11. Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Nick
I was reviewing the quarterly equipment inspection report when I heard Cap's nails on the hallway floor. The specific pattern that meant he was following someone at their pace and not his normal one.
A moment later, Hank filled my doorway.
He crossed my office, dropped into the chair across from my desk. A giant grin spread across his face, which meant one of two things: Hank had good news he wanted to gloat about, or Hank had heard some juicy gossip and he couldn't wait to fill me in.
The thing with Hank was when he knew something, he'd sit there grinning like the Cheshire Cat, waiting for you to ask about it, and until you did, he was going to enjoy every second of the wait.
Oh, we're going to play this game.
I looked at him and looked back at my report.
“Something you need?” I said without looking up.
“Nope.”
I turned a page.
“Something you want?” Again, without giving him the satisfaction of looking at his cheesy-ass grin.
“Nope, I got what I wanted.”
I looked up from the report.
“Fine, I'll bite. What the hell are you talking about?”
Hank leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Asked our new community ambassador to dinner Saturday night.”
I took that second to be grateful I had a damn good poker face so he didn’t see the shock I was feeling.
“Yes, sir, Pins and Grins on Saturday night,” he said.
“I heard.”
Hank, however, didn’t have a good poker face, and I saw the shock flicker across his face. It only lasted a second. He hadn't expected that.
Score one for me.
“Of course people are talking about me, and why not? I’m gossip-worthy.” He settled back, his hand resting on Cap's head. “Just out of curiosity, how did you hear about it?”
“You told the department, Hank. Shit, you might as well have had a guy with a loudspeaker drive around town announcing it. That would have been ten times more subtle.”
“That loudspeaker guy's a good idea. Maybe I’ll look him up next time.” He shrugged, completely unrepentant. “She's got a nice ass.”
I looked at my report. “You would know. You've always been an ass man.”
“Guilty.” He pointed. “Boobs and buns. Never steered me wrong.”
“You know in some circles that kind of talk gets you into sexual harassment training.”
“Probably.” He considered this. “More than likely I'd be in my third or fourth class.”
“At least.”
I turned to another page.
Hank watched me read, or rather pretend to read.
Why would she go out with him?
“I'll let you know how the date goes,” he said pleasantly.
“Gee,” I said. “Thanks.”
He knocked twice on the doorframe on his way out.
Cap lifted his head, watched him go, then looked at me, and I swore my dog rolled his eyes.
“I feel the same.”
I went back to my report. After reading the same paragraph three times, I put it down.
Damn it.
Hank had always done this. For thirty years, he walked through life like a golden retriever rhinoceros who wore a uniform, carried a badge, had muscles, and a way about him.
And no matter what, women seemed to always respond favorably to it.
I had never understood it entirely. Was it the confidence?
The sheer unfiltered magnetism that Hank McAllister brought to every room he entered? His complete absence of self-doubt?
Maybe that was it. Or maybe it was simpler than that.
Because he was one of those alpha males?
I thought for a moment. I didn’t know. I was pretty alpha male too, and you didn't see women fawning over me.
Shoot, in the eleven years of marriage, my ex-wife never fawned over me.
Her favorite phrase was, “You're a big boy, do it yourself.” Which I got, I was a big boy, but sometimes a person just wanted the one they're with to spoil them, just a little. To have the feeling that someone really loved you. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure she ever cared about me.
I believed she liked the idea of me, a firefighter, the uniform, and the size of my life insurance policy.
When I got the chance to transfer to Denture as the assistant chief, she informed me she wasn't going.
That our relationship was over and she wanted a divorce.
She continued, saying that she would be staying put because this is where her lover lived.
It wasn't until a year later, when I was divorced and settled in Denture, that I learned she had been cheating on me with my former chief.
Even after a year, that was a kick in the gut.
Although, I guess I should be grateful she cheated on me. Obviously, the chief wanted me gone, so he put me in for the promotion. I guess that eased his conscience.
Whatever.
All in all, in the end, I think I won. I got an amazing post with a great crew. And I heard through the grapevine that he and she didn’t work out.
I smiled and closed the report folder. “Cap, I think it's time to go home. I feel like going for a run.”
Cap bounded up and responded, “Woof.”
After I took him home and changed, I set out on my route. Four miles, out and back, through the residential streets east of downtown where the houses got older and quieter and the sidewalks had tree roots pushing up through the concrete.
Those were fun. After the third or fourth time you caught your toe on one, you learned to keep your eyes peeled.
I found myself on Clover Street with its established big trees, old houses with porches that, in the spring, became extended living rooms, and yards with kids' bikes lying in the grass. I always enjoyed how each neighborhood in Denture was a source of pride.
Oh shit.
My attention fixated on the little yellow house third from the corner.
It now had flower boxes in the windows that hadn't been there two weeks ago, and a welcome sign shaped like a sunflower mounted next to the front door.
There were lights strung along the porch railing that glowed in the early evening.
Damn, I forgot. Maybe she's not home.
As I got closer, I noticed I was wrong. She was indeed home, and of course she was sitting on the porch. Her hair was on top of her head in a messy samurai-type bun. A pint of ice cream was in one hand and a spoon in the other. She looked up and we made eye contact.
So, not to be rude and not make things more awkward between us, I gave a small wave and stopped.
“Chief Carson.”
“Ms. Wilson.” I caught my breath. “Nice evening.”
“Brandy.”
“Sorry, Brandy.” I put my hand to my chest. “Nick.”
“No Cap?”
“No, he's more of a napper than a runner.” I stretched to my side.
“I knew I loved that dog.” Brandy laughed a delightful laugh. “Would you like a water?” She held up a plastic bottle of water.
“Actually, that would be great.”
I stepped up to the porch to meet her halfway. She was barefoot, with bright blue stretch pants and an oversized pink T-shirt that hung off her shoulder, giving a glimpse of her black bra strap. Afraid my eyes might have lingered on the bra strap, I looked at the water bottle instead.
Our hands overlapped as I took the cool bottle from her. I raised my eyes to hers. We gazed at each other for a second, neither of us moving.
“Thank you.”
Stepping a half step backward, I took the bottle, opened it, and took a large drink.
“You've done a lot with the place,” I said. “Looks good.”
Her face softened as she smiled. “Thank you for noticing. I tried. I've never had a porch before.”
“It's a good porch.”
She gazed at her work. “Thank you. I wanted something inviting.”
I noticed the watering can sitting next to the steps. It was full and looked heavy.
“Why aren't you using the hose?” I said, pointing to the can. “Isn't there a hookup on the side of the house?”
“There is, but the handle thing that turns the water on and off is stuck. I can't get it to budge.”
“The spigot.”
“Yes.” Her eyes lit up and she pointed at me. “Should have known a fireman would know about spigots.”
“We're pretty familiar with how to get our hoses to work.”
I realized what I'd said as soon as I heard it. Instead of saying anything else, I immediately walked over to the side of the house to the spigot.
Brandy had followed me and stood close enough that I was very much aware of her.
I tried to turn the handle. She was right, it didn't budge. Putting some muscle behind it got me the same result.
“Do you have a wrench?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I should probably get one. Maybe a hammer too.”
I eyed her. “Hammers and spigots don't usually mix.”
“I meant for general purposes.”
“Yeah.” I stepped back. “They can be helpful for those.”
“I guess I'll have to go talk to Bill at the hardware store about what I should get now that I have a place of my own.” She paused. “Get myself set up properly.”
“You're getting around,” I said, trying to turn the spigot again.
“Excuse me?”
Brandy's tone told me I said something wrong. I had to take a split second to remember what I might have said.
“I mean, meeting everyone. You're getting around to meet people.”
She gave me a look that told me she was trying to analyze whether that's what I really meant by that statement.
“It's my job,” she said evenly.
“I'm sure it is.”
And there we stood in the side yard of the yellow house on Clover Street in the early evening quiet. I glanced at the sky because at that time it was either that or her. And I wasn't sure I trusted what I would say next, so the sky it was.
Well, this is awkward.
“It's getting dark,” I said. “Better finish my run.”
“Of course.” She stepped back toward the house. “Thanks for stopping.”
I nodded and started back toward the sidewalk.
“Chief. Nick.”
I turned back and faced her.
“Thanks for trying.” She motioned to the spigot. “I'll get a wrench.”
She smiled a lovely smile, but then all her smiles were lovely.
“You're welcome,” I said, taking off back down the road.
I spent the rest of my run playing that situation and conversation over and over in my head.
We know our hoses? I shook my head. And what was with the bottle handoff? I rolled my eyes every time I thought of it. Nice teen-boy moment, staring at her bra strap. God, I'm an idiot.
The next morning I'd woken up and convinced myself this was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
The spigot was stuck; therefore, it needed to be fixed.
And since I was committed to helping people in the community, I had a wrench, and it had been brought to my attention. It should be me who fixed it.
These were the facts I told myself so I could justify my actions as a logical choice, and since I was a logical man, it therefore made sense.
I certainly wasn't going to leave it and allow Bill to fix it. No way. I was sure he would swoop in and, sure as shit, jump all over the chance to come to her house to loosen her.
Not that I wanted to loosen her. That wasn't what this was about. I just wanted to fix it so she could use the hose. And in a way I was protecting her. Bill wouldn't do it as a neighborly good gesture. Oh no. He'd want something else for his efforts. Not me. I was just being nice.
And don't get me started on Hank fixing it. I'd never, ever hear the end of her needing him and his expertise.
Which is why, at six fifteen, I was back at the yellow house on Clover Street with a wrench. I kept my footsteps and my toolbox quiet as I got to work in the early morning sunlight. However, apparently I wasn't quiet enough because the back door opened.
Brandy stepped out into the yard in a worn pink robe and fluffy slippers. Her hair was doing several different things simultaneously, none of which appeared to be intentional. She was blinking, trying to focus on what she was seeing.
Her whole look made me smile, which I coughed to cover up.
She looked at me, then looked at the wrench, and back to me.
Damn it, I thought involuntarily, Hank is going to absolutely love that look.
I pushed that thought directly out of my head and turned back to the spigot.
“I've heard of men leaving in the early morning hours, but not showing up.” Her voice had the sound of someone who had just been woken up and definitely hadn't yet had coffee. “What are you doing here?”
“Fixing your spigot,” I said. “Before work.”
She blinked. “You go to work this early?”
I turned the wrench. “Yes.”
“Why?”
I peered at her and opened my mouth and once again spoke without analyzing what I was saying first.
“Nothing to keep me at home,” I said. “So, I might as well go in.”
The words landed like a load of bricks in the quiet morning air between us.
Brandy said, “Oh.”
It was a small word with a lot of meaning behind it.
Like an alarm clock with the volume turned to max, Cap's voice rang out through the quiet early morning. He'd caught sight of Brandy from the driver's seat of my pickup.
“WOOF, WOOF, WOOF.”
Each one got louder.
“Cap!” I scolded him, but in true Cap fashion, he didn't listen. “Cap, quiet.”
“WOOF, WOOF,” he barked.
Brandy, in her bathrobe and fluffy slippers, marched past me heading straight to the poor distressed creature.
“He doesn't have to always get what he wants,” I called after her. “He's fine.”
Reaching the door, she looked back over her shoulder, giving me a look that told me she one thousand percent disagreed with what I said.
“I'll get you, honey. Did your mean dad leave you all alone? Well, that was rude of him, wasn't it?”
I rolled my eyes.
She opened the door wide enough for Cap to bound out. He jumped and frolicked like a colt in a pasture. She giggled and patted him every time he ran by her as she made her way back to me.
I turned back to the spigot, fitting the wrench in place. I applied pressure and felt the resistance give. I turned the handle and the water came out clean and easy. I did it again with the same result.
“There,” I said. “Fixed.”
“Thank you.” She smiled a giant smile. “Now I don't have to lug that watering can from the kitchen. How did you know how to fix it?”
I held up the wrench. “I own a wrench.”
She laughed, bending over to hug Cap's side. “Well, I greatly appreciate your wrench.” She shot up straight. “I mean, that is, thank you.”
Fighting a smile and losing the battle, I said, “You're welcome. Well, I'm going to head to work.” I nodded at her. “Come on, Cap.” I patted my leg and watched my dog contemplate who he wanted to stay with.
“If you want breakfast, you better come on.”
I took a step toward the pickup.
“Woof!”
Cap bolted past me to the door.
I turned around to face Brandy. “All it takes is food.”
“Works on me.” Her eyes grew huge. “I, I...”
“Have a good day.” I waved at her as I opened the door for Cap to jump in. Once in the pickup, a few houses down the road, I allowed myself to laugh. It was nice to see someone else was as awkward as I was.
Since she didn't mention it, she must have given up on that silly Summerween party.
Thank goodness that's over.