Caught in the Flames (8 page)

We walk into the kitchen space of the station. There’s a long table in the center with eight other men already digging into their meals. Spaghetti.
Yum.
That’s what I was hoping for. Carbs and meat sauce. Chase hands me a plate and fills mine, then his, before we join the others at the end of the table. Damn, I’m in a room full of mouthwatering meat sauce.

“Zach! I’m telling Callie the Butters story!” Butters frowns as the guy I assume is Zach jumps from his chair. He widens his legs, does a squat, and twists his facial features into a grimace. The entire station fills with laughter, hoots, and lewd comments. I can’t help but giggle.

“The baby! She’s come—mmmm—ing! Nowwweee!” Some guy jumps in and pretends to catch the imaginary baby, but fumbles many times before another guy catches the ball of air and says “Got it!” The shouts and laughter continue and finally Butters gives in to the joyous spirit.

“And now they never pick me first for football!” he yells to me over the jostling and teasing.

“That’s funny. I assume the baby is okay?”

“Turned three last month. Parents come by every year with cake to say thanks.”

“That’s awesome.” I grin and then turn to Chase. “So, what’s your nickname?” The laughter fades and all that can be heard is the scrape of forks against plates. Chase drops his gaze and my eyes dart around to find no one will meet my stare. “What? Is it top secret or something? Embarrassing?” The joking of minutes ago is gone, and still no one glances up.

Chase licks his lips and takes a big chug from one of the water bottles in the middle of the table. “Hey,” I whisper as the room begins to fill with conversation again. I place my hand under the table to touch his thigh. “You don’t have to tell me unless you want to.”

He lifts his eyes, that damn chocolate melting every bit of my heart. “Thanks, Callie.” He dips his head and brushes his lips against mine. “Thanks for being so great. I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.” More. I more than really like him. I’m falling hard and fast for this man. Even if he won’t tell me his stupid nickname. Yet.

I love coffee.

And grocery stores that have little barista shops inside, well, they’re sent from heaven. Or really smart at marketing for all us junkies. Come. Shop. Get your fix.
Don’t mind if I do.

I take the offered latte goodness from the barista and start my trip around the store while pushing my cart in my familiar path. First stop: bread. Though I hear going gluten free is good for the gut. And mine’s been tied up in knots since I met Chase. And worsening with every date. It’s a good pain, though, if that even makes sense. More like anticipation. And I’ve invited him over to dinner tonight, which has my stomach completely twisted because I know tonight’s the night. Tonight I’m giving it up. Tonight we take our relationship to another level. My stomach flops. I open my group text to Alicia and Jill to ask if eating gluten free will prepare me for sex with Chase.

My phone pings but before I can view their responses I glance over my shoulder. A familiar face meets my gaze across the display of baked goodies. Her brows are knit with the exact evil glare I remember. She turns on her heel and strolls her cart down the frozen food aisle. I frantically alert my posse.

Me: OMG! Mean pancake lady is at the grocery store!

Alicia: Aunt Jemima? I love that bitch.

Jill adds nothing but crying laugh emojis. With tentative steps I wind my cart through the tempting aromas of sourdough and whole wheat.

Me: What do I do? I’m scared for my life!

Alicia: Calm down and finish shopping! You have a hot date to fuck tonight!

The butcher lazily stocks fresh meat in the refrigerated display and I push my cart in that direction. I’ll feel safer shopping with a witness in case Meanie decides to approach me, but Alicia’s right. I don’t have time to waste. Chase is coming over in eight hours. I still have to shower, beautify, and make dinner.

I contemplate the meat selection and my menu for tonight. Men like protein—a starving man is a grumpy man—but I don’t want anything that might upset my already nervous stomach. And then there are sauces and spices to consider . . . nothing too acidic or garlicy because kiss-burps are an immediate killer in the foreplay department. God, it’s all so much pressure! I blow out a frustrated exhalation and catch a flash of movement from the corner of my eye.

Fuck! It’s her again. And if she thinks I can’t see her behind that display of chip bags she’s off her rocker. I decide to go with stir fry, sans onions, and grab a package of chicken breasts before pressing on toward the produce section. I stop every few yards to pretend to check my phone when really I’m using the selfie camera to watch this crazy woman dart behind aisle after aisle as she clearly follows me. Who the fuck is this chick and what does she want?

Me: Okay. She’s totally following me. What do I do?

Their replies come almost simultaneously.

Jill: Finish shopping and LEAVE

Alicia: Cut the bitch

Sometimes these two are no help. I seize the peppers I need and wheel my cart toward the selection of rice. I can tell I’m being followed and it messes with my already frazzled nerves. Who does she think she is? Following another woman around the grocery story like a character from a psychological thriller. I toss a bag of brown rice into the mix and strut to the end of the pathway, where I nod a smile at the old woman sorting through her pile of coupons at the end cap. Well, I’m no victim and I sure as hell won’t let this woman think she bested me.

I stroll into the next aisle at a lazy gait, but as soon as I turn the corner I race all the way to the end and turn into the next. Spinning around, I use my cart as a protective shield and wait. It doesn’t take long until she unsuspectingly rounds the corner, hot on my tail.

Her steps halt and her eyes go wide, but not before she bumps my cart.

I shove mine back in response, taking her by surprise. “What’s your game? Why are you following me?”

“Are you talking to me?” Beauty bitch glances over her shoulder.
Ha!
Nice move, woman, but I’m not buying it.

“Yes, I’m talking to you! You’ve been following me the entire time I’ve been here!”

“I’m just shopping, hun,” she scoffs, and then adds beneath her breath, “You must be as crazy as the old lady.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve heard you like to spend time with Cuckoo Kiki.” She waves a hand as if she didn’t just offend me and then narrows her gaze. “You are the neighbor who’s been spending time with that old hag?”

“Sometimes I stop and help Kiki with her cat, but she’s not crazy.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend her, but Kiki’s been nothing but nice to me. This woman—well, she’s more like an evil witch.

“Whatever.” Little Miss Bitch rolls her eyes. “I warned Chase to be careful with you.”

“Chase?” Now she has my full attention. What does she know about Chase?

“Yes, Chase. We spend time together.” I don’t like the way she says together. It’s probably just my jealous and protective inner bitch rearing her ugly head, but I reply without much thought.

“Oh? Are you his mother?” I say sweetly. Her mouth falls open and a sound somewhere between a gasp and a choke comes out. Her cheeks turn a bright pink and her eyes narrow and blaze.

“I never!” She turns on her heel, deserts her cart, and stomps toward the exit. I can’t help the wave of satisfaction that rolls over me in getting the best of that nasty woman.
I never?
Well, I’ve never been stalked through a grocery store.

I finish my shopping, grab the last of the necessary items, and check out. My mind can barely focus on the task. Who was that woman and what does she have to do with my man? I’m loading my goods into the back of my Jeep when my phone pings from my purse. Crap! Alicia and Jill are probably worried I’ve been abducted. I jump into the driver’s seat and dig my cell from my bag.

Chase: Hey, sorry I have to bail tonight.

What the—?
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I’ve been anticipating this night for weeks. Really, since the moment we met, and now it’s not happening. And a text? Really?

My fingers hover over the keypad of my phone while the cursor blinks in the respond box. I don’t even know what to say. He’s canceling our date tonight via text. I deserve better than that, a phone call at least.

Chase: Callie?

Me: Here.

Chase: I’m really sorry. Lopez called out. He’s puking his guts out. I have to cover his shift. I’d rather be with you.

Relief fills my gut. Oh. Thank God. It’s just work. And of course he wouldn’t call, not while on shift. Stupid that I even suspected his intentions were anything other than honorable.

Me: We can reschedule. Be safe.

Chase: Thanks, Callie. You’re the best.

I hate coffee.

Okay, that’s a lie. I just hate the way it’s impossible to jog and drink coffee at the same time. After tossing and turning alone last night when I should have been tangled up with Chase, I woke early and decided if I’m not getting lucky I might as well get in better shape. Besides, what else do I have to do on a Sunday morning?

I lace up my sneakers and hit the pavement with purpose. But that energy fades with each advancing step. My abstinent morning exercise plan messes with my normally caffeine infused routine. So when I turn the corner about a half mile into my jog and Kiki flags me down with a cup of java in her hands, I have to stop.

The cool morning air hits the hot brew and causes a swirl of steam to rise over the mug. She observes my infatuation and invites me inside to join her in a cup. I can’t not say yes. Not saying yes to coffee is like refusing Jesus. Okay, bad example. Lots of people refuse Jesus. I can still be friends with those people. But people who refuse coffee? I don’t trust those fuckers.

So, instead of running to stay in shape for my hot ass fireman boyfriend, I’m having coffee with Kiki at her kitchen table. Enjoying every second. I inhale the roasted brew before cooling it with my exhale to take a long sip.

Kiki’s interior décor is a mix between eclectic grandma and boho chic. Really, I wouldn’t expect normal from Kiki, so it fits her perfectly.

“So, what is it you do for a job, Callie?”

“I’m a graphic designer.”

“Oh, that’s lovely, dear. Do you make T-shirts?” She furrows her brows and sips from her mug.

I grin in response. “I actually do design for a firm that specializes in website development and company re-branding. Sometimes I get to design logos that go on T-shirts.”

“A creative mind. I knew we were kindred spirits.” She pats my arm. “Plus, you’re a coffee addict like me.”

“How did you know?” I sigh as I take another sip. She laughs, a throaty chuckle with a knowing look on her wrinkled face.

“It’s written all over your face. I’m what I like to call seasoned. I’ve been on this earth a while. I can tell these things.”

I bite my lip. She does seem exceptionally intuitive. Maybe she can help me out. “What else can you tell about me?”

“You love yourself one of those fire boys,” she answers with a glint in her eyes.

“How do you know that?” I almost gasp. Maybe she’s psychic or a fortune teller. Oh, maybe she can read my aura.

“I just know.” She shrugs as Silas jumps onto the table. Kiki shoos him down and he complies with an irritated meow. “That, and the ladies at tai chi told me you’ve been dating the captain.” She smirks. When she raises her mug to salute mine I have to let loose a little laugh of my own. No special mind reading powers, just good old fashion neighborhood gossip at its finest.

“Yes, I’ve been dating Chase for a few weeks now.” Remembering the disappointment of yesterday and our missed date I have to resist the urge to pull out my phone to see if he’s called or texted. I’m sure he hasn’t. He won’t get off until nine and with this being his third shift in a row I don’t expect he’ll want to come over.

“Trouble in paradise already? That’s not good! You’re a beautiful woman. He’s hot as sin. What’s the problem?”

“No trouble. Really.” My lips pull into a frown as I remember the Evil Grocery woman. Maybe there’s more trouble than I’m aware of.