The flashes of memory seemed to emerge like some sort of loathsome beast from the fog of the night before, a huge, hairy thing that was all teeth and talons as it lumbered out of my drunken memory. I stood in the bathtub, the hot water from the showerhead beating down on my face, my mouth open in surprise, my eyes squeezed tightly shut.

I’d kissed Matthew Jones.

I’d thrown myself at him, almost literally, and dragged his lips down to mine in my drunken state. And, when he’d pulled back from my kiss, I’d yelled at him and slammed the door in his face before I retreated inside like a spoiled toddler throwing a hissy fit. Disgusted with myself, I shampooed my hair and rinsed my body over and over, trying to wash the embarrassment away.

Never again. No more drinking. I didn’t care if it was my vacation, or not, I was never doing that to my body or the people around me. Never, ever, ever again.

After I toweled off and brushed my teeth, I headed into the kitchen for some coffee, dressed only in shorts and a cropped t-shirt. It was just before eight in the morning, and I couldn’t believe I’d slept in so late. During the school year, I was up by five-thirty most days, bustling around the house and slurping down coffee.

A knock came at the front door as I put the half-and-half back in the fridge.

“Who could that be?” I mumbled. I’d already paid the newspaper boy his two dollars for the weekly delivery subscription. He’d been chasing me all over town for it for days.

“Rebecca?” Matt’s voice called from outside as he knocked again. “You awake?”

My mouth dropped open. What was he doing here so early in the morning? Was he here to demand an explanation for my childish, forward actions? I wracked my brain for any plausible reason, when it finally hit me. How could I have forgotten I’d agreed to accompany him to see Uncle Zeke?

My hair was still slightly wet and I hadn’t even bothered to put on real clothes today. At least my head didn’t hurt anymore, even if the world did do that weird, wavy delay you always got with a gnarly hangover.

“Rebecca?” he called again.

I nearly ran out of the kitchen and to the front door, calling, “Just a minute!” I got to the door, unlocked the deadbolt, and pulled it open. “I’m so sorry! I completely forgot about this morning!”

There he was, standing there in all his blonde glory, his bicep-defining chambray button down tucked loosely into tight, well-fitting slacks that tickled the imagination in such a wonderful way. “Sleep late?” He gave me a small smile that almost looked like a smirk.

I sighed. “A little,” I admitted as I tried to flick a damp lock of hair out of my face. “Did we really agree to eight?”

“You were a little tipsy,” he said, his eyes glancing down my body, pausing at my bare midriff, and settling on my barely covered legs. “But you seemed on board with it, so I just went with the flow. You going to be up to it? It’s a long drive.”

I suddenly felt very self-conscious. Here I was, standing in front of a handsome, tough firefighter, with a smile that lit up a room, and all I had on was a pair of shorts and an old, cropped college tee. And, even worse, it was in plain sight for all the neighbors to see.

“Why don’t you come in?” I asked, stepping back. “If Gladys looks out her front door, she’s going to think something’s up.”

“No, I can just wait in the truck. It’s not a big deal.”

“Get in here, Matthew.” I rolled my eyes as he chuckled and slid past me. I shut the door behind him. “I’ll be just a minute. Make yourself at home. There’s some coffee in the kitchen that’s fresh.”

“I’m fine,” he said as I turned and headed back to the bedroom. “Had plenty already.”

“Suit yourself,” I told him as I closed the bedroom door. “If you change your mind, though, the mugs are right above the coffee pot.”

I figured that since all my teaching outfits were just about the level of business casual, they would be the best fit for visiting my godfather in prison. Still struggling to believe that phrase had actually entered my life, I began to pull out some work clothes, a flowy top and a nice pair of slacks, and lay them on the bed. I went back over to the bedroom door and cracked it open a little. “Going to warn you, I still need to do my face. It’s going to be a minute.”

“Take your time,” he said from the living room. “But not too much. I want to get there by at least early afternoon.”

I finished drying my hair in my bathroom and dressed as quickly as I could. Fully clothed, I sat down at my vanity to do my makeup. The whole time, I was wondering how I’d broach the subject of what happened last night. I’d made a complete ass of myself, and a solution to this little pickle of a problem hadn’t exactly presented itself. Worst of all? My memory of his phantom lips on mine, in my dream no less, were as real as ever.

I’d do anything to feel his arms around me again, to feel his soft mouth pressed against mine just one more time. Just thinking back on it sent a tingly warmth through my body, one that I desperately tried to ignore.

“Rebecca,” I sternly reminded myself in the mirror, “no more of this shit. Hear me? You made a big enough fool of yourself last night, no reason to make it worse. Just remember, you need to keep this professional. Maybe, after everything’s said and done, you can ask him out for a drink.” I paused and licked my unpainted lips. “Scratch that. Dinner. You probably shouldn’t drink around him. Not for a while at least, or maybe ever.”

A little while later, I was smoothing down the front of my outfit as I stepped out into the hallway, the heels of my flats clicking on the tile. “Ready?” I asked.

He was perched on the edge of my loveseat, phone in hand, and he looked up at me with a mixture of shock and, I don’t know, something else. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“Matthew?” I asked, carefully closing the bedroom door behind me. “You okay?”

He shook his head, like he was trying to put some sense back in it, and stood up. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Do I look alright?” I asked, walking into the living room. Just a few feet separated us now, and I had to hold back my competing urge to both apologize for the night before, and to try and recreate it.

He nodded as his eyes traveled over me and my outfit. “Yeah, you look great.”

“Don’t think it’s too much?” I asked, smoothing down the front of my green top. “I’m just, I don’t know, I’m nervous about going down there. It’s not every day you have to go to prison to visit the man who raised you.”

He took a step toward me. “I know, it’s tough. And seems weird. But, believe me, we’ll get him out of there. Just be patient. Cases like this take time to unravel, and there’s a process. We’re only a couple steps in.”

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. “I know. It’s just hard. Everything just seems out of whack. Like the world’s been flung off its axis and has gone off-kilter.”

He nodded. “Well, you’re right, it has. Someone’s taken a big swipe at your life and knocked you right off your feet. It’s okay to feel upset and disoriented with everything going on. Most people do. Remember, that’s why you hired Frost Security. Fixing things is what we do.”

I looked up at him and gave him a tight smile. “Thanks, Matthew. For everything so far.”

“Oh, I haven’t done anything. Not yet.”