I love Saturday mornings.
The start to the weekend. It holds so much promise, possibility, and most importantly, it begins two full days away from work.
This week kicked my ass. The good intention to get up and run before work every morning was lost somewhere around Wednesday. I lie, it was Monday. Monday’s slight hangover killed all intents to exercise. And on top of that, work was crazy busy. Rumors were flying wild about the future of the company. Unlike my co-workers who wasted hours gossiping about possible job layoffs, I put in fourteen-hour days and busted my butt to outperform those with seniority.
I can’t afford to be out of work, so I’ll prove my worth and ensure it doesn’t happen. The long days completely knocked my usual routine and organization out the window. The need to create order pulses through my veins and I awoke this morning with a plan. This week I’m getting back on track.
I’m up early, dressed, showered, with full makeup, and wandering the aisles of my neighborhood market checking item after item off my grocery list. Okay, admittedly, the makeup and cute outfit are for my planned walk by the fire station after meal prepping for the week. But the list is for my seven-day paleo eat clean diet.
Except this list is taking longer than I’d like. I’m currently stuck on nut butter. Nuts can be butter? I scan the refrigerated wall and suck my bottom lip between my teeth. Margarine. Soft spread. Sticks. Made with canola oil. Made with olive oil. Natural butter. Unbelievably not butter. Where the fuck is nut butter?
“Just pick one. They won’t bite.” I lift my chin and bite my lip hard . . . to hold in the moan that threatens to escape. Melted chocolate. His eyes. I have a weakness for chocolate. Fireman’s eyes. Not quite chocolate because they have specks of gold that catch the light. Almost as though they’re dancing. Laughing. He’s laughing at me.
“Cat got your tongue, Callie?” He reaches out and pushes a strand of my hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. I shiver when his rough fingertips graze my skin. Smooth. Way to go, Callie.
“Nuts,” I croak.
“What?” Chase smiles. His eyes crinkle with humor.
“How the fuck do nuts make butter?”
He laughs, a booming sound, and I glance around, self-conscious of drawing attention from strangers. I puff out an exhale and relax, relieved the store is practically empty at this early hour.
“Nut butter is over by the jams, jellies . . . peanut butter.” Ah! Realization and embarrassment wash over me. That kind of butter. He must think I’m an idiot.
“Er—right. That makes better sense. Thank God you came to my rescue! I could’ve been here all day. Probably would have caught a cold even!” Shut up, Callie. I can’t seem to stop rambling once I start. Nervous habit, and this man has every cell in my body aflutter and amiss. Chase’s fingertips on my arm halt the sounds tumbling from my lips.
“How about I do you one better? Let’s walk together?” He pushes my cart out of the aisle and I follow, my steps quick to catch up to his long strides. He winks and nods toward the destination. “Anything to help a woman in distress.”
“I was not in distress. Maybe a little confused. But it’s understandable. I’ve never heard of half of these items.” I wave my list as we arrive at all the spreads. I pluck the cheapest jar from the shelf and add it to my cart. Which he’s still holding tight. Almost as if he’s keeping it hostage.
“New recipe?” He nods to my hand and the list clenched between my fingers.
“New plan. I’m going clean.”
“Pity. I like dirty.”
My eyes snap to his. “Pardon?”
He chuckles. Three other firefighters round the corner with two carts piled high. It’s a sight to behold. They all wear matching navy pants with their County Fire T-shirts tucked into trim waists. Black heavy boots. But it’s the ball caps that complete the look. Give them an aura of mystery, even. Like, even if they aren’t perfectly attractive, they appear so from afar because of the coordinated outfits.
“What’s up, boss? You ready to head out?” Mustache says to Chase.
It’s then I notice their carts. Holy crap—
“How much do you guys eat?” My mouth waters at the piles of packaged bacon, bags of potatoes, and carton upon carton of eggs. Damn. My eyes flick to my healthy eating cart and its sad state in comparison.
“We’re having a community cookout—“He glances down at his watch and his eyes widen. “In an hour.” He releases my cart and glides it back into my hands. “Sorry, Callie, we’ve got to run. You should come by. We’ll be serving breakfast and collecting donations until ten. Bring food for a local shelter and get a hot meal.” He walks backwards, following his crew toward the checkout.
Firemen serving breakfast. Where’s the list? Sign me up.
“Sure. Yeah. Maybe I’ll stop by.” Much better. Even my face hides the merriment bouncing around inside.
“Won’t be clean, though.” His brows waggle and I can’t fight the grin that pulls at my lips.
“That’s okay. I like it dirty, too!” I shout. Facepalm. I don’t, but I want to. I’m tempted to hide my face but his eyes widen slightly and the way they heat from under the bill of his hat catches my breath. The grin that spreads across his features next could be classified as shit eating. He turns and strides out of view.
“Nice, Callie,” I mutter to myself, then snatch my cell from my back pocket and shoot a group text to Alicia and Jill.
Me: Emergency! Hot guys. Bacon. Eggs. Potatoes. My house, 1 hour!
Jill: This qualifies as an emergency how?
Me: Firemen. The firemen are making us breakfast!
Alicia: Wow! Fast much? U already hook up with 1?
Alicia: Save 1 for me! I want my own!
Me: No. They’re doing some fundraiser for the needy. The community needs us!
Jill: I’m a maybe. I have shit to do.
Alicia: Let me finish cleaning my apartment.
Me: No bailing or lame excuses! You have to come. I need you.
I lock my screen and pocket my phone. Excitement bubbles in my belly. It rumbles. Okay, so maybe it’s mostly hunger. I glance down at my half-filled cart. Crap. My list still has a few items unchecked. I better finish soon if I want to get to that breakfast. My morning plan to food prep for the week is abandoned a little too easily at the thought of overindulging in carbs, fat, and firemen.