Chapter 12
Jason
“I cannot believe we had to respond to that,” John mutters. “These people are absurd.”
We’d been dispatched with sirens blazing for a fall at the Hayes Resort. Turns out it wasn’t the elderly patient who fell. It was the old fart’s scotch. His wife and daughter were out shopping, and he felt the broken glass was a safety risk. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had the nerve to ask us to make him a new one.
“Hey, turn that up,” Layton shouts over the sound of a nonemergency EMS call being dispatched as we attempt to grab lunch.
“Is that Quinn on KMAG?” John asks.
“Yeah. I think it’s a replay. This is the morning show.”
We all listen, Layton and John beaming with pride, as Quinn describes all of the events planned for the upcoming Bathtub Party Day festival. Her voice is bubby and engaging. I have to give it to her. Short stuff has grown into a kick-ass businesswoman.
“Quinn is really going for it,” John exclaims from the rear seat. “Man, she’s working her ass off to make the calendars and festival a success, and we have a lot to gain from it.”
“Hell, just getting our reputation fixed would be enough. But to have the increased funds for supplies and a new ladder truck would be phenomenal,” Layton adds.
I have to admit, their conversation, coupled with her enthusiastic stint on the radio, gives me a twinge of guilt about being the only holdout. Not enough, I’d change my mind. There’s no reason a cute Dalmatian couldn’t take the last month of the calendar.
As we walk into Just in Queso, the rich smell of Phoebe Wilson’s taco restaurant has my stomach growling. It’s been a frequent stop for takeout for Dad and me.
“I think we need to get this to go, just in case,” Layton tells the cashier.
“Oh, of course.”
John and I give her our orders right before I hear Layton add, “Oh, and can I pick up the tab for Quinn and her date?”
My head spins to check out all four corners of the restaurant until I spot her. She’s sitting with a guy who appears a few years older than she is. He’s attractive. They’re sitting across from one another, no physical contact between them. Why I’m taking inventory of this fact is a complete mystery to me.
“It’s the least I can do for all she’s doing for us,” he rattles on.
But rather than acknowledge what he’s saying, I blurt before I can stop myself, “Who’s that?”
“Why? You jealous?” Layton jabs.
“No.” I admit I’m more annoyed at her presence with a date than being called out on my behavior.
It’s at this exact moment Quinn looks up, her big gray eyes holding mine before she sucks salsa from the tip of her finger. My dick immediately twitches behind my zipper.
Holy fuck. This isn’t good.