From Nowhere (Wildfire #2)

Chapter Nine Maren

Chapter Nine

Maren

I’m a fraud, and I blame Ozzy Laster.

It’s been three days since I talked with him. I start my ten-day shift tomorrow. Could I text him? Sure, but I want him to make the next move so that I know it’s not one sided. Yet here I am, driving to Cielo with a plate of homemade cookies. Jamie is an excellent baker and an even better friend. She said popping into a guy’s workplace with cookies is always a win.

“Hey, Maren,” Hillary says. “What brings you in today?”

“You know, I got to thinking about the form I filled out for the insurance update, and I think I forgot to sign it. So I decided to pop in and check, and I thought I’d bring some cookies to leave in the break room.”

“You bake?” Hillary narrows her brown eyes.

No. I don’t bake. And I know I signed my insurance-update form. Again, I’m a fraud, and I blame Ozzy.

I shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Wow. Well, I’m sure everyone will scarf down those cookies, but there was no need to stop by, because you signed the form. I always check for signatures.”

“Phew. Now I feel silly. I should have just called. I’ll set these in the break room and finish running errands.” I have no errands. Getting Ozzy’s attention is my only plan for today.

“Better let me steal one before you take off with them.” She winks.

“Of course.” I fold back the plastic wrap so she can grab a cookie.

“These smell amazing. I love a classic chocolate chip cookie.” She takes a bite, and her eyes roll back in her head. “You have to give me your recipe.”

“I’ll do that.”

Hillary narrows her eyes and slowly chews another bite. “There’s something extra. It’s so good, but I can’t quite place the taste. What is it?”

“It’s a secret ingredient.”

“If you’re giving me the recipe, you can just tell me.” She chuckles.

That’s such a good point.

“It’s the vanilla.” I smile.

“Really? I think vanilla is standard in chocolate chip cookies.”

She could be right. I need to make more things from scratch.

Her eyes widen. “Let me guess. Do you use vanilla straight from the bean instead of an extract?”

Retreating toward the door, I tap the tip of my nose. “Bingo.”

“Thanks, Maren.”

“You’re welcome.”

Before reaching the break room, I peek into the hangar to see if I can spot my favorite single dad. When I come up empty, I turn. “Oof!”

Plunk!

Taylor cringes at the eight cookies scattered at our feet. His cringe intensifies when he sees the one stuck to my pink blouse. Finally, he eyes the two still protected by the plastic on one side and the plate on the other. “Shit, Maren. I’m so sorry. I was looking at my phone and—”

“No biggie. I turned too quickly and—”

Ozzy steps around the corner, zipping his coveralls. He smiles at me, but it fades when he sees the mess on my blouse and all over the floor.

Taylor squats and picks up the cookies. “Were these for us? I’m such an oaf, Maren. God. I’m sorry.”

“They were for Ozzy’s daughter. I think I got her in trouble the other day.” I change my story on the fly. Hopefully, no one will ask Hillary to corroborate it.

Ozzy’s gaze slides from Taylor’s quick cleanup to my shirt. “You made Lola cookies?”

“I did.”

“What can I do to make this right?” Taylor stares at the cookies. “I’ll put them in the break room. I think there’s a three-second rule, right?”

Ozzy smirks at me.

I tear my gaze from him and smile at Taylor. “Go for it. And don’t worry about it. I have more at home.”

Well, Jamie does, unless Fitz already inhaled them.

“Uh ...” Taylor nods to my shirt.

I peel the gooey cookie from it. “Really, it will wash off,” I assure him.

Taylor shakes his head. “Sorry, Maren,” he mumbles, heading toward the break room.

“As a rule, I refuse to have anything go right around you,” I say, giving Ozzy a toothy grin.

“Maybe I’m just bad luck.” He easily encircles my wrist with his big calloused hand.

With a silent gasp, I part my lips. I’ve been daydreaming about his touch—conscious, well-thought-out daydreams.

He lifts my hand and takes a bite of the cookie. “Damn, Maren. That’s a good cookie. A badass pilot and a baker.”

I’ll correct him later, when I’m not wearing chocolate or burning up from his touch. I open my hand to let him take the rest of the cookie. He releases my wrist and snags it, popping the other half into his mouth.

Lucky cookie.

“I should take off my shirt,” I murmur.

He licks the chocolate from his lips, eyes flared.

“What I mean”—I clear my throat—“is I should get home and stain treat this shirt. That sounded like I wanted to flash you.”

“Do you?” He lifts a serious eyebrow.

“Flashing feels like a third-date thing. We’ve only had one date,” I say with a nervous laugh.

And you need to ask me for a second date!

“The cookies were a kind gesture. Lola would have loved them, but don’t worry about her. I took her for pizza and let her get dessert. And Sunday, she had a softball game in the afternoon, which ended with ice cream.”

“Such a good dad.”

He smiles. “I was thinking about stopping by your house on my way home, if I got out of here on time. But now you’re here, so I don’t have to worry about interrupting your evening plans.”

I think he’s just saying that to be polite since I brought cookies. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “But it’s true.”

I nod slowly. “Okay. Sure.” I glance down at my shirt. “Well, I’d better sneak into the restroom to clean up a little before I finish my errands.”

“I’ll see you around,” he says, opening the door to the hangar.

“Yeah, see you around.” I hide my dashed hopes behind a smile before sulking toward the restroom.

After doing a little damage control to my stained shirt, I head to my car, replaying my conversation with Ozzy. He wasn’t going to stop by my house, but the opportunity presented itself to say it and not look like he was ghosting me, so he went for it. I can’t blame him.

As I reach for my door handle, something on my windshield catches my eye. Six yellow flowers are attached to it, with the stems tucked behind the wipers, along with a folded note.

I take the note first.

The arrowleaf balsamroot is part of the sunflower family. The root can be made into a respiratory aid tincture. Hope you love them!

Ozzy x

That part of the note is in blue ink, but there’s a PS in black ink.

PS Thanks for the cookies. What an unexpected surprise. Drive safely.

I glance over my shoulder before turning in a slow circle with the note pressed to my chest. He had to have scribbled a quick PS and run everything out here at record-breaking speed. And while I don’t see him anywhere, I can’t help but wonder if he’s hiding somewhere, watching me.

One by one, I carefully retrieve each flower and scan the area for a final time before climbing into my RAV.

Maren: Be still, my heart

I press send and drive my swooning heart home.

Three days and no fires. I work out at the base, read a thriller book that Fitz recommended, and play cards, idly waiting for the first call.

And when no one’s paying attention to me, I text Ozzy.

Maren: What position does Lola play?

Maren: When is her next game?

Maren: What did you tell her about me?

It takes him a while to respond because his job involves steady work.

Ozzy: Pitcher. Tomorrow. Not much.

I chuckle at his thorough reply.

Maren: A man of few words. I respect that level of minimalism

Ozzy: Twiddling your thumbs?

I laugh.

Maren: Boredom is half the job. An existential threat to my profession. Are you on a break?

Ozzy: No. My phone kept vibrating in the pocket of my coveralls, tickling my balls until I felt the need to take a piss.

Covering my mouth, I suppress a snort.

Maren: My apologies

Ozzy: None needed. What’s happening to the 2 fires at Flathead?

Maren: Letting them burn

Ozzy: Don’t get a thumb cramp. I have to go back to work

Maren: Haha! Bye

That’s the last I hear from him for the next week. And maybe it’s because he heard that I’ve been sent to Nevada for two days and back to Missoula for more thumb twiddling until I end my ten-day stint with a fire near Flathead that they don’t let burn. I’m grateful for the distraction. Fending off boredom at the bases or playing games on the tarmac leaves too much time to obsess over Ozzy.

On the first of my five days off, I let Will talk me into yard work.

“Spill,” Will says while we prune the front yard shrubs on this breezy Saturday morning.

“You’ll have to elaborate.” I cast a glance in his direction.

“Jamie said you’ve found a new guy. She baked him cookies—don’t get me started on that bait and switch tactic—and I heard he hasn’t called.”

“Sounds like Jamie spilled everything. What more can I tell you? That about covers it.”

“Since when have you gotten so hung up on a guy to the point of pretending you can bake?”

“I can bake,” I say in a high-pitched voice while flicking a twig at him.

Will chuckles. “I mean from scratch.”

“I can bake from scratch. I just don’t do it very often. For your information, there are many things I am very capable of doing that I simply choose not to do, or I choose an easier alternative.”

“That’s your problem. You must not have shown your full capabilities on the first date, and now he’s uninspired by the bar you’ve set so low for yourself,” Will says, as if he wants me to physically hurt him.

“What’s that supposed to—” I squint at him. “Is that a sexual reference? You had better not be implying that I was bad in bed, therefore he doesn’t want another date. Because I didn’t sleep with him. I don’t do that on the first date.”

Will shoots me the hairy eyeball, but I keep my gaze aimed at the shrub.

“I rarely do that on the first date. My point is that even if I would have been willing to do it, he didn’t want it to happen because he has a daughter, and he said he wanted to take things slow.” I roll my eyes. “Why must you be such a perv, William Landry?”

“I’m just trying to help by figuring out where you went wrong.” He nods to the paper yard bag, and I hold it open for him to stuff the trimmings into.

“It’s rich that my single roommate is advising me on keeping a guy interested. Maybe I should talk to Fitz when he’s done banging Jamie.”

Will laughs. “Goddamn. They’re always having sex. I’m all for making up for lost time, but I have legitimate concerns that he will snap her in half.”

I giggle until I can’t hold the bag open anymore. When I’ve caught my breath, I sigh and mumble, “I want that.”

Will eyes me.

“You know what I mean,” I say.

After a beat, he nods. “Yeah, it sucks feeling like everyone you know is married and having kids.”

I shake the bag to make more room, and when I glance up at Will, he’s examining me with a fixed stare. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That look isn’t nothing. Spill. ” I use his word.

“Let’s do that thing.” He continues to stuff yard waste into the bag.

“What thing?”

“The single-roommates-handshake contract.”

“I’m lost, Will.”

“If both of us are still single in, say ... two years, we marry each other.”

I scan his face, looking for a hint of amusement. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs. “Sure. Why not? I’m good looking, and you’re decent. We understand each other’s careers and the risks that come with them. I mean, before long, it will just be the two of us living here until I find new roommates. It will basically feel like we’re married anyway, minus the sex.”

I survey the yard, tugging off my gloves. “I’ve been thinking about getting my own place.” When my attention returns to Will, I wrinkle my nose. “We know I haven’t been living here out of financial necessity. I just don’t like living alone; this place makes me feel close to Brandon. But when I invited Ozzy, the guy who’s ghosting me, over to the house, I realized how rare it is to have that opportunity. I have to find a night when my other roommates are gone.”

“Go to his place instead,” Will says.

“He has a daughter, and his deceased wife’s parents live with him.”

Will narrows his eyes and tilts his head.

“It’s complicated and beside the point. I don’t know if I’ll have a second date with him, but it got me thinking about my life, age, and financial situation. Then Fitz and Jamie’s announcement that they’re looking for a house nudged me further into realizing I need to grow up. I’m not a young woman anymore. And this house is paid for. You don’t need us here either.”

Will rests a hand on his hip and momentarily gazes at the sky. “Without roommates, women will expect me to bring them here, and I can’t sneak out of my own house at four in the morning.”

I cough a laugh. “You are terrible. And you’re going to die a bachelor.”

He squints in my direction. “Not if you marry me.”

“Yeah, about that ... it would feel like marrying my brother, if he were still here. The ick factor is too big to overcome.”

Will frowns.

Tapping my finger on my chin, I narrow my eyes. “Back before Fitz and Jamie got engaged, wasn’t that doctor interested in you?”

Will quickly busies himself with picking up the trimming tools while he mumbles, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do. What’s her name? She’s the prodigy. You know, the one who became a doctor before she could legally drink? And I’m pretty sure she credited you with taking her virginity.”

“Everleigh was in medical school before she turned eighteen. How the fuck was I supposed to know?”

I cover my mouth and giggle while Will’s face reddens with frustration. “ Everleigh. So you do remember her. That’s a great name, by the way. Oh, Reichart. That’s her name. Dr. Everleigh Reichart.”

“We’ll do the backyard tomorrow,” he says, changing the subject.

I roll the top of the yard bag. “I wonder if she’s still single. I bet Jamie would know. I’ll ask her for you.”

“Speaking of ick factors.” Will inspects me through slitted eyes, but it only makes me laugh harder, so he stomps toward the garage, mumbling a few expletives.