Lobster and Fire
Ana
I was determined to stay locked in the house for the rest of…. Who was I kidding? Forever! I was never going to leave my house again. Inside my head, an eight-foot gorilla was pounding his enormous paws on my brain, and my limbs had turned into some kind of gelatinous material. I had never gotten drunk, so this was all new to me. Add the fact that I couldn’t be more embarrassed for kissing my fireman over his delicious shepherd’s pie, and I truly wanted nothing else than a chasm to open under my feet and swallow me whole.
Why, oh why had I thought that drinking was a good idea? Since my lips very rarely touched any kind of alcoholic substance, what made me think I could drink even the two fingers of red wine without feeling its effects tenfold? Now, not only was I as sick as a dog, but also totally and utterly mortified by what I had done.
It was a good kiss though. Gavin’s lips had been soft and yielding when, fueled by the red devil, I inserted my tongue between them. His taste was heavenly—not that I had ever tasted anything heaven-bound. My body had liquefied and, if it hadn’t been for Gavin holding me up, I would have fallen chest-first into the leftovers of our dinner.
The phone rang, loud and strident, and I moaned. Who could be calling me at—? I looked at the clock. Hell, it was already eleven and I was still in my pajamas. I slid my finger across the screen and gingerly placed the phone by my ear. “Ana speaking.”
“Are you okay? I was worried about you.” Oh, God! It was none other than sweet and hot Gavin. The last person I wanted to talk to right then. “You looked a little green when I dropped you off at your place last night.” In fact, I didn’t remember much of what happened after the infamous kiss. Not sure whether it was the wine or the fact I had blocked it out. I was so ashamed I had acted like a harlot. Shit, there it was again. The writer in me. Did anyone even use that word still?
“Hi, Gavin.” I sounded like a penitent little girl who had just read her mom’s spicy-hot romance novel. “I’m okay. A little hungover, that’s all. Not too used to drinking, obviously.”
Gavin’s laughter came through loud and clear. He had a lovely laugh, bright and bubbly. “Yeah, I figured it. You only had an inch of wine. There was still some left in your glass.”
I giggled and my head nearly exploded. “I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?” Better come clean and call out the elephant in the room. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? The kiss?” I knew I had kissed him—and loved every second of it—but hearing him say it out loud made my ears burn against the phone. “Why would you be sorry? I had been thinking about doing the same all evening.” Wait! What? He wanted to kiss me? “You have by far the sexiest lips I’ve ever seen.”
My friends would have to come and gather what was left of my body into a bottle. He thought I had sexy lips. Was he teasing me?
“Really?” I was not very good at repartee.
“Yes, really.” His laughter had stopped and his voice was low and warm, seeping through the phone speaker like a love song. “It was a great kiss. Even though I’m not sure you were 100 percent aware of what you were doing.” I laughed nervously. “I would like to go out with you again, if that’s okay. I’ll even help you with the research for your book. I can be the real guy you’re looking for.” Oh, no, he couldn’t. He may not be a Hulk-type guy and have his body covered in tattoos, or have a face that rivaled Dorian Gray’s, but he surely wasn’t ordinary.
I cleared my throat. “I’d like that.” I couldn’t get over the fact he thought my forever-dry lips were sexy. Not cute or sweet. S-E-X-Y.
“I’m off this Saturday. Picnic by the lake?”
This was the best thing that had happened to me since the day I got my first book contract. I had been divorced now for longer than I had been married, and I had to admit that, even though I wrote romances for a living, I had pretty much given up on love. While many of my friends began looking for the companionship of men shortly after their divorces, I ran the opposite way. My life experiences with romance were so far from ideal they might as well be from different planets. But at that moment, as Gavin asked me out, a little flame of hope and excitement lit up in my heart.
I wasn’t sure it was a good thing.
By the time I hung up, my heart was racing in my chest and my fingers were itching to write. Unfortunately, my hangover was less than cooperative, my head still pounding with every movement, every flash of light. So, I took a nap instead.
When I woke up a couple hours later, I felt even worse. I knew better than thinking naps would refresh me. Ever since I was a child, any naps I took, no matter how brief, always made me feel worse. My mom used to say my wires must be crossed, since I was the only kid in kindergarten that woke up grumpier than before her nap. My head was not hurting like before, but now I felt as if I was sleepwalking. Maybe I am.
“Delta, can you come over?” Delta was my best friend. Unlike me, she was an extrovert that lived to socialize. The little social life I had I owed to her always trying to drag me to events. In the terribly bleak days after my divorce, Delta had been my rock. My mother lived on the other side of the country at the time, and even though she was always willing to talk and listen to me, it was not the same thing as having a shoulder to cry on. A real, flesh and bone one. Delta was it.
“What happened?” From the other end of the line, her voice sounded concerned. “Are you okay?”
I yawned, and a flash of pain shot through my temples at the movement. “I’m fine. A little hungover.” I heard her intake a big gulp of air. “Yes, Delta, I drank last night. And yes, I’m probably out of my freaking mind.”
“Was it at a party?” Come on! She knew me better than that.
“No, I was on a date.” She didn’t let me finish. I had to pull the cell phone away from my ear, afraid that all the squealing coming from the other end would make my head explode. “Don’t get too excited. It was sort of a—” Hell, what was it exactly? “Research date, I guess.”
Delta laughed. “How scientific of you. Does it involve experiments, or is it purely theoretical?”
I had to giggle. She always made me laugh. “Stop making fun of me. Research for a book. My publisher wants me to write a novella about a fireman, and he’s one.”
I could hear the clucking of a tongue and I could imagine her face clearly, her eyes squinting in playful suspicion, her head shaking from side to side in mock disapproval. “Oh, he is, is he? Has he started a fire or is he putting it out? Or both?”
My first instinct was to deny it, but the truth was he was indeed starting a fire in my heart and other parts of body. One I hadn’t felt in a very long time and had given up on. “He’s very cute.” The understatement of the year. He was so hot my eyes were scorched every time I looked at him.
“Give me twenty minutes to put on some makeup and I’ll be right over.” Delta didn’t wait for goodbyes, and I was left listening to the dead signal.
I might as well take a quick shower and down a couple cups of coffee if I was going to be semifunctional for the rest of the day. As I collected a fresh towel from the linen closet, my laptop caught my eye. Oh, shit. It was calling me again. The ideas and feelings in my brain and my heart were exploding like popcorn in a hot pan, and my fingers were literally itching to write them down. I resisted. I really did. But after a few moments of standing there, holding the soft towel against my chest, the laptop and my muse won. All thoughts of a warm shower shoved aside, I sat in front of the devilish contraption and began typing away.
When the bell rang, I snapped out of my semihypnotic state and groaned. Man, I stink. Delta wrinkled her nose when she laid eyes on my disheveled hair and smeared mascara.
“Wow! You got it bad.” I stared longingly at my computer, half regretting having called her. “Don’t even think about it, woman. You’re not going to write. You’re in urgent need of a shower.” She laid her hands on my shoulders and pushed me toward the bathroom. “I’ll brew some coffee while you wash up.”
The hot water falling over my face and shoulders felt heavenly. For a while, I forgot the soap and stood still, allowing the relaxing spray to hit me straight on the face and run freely down the rest of me. My muscles relaxed and my mind stopped racing. Delta called out my name from outside the door, waking me up from my wet reverie. Wearing only a towel and with my hair dripping, I opened the bathroom door and strolled to the living room, from where the tantalizing scent of fresh-brewed coffee emanated.
“Shit, Delta. That coffee smells—” It felt as if I’d hit a wall. Right in the middle of my messy living room and wearing an expression I couldn’t decipher—was it delight? Surprise maybe?—was my current inspiration for a not-so-common firefighter. I nearly choked on my own tongue. “Gavin? What—?”
His grass-green eyes scanned me from top to bottom and his jaw dropped. I belatedly remembered I was half naked, and grabbing a pillow from the nearby couch, attempted to cover myself. To no avail. The stupid pillow was the size of a wash rag and totally useless in terms of a buffer between my wet, too-exposed body and his hungry eyes.
“Sorry, I thought you knew I was here.” Like a gentleman, he finally averted his eyes, but he had already had an eyeful. Fuming, I glanced at my best friend who stood next to him, arms crossed and a conniving little smile on her lips. She did it on purpose. She knew all too well that I’d be coming out of that bathroom in a very immodest state of seminakedness and did nothing to warn me. I’m going to kill you. My telepathic abilities seemed to be off, because she smiled even bigger.
Without another word, I fled from the room to go slip into some yoga pants and a T-shirt. How mortifying—and yet rather exciting—to be caught in that state by the one man I was—do I dare think it?—falling for. Upon my return to the room, my cheeks blazing and my heart flipping around like an acrobat on crack, Gavin stopped talking to my traitor friend to focus solely on me. I liked that. A lot.
“I’m so sorry, Ana. I had no idea—” Looking appropriately contrite, Gavin searched for words without much success. I was a writer and I was having trouble finding them myself.
“I’ve a feeling neither you nor I had much to do with this.” I threw a pointed stare at Delta, who was now sitting on the armchair, her legs crossed demurely and an innocent smile on her face. Stop it, Delta. I know exactly what you’re up to. “Why did you come over? We just talked on the phone.”
“I forgot to tell you, you left something at my house last night.” Delta blinked briefly, and I watched as she licked her lips like a wolf slobbering over a fat lamb. Gavin stretched his hand to me. “I figured you’d need this.”
It was my writer’s notebook, the little pink pad I carried around with me in case ideas just came knocking out of the blue. A good writer could never be taken by surprise, and muses were finicky beings.
“Thank you for bringing it over.” Our fingers touched as I retrieved the notebook from his hands, and I swear I felt as if a bolt of lightning had come down from the skies and baked me from the inside out. “Coffee?”
Delta was still giving me that funny look of hers that spoke louder than words. “He’s hot,” it said. “I will date him if you don’t.”
Think again, my friend.
Before she could stand up and go get Gavin the coffee, I did it myself, quickly returning with a steaming mug of dark roast and sitting next to him on the couch. I didn’t do it on purpose, but somehow our knees ended up touching each other, causing a pleasant kind of burning to go up my leg into my thigh and beyond.
“I know we had set up a date—” He lowered his voice and looked sideways at Delta who—nosy as she was—was tilting her head so she could better hear what he was saying. “But I wanted to see you sooner. The notebook was a terrible excuse.” He chuckled softly, sweeping a hand over his luscious lips.
If the smile on my face was as wide as the one I felt inside of me, I must have looked like a total fool. “I’m glad you came, even though I do wish I was dressed more appropriately—or at all.” We both laughed, the memory of his eyes on my half-naked body making me flush all over again.
“Were you always a fireman?” It was Delta, who could not keep quiet for more than a few minutes at a time. My angry glare didn’t make a dent in her resolve to fish for more information. “How old are you anyway? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?”
Gavin smiled. “More like thirty-one. No spring chicken here.” He looked at me as if apologizing for not being in his twenties anymore. I smiled even wider. I was thirty-four and very glad to find out he was in my age group. “I’ve been a fireman for a long time, even though I did have other odd jobs beforehand.”
“Does it pay well?”
I was flabbergasted. How dare she? That was way too personal of a question. I loved Delta, but she had no filter whatsoever.
In his defense, he took it in stride. With a soft chuckle, he shook his head. “God, no. The pay is awful. The only reason I can live off it is because my father left me a small fortune when he died some years ago.”
I was horrified that he sounded so blasé about his father’s passing. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”
“I know I sound kind of stonehearted, but I didn’t know my father well at all.” He must have noticed the shock on my face. “I told you that he left my mom and me when I was only two years old, never to come back. I guess he felt guilty about it, and a few months before his death he contacted me to tell me he had named me in his will as an heir to most of his considerable fortune.”
Delta was leaning forward, obviously enraptured by the story. Man, did she love drama!
“At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I wanted nothing to do with the man who had left us with nothing.” Gavin’s voice had gone flat, and his beautiful, vibrant eyes dulled. “But less than a year after, we were notified that he had passed away and had left me quite a bit of money. Apparently, he died of colon cancer.”
Half-consciously I scooted closer to him, my hand automatically seeking his. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Gavin accepted my small gesture of comfort and entwined his fingers with mine. “And he never actually talked to you?”
His eyes hardened. “He tried, but I never gave him the chance. I was too angry with him. Where was he when I needed a father and my mother was struggling to make ends meet? I’m not sure I’ve forgiven him even now.”
Delta leaned farther, her eyes shining with interest. “How long ago was this?”
None of your business, girl. But I wanted to know, if truth be told.
“Hell, more than seven years ago now.” His eyes came alive again. “It was right after my accident.”
As if we were on the same exact wavelength, Delta and I exclaimed at the same time, “What accident?”
He laughed and my heart melted even further. He was so sweet. “I had a big car accident about eight years ago. I was in the newspaper and everything.” He chuckled again and licked his lips. “Not the best way to get famous, I guess.”
“Well, you obviously survived.” Delta, the no-filter queen. “Were you seriously hurt?”
I threw her another warning glare, but to no avail.
“I was in the hospital for months. I think the news was what made him contact us.” He was silent for a moment, as if digesting what he had just said. “Funny how tragedy makes everyone reevaluate their lives.”
Taking advantage of his hand in mine, I gave it a little squeeze, delighting in the warmth of his skin against mine. “I’m glad you’re okay now.”
His gorgeous eyes locked with mine. “I’ve never been as happy to be alive as since I met you.”
Good thing I was sitting down. My legs turned to Jell-O and my heart began beating so fast I was afraid I would have a heart attack. We stared into each other’s eyes, momentarily forgetting the presence of my friend in the room. Until she not-so-delicately coughed out, “Cheesy.”
If my eyes could shoot actual bullets, she would have been a colander right then.
As if waking up from a dream, Gavin let go of my hand—I may have sighed at that point—and got to his feet. “I’m so sorry. You guys were having a girls’ day and I barged in on you without warning. I better go.”
I wanted to protest but thought better of it. The last thing I wanted was to seem needy.
“See you soon?” I had followed him to the front door, where he turned around suddenly and I almost crashed into him. My hands went to his chest and a tiny sound of admiration for such strong pecs escaped my lips. “Sorry.”
Gavin looked behind me and then, lowering his face, he brushed his lips across mine in a brief but maddening caress. “Can’t wait.” He opened the door and was gone, leaving me with this feeling of emptiness. Shit. I was head over heels already.
***
Gavin
The tones woke me up from a rather erotic dream and a giant, deep groan left my lips even before my eyes popped open. Shit! The last thing I wanted to do after dreaming of Ana’s delicious—and very naked—body was to rush to go fight a fire. I was fighting a blaze of my own—one that wouldn’t be quenched with water.
I dragged myself out of bed, adjusted my overstimulated body parts inside my clothes, and quickly slipped the hanging elastic suspenders over my shoulders, and my arms into the sleeves of the tunic. My helmet lay on the small dresser by my bed and I grabbed it on the way out the door. Jackson’s voice came on the loudspeaker telling us it was a structure fire not too far from where we were and that there seemed to be several people still stuck in the house.
After all the years of practice, it was now easier to jump into the cabin of the fire truck propelled solely by my arms and one leg. As I tied the air tank to my back, I turned on the ignition, the sirens, and the lights, and we were on the move. Jackson, sitting next to me, buckled on his breathing gear as well and adjusted his helmet as he proceeded to give us more information about the incident through our helmet intercoms.
The air was thick with smoke as soon as we turned the corner of the street. People were standing on the sidewalks, many in their nightclothes, a mix of curiosity and horror stamped on their faces. My colleagues jumped out of the truck even before I had it totally stopped. I jumped after them and immediately engaged the pump and began to stretch the line. Jackson was already inspecting the structure, and the other men were coming back toward me to get their lines.
As usual, the squad worked in perfect synchrony, like a well-oiled machine. My job was to make sure my men had what they needed when they needed, often having to anticipate it. After the accident, I’d thought my days as part of the unit were done. When Jackson had offered me the engineer’s gig, I didn’t hesitate. It wasn’t the same as before, but I’d still be doing what I loved and with the people I considered my second family. Sometimes I wished I could do more, but most of the time I was happy to be the support for these great guys. After all, what kid had not dreamed of driving a fire engine?
By the time we got back to the station, dirty and exhausted, morning was peeking through the thick clouds. Work was not done though. Until all the equipment, including the truck, was clean, inspected, and ready to go again if necessary, no one in the station was resting. By the time everything was done, my shift was over and I could go home.
After a quick shower, I literally fell face-first onto my bed and fell asleep. Normally I didn’t dream after a night’s work, but that day I had vivid dreams. Pleasant dreams that involved a certain tiny writer and her ability to make me come undone with a smile.
***
Ana
I remember being a young girl and thinking that time passed by with the speed of a very tired slug. As I got older, it was almost as if the slug got exposed to some weird radioactive rays and became Super-Slug, flying by at the speed of light. However, it seemed as if my childhood unfriendly slug had returned to plague my days, for the week couldn’t have gone by any slower. I couldn’t wait for Saturday and the promised picnic with Mr. Fireman, and yet the hours, minutes, even tiny seconds ticked away so slowly I had to wonder whether time itself was running out of batteries.
I had changed clothes at least ten times, and came to the realization that my wardrobe was not date-friendly at all. Saturday was finally here, and there wasn’t a single piece of clothing in my closet that I considered worthy of such a momentous occasion. I may have to go shopping. There was no time though. Gavin would be here in less than an hour, and I was still in my underwear with a rat’s nest for hair and a face covered in red splotches. Out of desperation, I finally picked a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt with a nice, ocean-blue scarf for a splash of color. I slipped on my comfortable Skechers and focused on making my hair halfway presentable.
The last couple days had been hectic. I was a bundle of nerves thinking about what may—or may not—happen during this much-dreamed-of date with Gavin. He was obviously interested or he wouldn’t have kissed me. Well, okay, the first time I had been the one doing the kissing, but he had admitted to liking it. That was good news, right? I hadn’t dated in so many years I had no idea what was a good sign.
My marriage had been far from a success—more like a succession of battles and failed attempts at preventing something that had never been meant to work from failing. Even though I didn’t believe in fate, my marriage had been doomed from the get-go. My ex-husband and I had nothing in common. And when I said nothing, I totally meant it. I was an introvert; he’s an extreme extrovert. My idea of a fun night out involved a dark movie theater and ridiculous amounts of buttered popcorn. His was a crowded floor at a hard rock concert involving absurd amounts of beer. I was a solid believer in abstinence from drugs—I made an exception for coffee and chocolate—but my ex was a true follower of the mantra “the higher the better.” I was a dog person; he liked cats. I watched sci-fi and rom-coms; he loved watching the Transporter beating guys into a pulp for 95 percent of the movie. We just couldn’t agree on the simplest of things, and we fought like a cat and dog from the first day we met until the day we went our separate ways. I didn’t hold a grudge against him, even though he’d broken my heart. It was both our faults to think we could ever work as a couple. But after that experience with a relationship, I had written out love for good. Or I’d thought I had.
A brief glance at the bathroom mirror told me I had achieved the closest I was ever going to get to perfection. My makeup was in place, with no red blotches in sight, the outfit was simple but sexy-ish, and my hair had been successfully tamed into a bun. I was ready.
Except I wasn’t. As soon as the bell rang, my stomach rumbled and I had to rush to the bathroom with the heaves while perfect Gavin waited outside my door.
“Are you okay?” Gavin’s brow wrinkled in worry. It had taken me a good five minutes or more to open the door, and I may have looked a little harassed.
“Sorry, I was in the room and didn’t hear the bell ring.” I hoped I still looked half presentable, because he looked amazing. My throat went dry and I could almost see my eyes bulging like Daffy Duck’s in panic. Not a good look. “You look good.” Did I say that out loud?
Gavin chuckled, his sexy lips curling up in the corner. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Are you ready to go?” He offered me his hand, and I didn’t think twice before taking it in mine. It was warm and soft, big enough to fully envelop mine.
The drive to the park was a blur. I was so aware of his body next to me I couldn’t focus on anything else. Was this what happened when you hadn’t had sex in so long? Or was I just starved for the pure, unadulterated romance I wrote about? It’s a fantasy, woman. Only a fantasy. But the beautiful man next to me defied every “rule” I had set for myself through the years in terms of relationships and the expectations that came with them.
The Jeep stopped abruptly—or it just felt that way to me—at an empty parking lot by Princess Anne Park. I giggled, wondering whether he had picked this park on purpose because of its name. The glint of amusement in his eyes confirmed my suspicions. Well played, Gavin.
“I thought you deserved to enjoy a park named after your namesake.” I had not been named after Princess Anne, or any princess for that matter. My mother, ever so practical, had picked the first name she heard mentioned in the hospital after my birth. Thus, I was named for some stranger who just happened to be wandering the hallways of the maternity ward that fateful day.
I was not going to bust his romantic bubble.
After helping me slide ungracefully out of the car, Gavin walked a few steps ahead of me, periodically looking back as if making sure I was still following him down the steep, beaten-dirt path. Picnic basket in hand, he walked in that slightly unusual way I had noticed before, not quite a limp but a bit awkward and stiff. It was more noticeable now that he was navigating a path made slippery by the loose dirt and pebbles along the downward walkway. I wondered if it was a leftover effect from the accident he had mentioned the other day. Not that it damaged his cool, handsome demeanor in the least. In fact, it made him look sexier in my book. Then again, the man could probably puke in front of me and I would think it hot.
Once at the bottom of the hill, Gavin led us to a clearing among the thick cover of the trees and spread the blanket he had draped over his shoulder on the ground. With a flourish, he motioned for us to sit on top of the bright-colored covering and then set down the basket.
“Hopefully to your liking, princess.” Gavin squinted and grinned as I pretended to study the blanket, my lips pursed and my hand flat on my face. “Well?”
“It could be a little more grandiose.” My final verdict was met with a gasp of mock outrage. “I mean, it wouldn’t hurt if it had a gilded throne, stuffed with downy cushions and all, but I guess it will have to do.”
Gavin waited for me to make myself comfortable on the spread before lowering himself to the ground as well. I noticed that odd stiffness in one leg, as if it was painful for him to bend it suddenly.
“Does it hurt?” I had obviously been away from human contact for far too long. What in heaven’s name possessed me to say that? What if it was something he preferred not to talk about, or brought bad memories? You’re becoming an idiot, woman. But instead of looking confused or upset about the uncouth question, he looked pointedly at his legs, an eyebrow raised into a deep arch. I nodded.
“Only when it rains.” He laughed at his joke and shook his right leg as if to prove it didn’t bother him. “Side effects from my car accident. It does not hurt at all, just doesn’t bend as quickly as I would like.”
Gavin had scooted over to sit beside me, his long legs stretched in front of him as he leaned back on his arms. My glance skittered over to his magnificent biceps, bulging from under the short sleeves of his white T-shirt. They were perfect, not too built up, not puny. Just the right balance between grace and strength. So much more my type than the guys I always wrote about. Maybe Gavin could be my “real man” after all. Inspired by that thought, I studied him closely from under half-closed eyelids. My hero—because in my imagination, he was indeed a hero—was not pretty, with his nicely proportioned face, straight nose, emerald-green eyes, and the sexiest lips I had ever seen. For all sense of purpose, he was handsome but not unrealistically so. All in all, he looked like a somewhat average guy.
Oh my God! He was my real man!
“If you don’t close your mouth, you’re going to end up eating a fly.” I realized with a start that I had been staring at him, agape and starry-eyed. He scooted closer, his left thigh now touching mine and sending tiny frissons of pleasure running through me. “Or I could just close it for you.” My heart jumped in excitement as his voice became a thick whisper. With a subtle twist of his upper body, he leaned toward me. “A totally altruistic action, of course.”
For once, I didn’t want any more talk. I leaned toward him and met him halfway, our lips melding and latching on as if we were both starved for each other. In my romance novels, I always described the guys’ taste as musky and spicy. Gavin’s was none of that. He tasted of sunshine and rain, chocolate and wine, winter days by the fireplace and summers on the sand. My fireman tasted of life and joy. His kiss filled me with an energy I hadn’t felt in years. Was that what hope felt like?
“Much better than a fly.” Had I said that out loud? I must have, because Gavin chuckled quietly against my lips, our foreheads and noses still touching. His hand was resting on my shoulder, its warmth burning pleasantly through the thin cotton of my T-shirt. I yearned to touch him, but we had known each other for a fairly short time and my romantic track record was far from stellar. Slowly, girl, take it slowly.
“Maybe we should put something else in our mouths for now.” I opened my eyes wide and gasped at my own words. Gavin laughed. “I mean, food. We should put some food in our mouths.”
Still chuckling, he bent forward to open the picnic basket. “I didn’t take you for a dirty mind, Ms. Mathews.”
My cheeks burned in embarrassment, but I laughed along as he took a plastic container and two glasses from the basket. “What do you got there, chef?”
He smiled at me and handed me the container. “Cucumber and watercress sandwiches—I’m watching my waistline.” He chuckled again. “And lobster rolls.”
My mouth dropped open. I absolutely loved lobster. “That’s my favorite.” He winked as if he already knew that. “How did you guess?”
“You mentioned it during our firehouse lunch.” I remembered now. One of the guys had mentioned his love for everything seafood and I told them I had fallen in love with the lobster rolls I had while on vacation in Maine. “We have to put them together, but it’s pretty simple: open the rolls and fill with the lobster meat. You said you like them simple, with no mayo or celery.”
“Just the cooked meat.” I was touched he remembered that. My ex-husband couldn’t even tell what my favorite food was, much less how I liked it prepared. It was rather impressive—and sweet—that Gavin had picked up on that.
We got busy with the food. Gavin poured us some fresh lemonade—“I remember the last time you had wine”—and we sat for hours, talking and laughing the day away. It was strange how easy it was to be with him. I felt no pressure to do anything or be any particular way. I was able to be my quirky, awkward self without fear of being harshly judged by the handsome man beside me. I was having so much fun time ticked away too fast, and the next thing I knew, it was time to go home.
“We’ll have to do this again soon.” Gavin had packed all the dishes and leftovers in the basket, and helped me fold the blanket. “I had a lot of fun.”
When we folded the blanket one last time, our bodies came close together, as if a magnetic force pulled them in. I looked up at his eyes and lost my voice. We stood there, staring in each other’s eyes, hands barely touching as we held the spread, in silence. I could hear my heart beating furiously. Or was that his heart?
“I want to kiss you again,” he finally said softly. “Can I?”
I nodded, incapable of uttering a word as he bent down. Good thing we weren’t home, because I was almost certain I would have pulled on his clothes until they came off. It was too soon for that. I wasn’t ready. His lips lingered on mine, gentle and patient, as if we had all the time in the world. I was the one whose body and heart burned with urgent desire. Shit, I wanted this man.
“The firehouse is having a friendly basketball game against the fifth precinct.” Our lips had parted, and yet I could still taste them. “Do you want to come? Where there are firemen and policemen, there is always lots of food and material for your romances.” Oh my God! He even understood my writer’s mind. “Will you come?”
Of course I would go. A million times over. I would go to the ends of the earth if he asked me.
Gavin smiled and kissed me again. That’s when I saw the supernova.