“You’re going to pony up and pay a renting company next time,” Justin warns, slamming another box into my chest.

“Kristy and the captain will be thanking me. You’re out of shape.”

His chin dips low, the sun highlighting how sweaty his hairline is. “She’ll probably hate you because I won’t be able to get off the couch tomorrow.”

I should probably try to hide my smile from my best friend, but don’t. The captain has been nagging him to work on his cardio. In our line of work, being out of shape can kill a person. Maybe this dose of reality will help him realize it.

A low whistle comes from my oldest friend who didn’t have a beer belly, or traces of gray hair when we met twenty-five years ago while in the same kindergarten class—and certainly not an obnoxious and overbearing wife who I can barely stand. “Is that your neighbor?”

He isn’t giving a damn about me laughing at his weakened state—he’s distracted by the blonde getting out of her car in the driveway over. I don’t have to turn to know it’s her. I’d seen her when my realtor showed me the house and then again when it was being inspected. His distraction can’t be blamed; she’s beautiful with summer-kissed skin and legs that look invitingly toned, but the idea of dating my neighbor has placed a permanent black mark over her. You know those rules about not eating where you shit? It’s something along those exact same guidelines. Living beside your ex guarantees the chances of ugly retaliation when things end badly.

“Are they roommates?”

Justin’s question has my head turning like a well-laid trap. The blonde is there as expected, but beside her is a brunette I haven’t seen before, wearing clothes that tell me she works in some sort of office and a pair of heels any man would love to see worn with nothing but a smile. Her side profile is obscured by her short, dark hair that ends barely above her shoulders, making my hands itch with the desire to tuck it behind her ear so I can see her better.

“We’re moving poker tournaments here.” Justin has moved closer, likely to get a better view. “Turn around,” he whispers my thought aloud. “Come on! Come on!”

Look back! Look back! Spin around just a little!

The brunette is on the very last step when she turns her head just enough that I catch her hair move and a glimpse of not one, but both eyes looking in my direction. I can’t tell the color from here, just that they’re wide and friendly. They, along with the laugh she’s sharing with her friend, are laser copied to the back of my eyelids.

Score!

“I think you might need a lot of help with unpacking.”

I turn to Justin as the women disappear inside, my eyebrows rising, making my hat slide up. “Even you don’t like your wife.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Coen.”

Chuckling, I turn toward my new front door, wishing I would be willing to consider changing my rules about the proximity of how close I live to a girl I date.

“What’s in this thing?” Justin drops the offending box several inches from the ground, emitting a loud thud as it connects with the tiled floor, the women forgotten.

“What the hell, dude? You’re going to break whatever it is!”

“You pack like Kristy and don’t balance the weight. You’re not supposed to pack all the heavy stuff in one box!”

“This isn’t a production. I moved three blocks; it’s just about getting my shit moved so I don’t have to live with my eighty-year-old landlord.”

“You’ve moved more than anyone I know. You should have this down to a fine science.”

“I do. It’s called bringing you with me.” I wink.

Justin’s eyes become slits as he glares at me. “This is the last time, asshole.”

I hope it is. At thirty, I’ve moved more times than years I’ve been alive. I’m ready to finally unpack all these boxes and see what I actually own.

“You going to do a barbecue so the station can come and see your first big-boy house?”

“Stop looking for reasons for me to invite you over to gawk at my neighbors. You know my rules.”

“You’re sticking to them?” He sounds incredulous, like I’m personally offending him.

“Do you not remember the time I dated the girl who lived just a block away? She ruined my yard! Burned threats and obscenities in it that cost me my left nut to have fixed. Then she mutilated my mailbox and broke the living room windows.” I shake my head, trying to think of the other headaches she caused. “I was evicted from that house.”

“I told you she was psycho that first night.” He did, but I’m not going to admit to recalling it.

“Psycho doesn’t cover it.”

“You remember that other one who went batshit crazy? The one who parked on the street so she could watch you?” Justin pauses for just a second, allowing the memories to flood my thoughts. “She lived twenty miles from you. It’s your taste in women you need to change, not your radius to where they live.”

“Hilarious, especially when this comes from the guy who married the woman who legally changed her last name before you guys got married.”

“Yeah, but Kristy’s just impatient. Once she gets her mind made up, she gets things done. You, on the other hand, find women who want to lock you in the basement and have ten babies,” he says as we make our way back out to the truck for another load.

I laugh out loud, picturing the scene he’s just created. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It really doesn’t.” He laughs, but his attention isn’t on me—it’s on my neighbor’s house.

“If they call the cops because you’re out here leering, you’re going to have to get a whole lot more than just ice cream to make up for those headlines,” I warn him.

“I was just noticing her chimney looks like a hazard.”

“You’re the worst liar.”

He sets the box he had lifted back down. “We should offer to look at it.”

“You’re out of your mind.” I refuse to put my own box down, hoping it will deter his need to flirt, though I know it won’t. The day I met Justin, he was outside of the girls’ restroom, offering to check them for millipedes. There’s no doubt someone would feel a millipede on them, but he had a system set up that allowed him access to lift every girl’s shirt or skirt up in school, and he hasn’t changed a bit.

He moves swiftly, ignoring my objections as he adds his signature swagger to each step.

If I hadn’t bought this house with the intention of living here for the next sixty years, I’d watch from beside my truck with a five spot in favor of them slamming the door in his face. Instead, I’m racing to keep up with him before he can ring the doorbell and deliver a ridiculous version of the knight-in-sooted-armor routine he loves to use.

I’m breathing heavily when his pudgy fist raps against the front door, and have to suck in my next breath so as to not appear like I really did just sprint across the front yard when the door opens wide.

The blonde appears, her hair curled in waves over her shoulder. Her light blue eyes are wide and bright with the surprise of seeing us, but her lips are twisted into a smile that reveals she isn’t that surprised. “Hi! You guys must be the new neighbors?” She looks between us twice before settling her attention on me.

Justin slaps my shoulder—hard enough that if my stance wasn’t spread so wide from taking the stairs two at a time, I’d probably have stumbled forward. Likely that was his plan. Insurance in case they had known to already call and service their chimney or didn’t believe the sales pitch he’s about to spout. “This is Coen, and he is indeed your new neighbor. I’m his friend, his best friend, Justin. I’m just helping him get moved and settled.”

With raised eyebrows, I watch his feigned sincerity, coming across as a gentleman, though he’s only a marginal one, forced into the role by his wife.

Her growing smile reveals she’s buying it. “Well, aren’t you sweet?” She brings a hand to her chest, exposing her southern roots. “I’m Rachel. It’s so nice to meet y’all.”

“We just wanted to stop by and introduce ourselves, and offer some neighborly assistance. You see, we’re actually firefighters.” Justin pauses—creating an intermission where he awaits the accolades we often receive. She fills the break with the expected look of admiration and then proceeds to tell us how grateful she is for all of our services. He thanks her in return and then continues his plan of attack. “We were just noticing that your chimney looks like it might be in need of an inspection, and wanted to extend our services and ensure it won’t be a problem for you ladies.”

Rachel’s eyes grow wide. “Does it look dangerous?”

“It’s tough to say without getting on your roof and taking a closer look. Do you have a ladder that can extend up there?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve never been on the roof. Clumsy me, I’d probably fall off and break my neck!” She giggles. I’ll admit it’s charming.

Justin’s already pulling his wallet free from his back pocket. “Just call this number on Sunday. Coen will be on shift then and can come out and inspect it for you.”

“You guys would make time to do that?”

“Absolutely. Keeping citizens safe is our top priority.”

There’s not a fat chance in hell dispatch would ever send the call through, and Justin knows it—that’s why he’s scribbling my cell phone number on the back of the card.

“Or, we’ll be around. Getting more loads of things from Coen’s old place. If you’re around later, we could come by once we have one of his ladders.”

“You guys have been working so hard!” She steps back into her house. “I can’t believe I’ve been so rude! Why don’t you come in and have some sweet tea and take a little break?”

Her southern accent is like honey, making the invitation hard to turn down, but I don’t have to consider it because Justin has already accepted and is halfway into her house.

“Ella!” Rachel calls.

“Are they gone?” The words sound like they’re yelled from somewhere upstairs.

Rachel’s eyes round.

“I can’t believe they came over! What excuse did they try?” Her voice gets louder as she approaches us.

Once again, I’m considering what I would be doing, or in this case saying, if they weren’t my neighbors. The silent dialogue directed at Justin’s expense has me smirking. It’s almost too good to not say aloud, but Rachel’s discomfort is evident with her reddened cheeks and loud coughs she’s faking in attempt to cover what has already been said.

“Do you know what happened to those black capris you wore last week? I was going to wear them Friday…” The brunette appears in the kitchen with a dozen dresses thrown over her arm. Her eyes are as wide as her friend’s, allowing me to see that they’re also blue, nearly as light as Rachel’s but a more vibrant hue that reminds me of the blue found at the base of a flame. It’s the shade that is hardest to see and the most dangerous because it’s the thin wall surrounding the most intense heat. And just like a flame, her eyes are mesmerizing, causing me to stare blankly as she stumbles over words that are likely an apology.

“…Ella,” she says, extending her hand and forcing me out of my stupor.

“Coen.” Her hand is freezing as it slides into mine, but she only holds it a moment before slipping it free, her eyes never focusing on me as she moves to Justin and shakes his hand.

“Good news, the new neighbor’s a firefighter,” Rachel tells Ella, her smile stretched wider in an attempt to further apologize as she reaches for glasses and pulls a pitcher of tea from the fridge.

Ella blinks in rapid succession, then draws her shoulders back. It’s as though she’s just heard we’re male strippers or vandals. She looks to Rachel and nods once. It’s a tight jerking motion that makes her unease even more apparent. “That’s great. If you decide to barbecue again this summer, you’ll just need to yell next door.”

Rachel’s laugh isn’t the same honey sweet sound it had been, but it is close, making it clear something has transpired. Rachel hands out glasses with another warm smile. “I nearly burned down my patio last summer.” She giggles again.

If I wasn’t so distracted by the way Ella refuses to look at Justin or myself, I might be interested to hear the story Rachel is sharing.

“Yeah, you have to be careful when it gets windy outside, especially with how low your overhang is.” Justin doesn’t miss a beat, catching me up to speed and holding the conversation for both of us.

“Do you guys get lots of calls for fires when barbecue season begins?” Rachel asks.

“Here and there, but fall is worse. Candles are one of the leading causes of fires. And Christmas trees always bring a rush of calls, but all in all we receive far more calls for medical assistance than fires. Accidents, allergies, things like that,” Justin explains.

“We know all about food allergies,” Rachel says with a shudder as she looks to Ella. “Don’t we?”

Ella gives a tight-lipped smile in response.

“Food allergy?” I ask.

“My son, actually.” She swallows, and those captivating blue eyes meet mine with a silent challenge. “He’s allergic to peanuts.”

She looks too young to have a son. When I don’t balk or frown at the mention of her having a child, she diverts her attention once again, focusing instead on the glass Rachel has placed before her.

“Peanut allergies can be rough,” Justin sympathizes.

“They’re in so many things!” Rachel agrees. “Halloween is terrible.”

Ella pushes away from the counter she had settled against, her arm still buried beneath numerous articles of clothing. “I’m so sorry to be rude, but I have to get going.”

“No, that’s … us too,” I say.

“Yeah, we’ve got a few more trips to make.” Justin drains the rest of his tea. “But please remember to give us a call. Especially since there’s a kid living here.”

“Oh, no,” Ella says, shaking her head. “I don’t live here.”

I feel Justin’s eyes on me like laser beams, rejoicing that my own rules may not be applicable to her any longer with this piece of information.

“Yeah, Ella and her son, Hayden, live down on the other side of the neighborhood.”

Ella looks startled with the information Rachel has shared with us.

“Well then we’ll likely be seeing both of you around.” Justin places his glass in the sink and turns with a smile. “Thank you so much for the hospitality. It was a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Oh, anytime. If you need anything, please feel welcome to just holler. And I’ll be sure to call you about the chimney.”

“The tea was really great.” Depositing my glass next to Justin’s, I want to kick myself.

Really great? Who says that?

We head down the short hallway to the front door with both women behind us.

“Thank you again for coming by,” Rachel says. “I’m so glad you guys noticed my chimney. I never even thought about it.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” I say.

“But,” Justin’s rounded eyes move from me to Rachel, “we’ll be sure to check it out and make certain it’s safe.”

Rachel and Ella return his smile with different variances of authenticity.

Taking the last stair off the porch, I turn and stare at her long enough that she’s forced to acknowledge me. “Nice to meet you.” I want to say her name. I want to say her name so badly my throat refuses to suck in a breath without saying it.

She cocks her head to the side and forces another smile. “It was nice meeting you too.” While her features remain aloof, there’s a warmth in her tone that convinces me she’s working harder to dislike us than she is at hiding her emotions.