From Nowhere (Wildfire #2)

Chapter Three Maren

Chapter Three

Maren

“Reagan wants your phone number. Can I give it to him?” Will, my roommate, asks while I sit at the counter and tear into my Chinese takeout.

“Remind me who Reagan is?”

Will turns off the faucet after the sink is half-filled with soapy dishwater. “The new guy across the street who owns chickens.”

I pause the chopsticks at my lips, lo mein noodles dangling from them while the mixed aroma of garlic and oyster sauce wafts up my nose. “Isn’t he my dad’s age?”

“No. He’s forty-seven. He just hasn’t aged well. What are you? Forty? Forty-one?”

I’m thirty-three, and he knows it. “When I’m done eating, I’m going to shove these chopsticks up your ass, William Landry.”

With his chin down, he smirks and scrubs the frying pan. Will is the stereotypical male firefighter centerfold, tall with thick sandy-blond hair, countable abs, and a strong jaw. Like an ornery child, he has a sparkle in his blue eyes. It’s punctuated with a tiny mole below his left eye. However, he’s hell bent on keeping that ’80s mustache, and he takes tai chi (which our other roommate calls ballet). So he’s sexy with a few footnotes.

“He’s a lot younger than Professor Gray Balls,” Will says, rinsing the pan while shooting me a glance, eyebrows waggling.

Ted Gracey is my dad’s best friend. He owns a lot of the farmland around my parents’ property. Ted’s a semiretired professor of environmental physics. He travels all over the world to conferences. He’s brilliant, sought after, and almost eighty-four. When it’s not fire season, I transport him in his private jet to conferences. He doesn’t have a wife or kids, and his sister died six months ago, so Will and our other roommate, Fitz, think I’m going to inherit everything when he dies.

I’m not.

“You know what would be funny?” I point my chopsticks at Will. “If he did leave me everything, I could afford to buy you a woman. Everyone knows the only way someone will stay with you is if it’s their job.”

He scoffs. “That’s harsh. How can you say that?”

“Because no woman wants to be with a guy who would rather play video games than have sex.”

“I have plenty of sex.” He flicks water and suds at me.

I cringe with a scrunched nose while inspecting my food for soap bubbles. “Masturbating to female avatars doesn’t count.”

“When you shit all over my chosen bachelor’s life, do you ever stop to look in the mirror or at your left hand? Where’s your wedding ring? Who keeps you warm at night? Nobody. But I know a guy who owns four chickens who’d love to spoon you until his rooster crows in the morning. Shit!” He smacks his forehead with his fist. “I just flubbed the perfect cock joke.”

“I’m going to kill that cock ,” I grumble.

Will drains the sink. “That makes two of us. It’s a loud son of a bitch.”

“Actually, if you want to know a little secret, I think a mechanic at work is interested in me.”

“Oh? Did he ask you out?”

“No.”

“Did he check out your boobs?”

“Yes, but ...” I point to my shirt.

Will squints before laughing. “Coffee?”

I nod. “I thought he was staring at my boobs, but then he gestured to my shirt. Did I mention this happened after the women’s bathroom was closed, so I had to use the men’s? There was no toilet paper, and I started my period. So Ozzy, this mechanic, fetched me toilet paper and a pad. Nothing embarrassing about that.”

Will shakes with silent laughter, hand fisted at his mouth. “Christ, Maren. How do you get yourself into these situations?”

I roll my eyes.

“And I guarantee he was looking at your boobs. You could have ‘Don’t look at my boobs’ written in blood across your chest, and men would not see anything in their pursuit of finding your nipple outlines.”

“You’re a man. Does that mean you’re always looking for my nips?”

“I found them years ago. I no longer have to look.”

“You’re so funny.”

“So let’s be real for a minute,” he says. “What if this mechanic wasn’t searching for the cherry pebbles? What if it was the coffee stain? And you think he’s interested in you, but maybe he finds you interesting, but only in the way that one cannot turn away from a train wreck.”

“Flame,” I say.

“What?”

“He looked at me like someone who can’t turn away from a fire, watching the flames. I’m hot.”

“Indeed. Nothing gets a guy horny quite like fetching toilet paper and a maxi pad for a stranger in the men’s bathroom.” Will puts his clean dishes away.

“Why must you rain on my parade? Can’t you just lie to me like a real friend?”

Will chuckles. “Sure. This Ozzy guy’s probably at home right now, jerking off to the vision of your jeans wadded up at your ankles in the men’s bathroom stall while you beg him for a maxi pad.”

I snort, covering my mouth. “You’re right. Did you say my future husband’s name is Reagan?”

Will winks and clicks his tongue twice. “Attagirl. Once you lower your standards, the world is your oyster.”

On my way to the airport to fly Ted to Chicago (my last flight with him until the end of this upcoming fire season), I pass a guy on a bike. But not just any guy. It’s Ozzy in the rain. I pull my RAV4 to the side of the road and step out when it’s safe.

He stops his fat-tire bike a few feet from the back of my dirty black RAV.

“Get in,” I say, holding the hood of my rain jacket to keep it from blowing off my head. “I’ll collapse my back seats so your bike can go in the back.”

“I’m good, but thanks.” He squints against the rain.

I chuckle. “It’s no big deal. Really, get in.”

“I can’t.” He licks the water from his lips.

“Why not?”

“I made a promise.”

“Like a fitness goal? Or a promise to the environment?” I shake my head. “Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business. Just be careful. It’s dangerous when the roads are wet, and drivers can’t see you.”

“I appreciate the offer.” Ozzy smiles with rivulets of water sticking to his short-trimmed beard, a few shades darker than his chestnut hair, which was a thick, chaotic mess the day I met him. He probably can’t wear a helmet and give a shit about his hair.

After a final nod and smile, I hop back into my vehicle and continue along the road. Cielo Aviation is next to the airport, so I pull into the parking lot and wait.

Ten minutes later, Ozzy arrives. Since I’m pulled right next to the back entrance, I know he sees me, so I climb out of my RAV and run under the red awning, catching him right before he scans his ID card to enter the building.

“Hey,” I say with a smile, immediately losing my nerve. I want to ask him out. “How old is your daughter?”

Ozzy lights up, white teeth peeking through his full lips. “Lola’s ten.”

“Lola is a great name.” I squint when the wind blows rain in our direction.

Ozzy glances around. “You coming inside?”

“No, I’m headed to the airport. I’m flying someone to Chicago today. It’s my offseason job that’s coming to an end after this trip.”

Ozzy nods slowly while eyeing me with an unreadable expression. “Did you just want to know my daughter’s age?”

Flirting is my thing. I know how to do it and get men to ask me out, except with this man. With Ozzy, I’m a word-fumbling fool. “I was also going to ask what grade she’s in.”

His lips bend into a smirk. “Fourth. Too smart for her own good.”

I nod several times. “My brother, Brandon, was smart like that. He never had to study. When our mom would make him help me with my schoolwork, all he did was sigh heavily because he didn’t understand why I didn’t get everything the first time. He would have been an awful teacher.” I scrape my teeth along my bottom lip several times. “I rarely talk about my brother, but it felt good to tell you that.”

Again, Ozzy surveys our rainy surroundings with his deep-brown eyes just as another employee runs under the awning. He gives Ozzy a quick “Hey” and swipes his ID card to enter the building.

Ozzy grabs the door to keep it from shutting and props it open with his back while unzipping his jacket.

I stare at his fitted black T-shirt and admire his broad, defined chest. “How would you feel about going out sometime?” My heart races. Did I really just ask him out while ogling him?

Ozzy’s lips twist. “Can I get back to you on that?”

What am I supposed to say? No. He needs to give me an answer right now.

“Sure.” I smile. “No pressure. It’s okay to say no. Maybe you’re not dating yet.” I narrow my eyes. “Or you might not want to go out with me. I’m clearly a hot mess. And by hot, I don’t mean I think I’m hot. I mean ...” I press my lips together and close my eyes. “I’m going to shut up now. Just forget I asked. I should get to the airport.”

By the time I open my eyes, his grin has doubled.

“I’ll get back to you after I consider your offer and decide if you are, in fact, too hot for me. Which, I can already say, you are,” he says.

Oh my god. He’s flirting with me. Will was wrong. I didn’t blow things with what will forever be called The Period Fiasco.

Ozzy fishes his phone out of the inside pocket of his rain jacket. “What’s your number?”

“Five. One. Nine ...” I spew my number without sounding too desperate.

He slides his phone back into his pocket. “Have a safe flight.”

“Thanks,” I say with no control over my grin. “I hope you call me.”

For the record, I have never said those five words aloud.

Ozzy’s smile is all kinds of sexy. “I hope so too.”

I chuckle, shaking my head and returning to my vehicle while butterflies swirl in my tummy. By the time I fasten my seat belt, Ozzy is inside the building. Before I start the engine, my phone pings with a text.

Ozzy: Cedar’s at seven this Friday?

“Now you’re just toying with me,” I mumble with a laugh.