I hurried over to the peephole and gasped as the one person
who would think me the biggest traitor came into view: Sarah. Panic flowed like
ice through my veins. Should I pretend I wasn’t here? No, that wouldn’t work, my
car was out front. I didn’t want to leave her standing there in the rain,
either. But I couldn’t let her see me! I wasn’t ready!

As if on cue, Tony’s
morning lecture came to mind. I didn’t want to be a relational liar forever,
did I? And I sure as hell wasn’t spineless, right?

With all the
courage I could muster, I pulled the door open and tried my best to look
genuinely surprised—and happy— to see Sarah. “Hi! Boy, you timed that just
right—I just walked in.”

She stood there,
speechless, her gaze riveted to my hair. Yep, small town gossip had exceeded its
previous world-land record. Unbelievable.

“You…coming in?”

Her mouth began
to move, but no words came out. She blinked a few times, cleared her throat,
and tried again. “Uh, no. I. I just stopped by to, um, give you this,” she
managed, and shoved a flyer at me that had been wedged into the front
windowsill.

“Gee, thanks. But
I think I could have managed.”

“Right.” Her
eyes became glossy and her cheeks a deep scarlet. “You really don’t need me at
all anymore, do you?”

“Now you know
that’s not—”

She shook her
head and began walking away.

“Sarah, wait!”

It was no use.
She returned to her minivan and climbed inside, careful to avoid my gaze. I
felt like a total heel, knowing that I’d upset her like that. But what hurt the
most was that in her haste to judge me, she hadn’t taken the time to hear my
side of it. How happy one silly haircut had made me feel.

I couldn’t even
remember the last time I’d been as happy as when Tony had done the big reveal. Heck,
I’d floated on cloud nine all day. Not even Bunni, in her constant pursuit of
making me feel as worthless as possible, had been able to burst my bubble. But
one look from Sarah and that elation faded to black.

The more I
thought about her selfish reaction, while I sat all alone in my lonely
apartment, the angrier I became. Tony had spent all morning working to build my
confidence. Was I really going to let Sarah tear it right back down? For once,
the answer came back loud and clear:

Not this time.

CHAPTER
9

I thought a good
night’s sleep and a second great hair day in a row might improve my mood, but I
was wrong. By lunchtime Wednesday, I was a major grump. Whether from the
makeover or Tony’s lecture, something inside of me had come unhinged.

Little ol’ me,
it seemed, was tired of getting stepped on.

At first, I’d
dismissed Tony’s theory about me being a relational liar. His blunt honesty had
caught me off guard, and my defenses shot right up. But as much as I wanted to deny
his accusation, the more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right.
And since my morning had been filled with quiet clients, uninterested in having
any in-depth conversations, I’d had a lot of time to chew on my co-worker’s
words.

…relational
liars lie to keep those around them happy. You, darling, are a relational liar…

Damn him for
opening my eyes to such a calamity. How many times had I agreed to something,
just to keep Sarah happy? Or Mitch? Or my other friends in high school and
college?

Thankfully, I
hadn’t been guilty of that with my parents. Probably because my mom had always
been able to see through my attempts to do what I thought would please her as I
grew older.

“Do what makes
you happy, dear,” she’d say whenever I hemmed and hawed over a decision. And
once she’d said her piece, she would do what neither Sarah nor Mitch ever did: she’d
walk away. There was never any pressure with my mom. You made a decision, then
lived with the consequences—it was simple as that.

I sat at Wendy’s
later, wondering why I hadn’t turned out more like her. I admired my mother, her
ability to remain calm amid any of life’s storms, and unswerving in her
convictions. Never had I witnessed her back down from a problem or cave in to
high-pressure tactics.

Maybe that gene had
skipped me.

My father, on
the other hand, was quick to jump into a situation. But the difference between
him and me was that before his feet hit the ground, he’d already have a plan
formulated. The man could tackle anything, given enough space and resources.
The only things I ever tackled were my clients’ aches and pains, and my
furniture when I tripped over it at home.

I guess his genes
skipped me, too.

Genetics could
be such a bitch.

Just as I dug
into my small chocolate Frosty, a beep sounded from my purse. I stabbed my
spoon securely into the Frosty and reached for my phone. Finally. It had to be
a text from Sarah, admitting she’d overreacted last night. I sure as heck
hadn’t texted her, since I’d done nothing wrong. She was going to have to be
the one to step forward and apologize for once, damn it.

But the text
wasn’t from Sarah, it was from Brittany.

Torrunn’s
schedule changed again. He’s taking your open 1pm slot.

I sighed. Well,
maybe a sexy, nearly-naked hottie could wash away this bad mood of mine. And
after the way my week had gone, I wasn’t even going to feel guilty for thinking
that thought. I checked the time on my phone. 12:45—not much time to get back
and cleaned up. In a panic I grabbed my purse, snatched up my tray, and headed
for the trash receptacle. I dumped my garbage, but spared the Frosty. What kind
of woman would I be if I threw away uneaten
chocolate
?

Traffic was busy
as ever downtown, with everyone and their brother scurrying back to work just
like me. Thankfully, I only had a few blocks to go. Determined not to let my
dessert go to waste, I dug into the Frosty at every red light, and had it nearly
finished by the time I parked my car. After I inhaled the last few bites—and
the brain freeze had subsided—I hurried around the side of our building and tossed
the empty cup into the dumpster out back. Didn’t want to walk in looking like a
piglet or something.

“He’s already in
your room, waiting,” Brittany called as I made it upstairs and dashed by the
front desk.

“Thanks, you’re
a lifesaver!”

“Don’t I know
it,” she muttered half under her breath.

I made a mental
note to offer her a free chair massage after work as I hurried down the hall
and back to the break room.

Two minutes
later, I stood outside my massage room, trying to slow my breathing down.
Didn’t want Torrunn to think I was all worked up over seeing him. Because I
wasn’t. Really.

“All set in
there?”

“Yup,” came his
muffled reply.

I stepped into
the room and closed the door behind me. The clock on the wall read 1:05. “Sorry
for the delay. I hope you didn’t have to wait too long?”

“Nah, you’re
fine. Did I interrupt your lunch?”

“Oh, no. Not at
all.”

Crap. That’s
exactly the kind of lie Tony has been talking about
. I hit my massage oil
pump three times, each one a little harder than necessary.

“Good. I know
how crabby I get when my meals get interrupted.”

I savored the
view of his thinly-concealed backside for a moment, then reminded myself that I
was a professional. Something I never had to do with any of my other clients.
“So, uh, what are we working on today? Back and legs again?”

“That’d be
great. Especially my back. Tweaked it a little on a run we made last night.”

I took one more
pump of oil, then slid my hands over his right shoulder—I couldn’t help it,
that tattoo of his fascinated me. “Fire?”

“Yeah.
Single-story over in North Highlands. Elderly woman forgot to turn off a burner
on her stove.”

“Yikes. Is she
okay?”

“Thankfully,
yes. But if we’d gotten there much later, she might not have been.”

My hands roamed
southward and I bit back a growl. Tweaked it, nothing—his back felt like he’d
been auditioning for the Strongest Man competition. I definitely had my work
cut out for me with him.
Again
.

“So, does that
happen a lot? You know, you getting called out in the middle of dinner and
stuff?”

“Not a lot, but
it does happen. Fires don’t tell time or care if the meal in front of you is
leftover pizza or a Thanksgiving dinner. When that bell rings, we go.”

I walked my
hands up his spine and leaned in, inciting a soft moan from my client. The
sound was distracting, and I’m embarrassed to say I knew right then that my
pathetic, lonely brain would be replaying the sound numerous times over the
next few days.

I’d just made it
to his C5 when Torrunn’s entire body went rigid. I stopped.

“Did I hurt
you?”

“No. Do you
smell something?” He raised his head out of the cradle.

“Smell
something?” Out of his line of sight, I tucked my chin and did a quick check
for b.o. Phew! Nope, not me. “Uh, no. Like what?”

An ear-splitting
sound erupted overhead as the room’s smoke alarm pierced the room’s serene
atmosphere.

“Fire!”

Torrunn launched
himself up and off the table.

* * * *

Shocked by all
that was happening so fast, I froze. He didn’t seem to care that he’d jumped
off the opposite side of the table and dashed,
buck naked
, for his
clothes pile. He yanked on his boxer briefs—navy blue Jockeys, which hugged his
every, blessed curve—and his jeans before realizing I was still there, rooted
to the floor.

“Liz! What are
you waiting for?” He swiped his shirt, socks and shoes up, then shot across the
room and gave me a guided shove. “Go!”

His contact
snapped me out of my panicked stupor. I hurried out the door with Torrunn fast
on my heels. We caught up with the rest of our staff as we hit the lobby, worry
clear on everyone’s faces as they filed out into the main hallway.

“Tory, honey,
what’s happening?”

I glanced back
and saw him take Bunni by the arm and lead her in the direction we were all
headed: for the stairs.

“I don’t know.
Did anyone call 911?”

“I did,” cried Brittany,
who had just locked the spa and hurried to catch up with us. “They’d already
gotten an alert from our security system.”

“Good.” Torrunn
paused outside the stairwell and freed his hand from Bunni long enough to pull on
his shirt and shoes. Probably a good thing, because those amazing pecs of his
were causing women of all ages to stop and stare. “Let’s get everyone outside
and across the street to the parking lot.”

Peepshow over,
the swarm of bodies around us now crowded into the stairwell. I had no idea
where the fire was or how big it had gotten, but by now even my novice nose
detected the smoke. And as I hurried down the stairs and out the door, all I
could think of was how nothing anywhere near this scary ever happened when I
worked in Autumn Lake.

Soon everyone
from our building was huddled in the aisle ways of our parking lot, a growing
murmur of confusion among us. We watched as a fire truck roared up the street,
then turned onto Harrison just east of where we stood. It stopped beside our
building, and four firefighters jumped out.

“Where are they
going?” asked a woman somewhere to my right.

“Around back,” a
man replied. “Someone said the fire’s in the dumpster. They could see the
flames from their window on the third floor.”

The dumpster? My
gaze flickered to the back corner of the building. I’d just been there, no more
than fifteen minutes ago. Maybe Sarah was right—maybe it wasn’t as safe
downtown during the day as I thought. But why would anyone set a dumpster on
fire?

“Liz was there.”

A hush descended
upon the crowd. I turned in the direction of the accusatory, high-pitched voice,
wide-eyed. Bunni stood a short ways off, clinging to Torrunn as if her life
depended on it. And now, much to my dismay, she had an audience hanging on her
every word.

“I saw her when
I was out on the fire escape, having a cigarette,” Bunni cried, pointing in my
direction. Beside her, Torrunn’s eyes flashed to mine. “S-she ran up to the
dumpster, threw something inside, and then ran away. It was just a few minutes
ago!”

All whispering
stopped as fifty sets of eyes shifted to where I stood.

* * * *

“I had nothing
to do with this.”

Torrunn watched
me pace back and forth across the interrogation room, his look grim. “Nobody’s
saying you did.”

“Then why did I
get hauled down here? I should be back at the spa—I’ve got a regular at three
o’clock who’s going to be
pissed
.”

“Relax, Liz,” he
said from his seat at the room’s lone table. “They’re just going to ask you a
few simple questions. See if you saw anything. And you heard Xavier—he’s
covering your appointment.”