16. Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Brandy
Nick and I held each other's gaze for a moment before we heard the sound of squeaking plastic. Looking sideways, we saw Cap standing on his hind legs, pulling at the loosened wrap and trying to get closer to one of the boxes.
“Cap.” Nick's tone made it clear the dog needed to stop what he was doing.
Cap looked at the pallet, clearly weighing the consequences if he continued. “Make a smart choice,” Nick warned.
The sigh that came out of Cap started somewhere around his paws and traveled all the way to his nose. He stepped back and sat down with the dignity of a creature making a significant personal sacrifice.
“Good boy.”
“Man, that dog is tall,” I said without thinking. “What made you get a Great Dane?”
“I've always loved big dogs. And his black-and-white markings seemed perfect for a fire department dog.”
We both looked at Cap.
Cap looked behind himself to see who we were looking at.
“Clearly I didn't get him for his smarts.” Nick chuckled.
“Aww, he's a good boy.”
I crouched down and scratched behind Cap's ears.
His head immediately landed in my lap.
“Aren't you a good boy?”
His tail wagged, thumping against the nearby boxes.
“Is this a private party, or can anyone attend?”
Scott approached with the two firefighters I hadn't met yet.
“Brandy, this is Brian Kelly and Mark Giese.” Scott pointed to each man. “Guys, this is Brandy.”
They both greeted me.
“We heard you're planning a Summer Weenie party.” Brian smiled like an eight-year-old saying the word weenie.
“It's Summerween,” I corrected.
“Oh.”
Mark nodded.
“That makes way more sense. My brother's neighborhood celebrates Summerween. Their library started it, and it just took off. We went last year. The kids loved it.”
I beamed. Finally. Someone who not only understood the concept but had actually celebrated it.
“You paid him to say that, didn't you?” Nick glared at me.
“I did not.” I held up a hand.
“Liar.”
“Absolutely not.”
“She didn't,” Mark confirmed. “How could she? We just met.”
“Uh-huh.” Nick looked between us suspiciously.
“It's a good event,” Mark continued. “The kids still talk about how much fun they had.”
“Sure.” Nick looked annoyed by the entire conversation.
I rolled my eyes. “Never mind him. He wouldn't know a good thing if it beat him like a pi?ata.”
“Really?” Nick sighed.
“Really.”
“I like her,” Mark whispered to Brian and Scott.
“We told you,” Scott grinned.
“Lunch is ready. Brandy, this means you too. Come on.” Thompson's voice boomed over the speaker system.
“Yes!” Mark and Brian immediately headed toward the kitchen.
Cap and I followed everyone into the dining room.
The buffet set up on the pass-through looked amazing. Chicken, rice, broccoli, and a salad. Baskets of bread and butter at the end.
“Wow.” I smiled at Thompson. “This smells fantastic.”
He beamed. “Thank you.”
Then he noticed the tiny spoonful of rice I'd put on my plate. “Girl, around here we don't do half portions.”
Before I could protest, he loaded another massive scoop onto my plate. Then came extra chicken. An oversized serving of broccoli. And finally, a bowl of salad. I wanted to point out that broccoli and I were not especially close friends, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings.
I sat beside Scott, who was applying enough butter to his bread to lubricate a small engine.
I remember when I had a metabolism.
About halfway through Story Number Twenty-Seven of Things That Happened On Calls, Scott returned from his second trip through the buffet line.
“Brandy, what's in the new boxes?” he asked around a mouthful of broccoli.
“Candy,” Nick answered before I could.
“The whole thing?”
Brian's eyebrows rose almost as high as Nick's had earlier.
“Yes.”
“Damn.” Mark, Thompson, and Scott all said it together.
“I know where I'm getting dessert,” Scott added.
“Nice try,” Nick said.
“I think that's a great idea.” I raised a finger. “But you have to help me put it away.”
“Done.” Scott and Mark answered instantly.
“After dishes,” Thompson added.
“Yes. After the dishes.” I nodded.
The dishes took approximately eleven minutes because there were six of us and Thompson ran a post-lunch cleanup operation that would have impressed a drill sergeant. Assignments were given. Nobody argued. Everything was washed, dried, and put away. The kitchen was spotless.
I could have used Thompson at my house for the last nineteen years.
True to their word, Scott and Mark followed me back to the bay. Brian and Thompson promised they'd join us shortly.
The candy pallet sat waiting.
Nick informed us he was heading to his office and would be down soon.
Cap came to help because, apparently, helping was one of his official duties.
Scott had the plastic wrap off in under a minute with his ever-present box cutter. He opened the first box, looked inside, and made a sound that could only be described as a moan.
“Chocolate,” he announced. “I love chocolate.”
“Each box contains a different type,” I explained. “The company separates everything automatically.”
Scott looked at me. “I think I love this company.”
“I have no doubt.”
Nick appeared around the side of the pallet.
“We need to put the decorations away first,” I said. “I'm making treat bags, so I'll need the candy inventory before I touch the decorations.”
I opened my clipboard. “I need all the packing slips from the sides of the boxes.” I set the clipboard on top of one of the larger boxes. “Just put them here and I'll check everything tonight.”
I walked over to the nearest pallet. “You two work on that one.” Then I handed a box to Nick. “We'll work on this one.”
We worked like that for thirty minutes, both of us making two trips to the storage room with loaded carts. The whole time Scott provided running commentary. The only time he stopped talking was when Mark asked questions about the event that I answered while Nick made faces.
Thompson and Brian joined us. Together they made a trip to the storage room too.
I had to admit that I liked these guys. They were friendly and funny, never once saying anything derogatory about the amount of boxes or the event.
If only Nick was enthusiastic like them.
Scott and Mark finished the last of the stacking and Scott looked at his watch and made a face.
“Almost time for a shift change,” Mark told him.
“Yeah.” Scott looked at the candy boxes with genuine emotion. “I'm opening the gummies box.”
“Go for it.” I laughed. “Thank you so much for helping me. Tomorrow we'll tackle putting the candy away.”
All of the guys helped themselves to candy, then headed back through the bay toward the kitchen door. Before they left, Mark raised a hand. Scott pointed finger guns at me. Thompson nodded. All of which I returned.
And then, just like that, it was Nick and me in the bay with three empty pallets and one still enormously full of candy. Nick picked up an empty pallet like it weighed nothing. He carried it across the bay and leaned it against the wall.
Damn, those arms.
I forced my attention to Cap when Nick returned and picked up the next pallet.
Cap yawned so wide his whole jaw shook. Then he dropped onto the cool floor with a thump.
“He's got the right idea,” I said, nodding toward him.
“Was it a long day?” Nick asked his dog.
Cap responded by rolling onto his back for a belly rub.
Nick bent down and obliged.
“Thank you for helping,” I said, watching him make the big dog's back paw kick from scratching a particular spot on his chest.
“You're welcome.”
Nick stood and had to quickly maneuver out of the way of a full-body Great Dane stretch.
“How much room is left in the storage room?”
“I'm not sure.”
I headed off to find out, hearing Nick's footsteps behind me. Once inside, we discovered there wasn't much room left at all. In fact, there was so little room left we ended up standing nearly chest to chest.
“I didn't realize it was this full,” I admitted. “Nick, thank you for the storage space. I'm sorry I dumped all of this on you.”
The room was quiet for a moment.
“It's alright. I appreciate you apologizing, even if you did lie.” He winked.
That wink caused something old and ancient in my stomach to awaken. I felt a sensation I hadn't experienced in a very long time. If I remembered it right, it was the feeling of butterflies.
Or, was it gas?
Nick was watching me curiously. “Something wrong?”
“Nope. I'm good.” I nodded. “All good.” Unfortunately, my imagination had taken over and I was instantly thinking all sorts of thoughts about him without his clothes.
The next thing I knew, he pulled me close and kissed me. Not a brief kiss. Nor an accidental one. This was deliberate.
And once I realized what the hell was happening, I kissed him back. My hands slid around his back as his wrapped around me. Our mouths explored each other. His warm lips on mine made my stomach perform gymnastics worthy of the Olympics.
We broke apart long enough to blink twice and stare at each other.
Then I didn't know whether he pulled me back in or I pulled him, but suddenly we were kissing again.
Like we were each other's last meal on death row.
When we finally stopped, I had one hand in his hair and the other on his back.
He had one hand on my shoulder and the other firmly planted on my ass.
Our chests were pressed together. I looked at him. He looked at me.
Say something good, I thought.
Nick beat me to it. He cleared his throat.
“Hank's right. You do have a nice ass.”
I stared at him. “Excuse me?”
He seemed to realize immediately that this was not the correct thing to say. Something crossed his face. Not quite regret, but definitely in the neighborhood. He took a small step back.
I stepped back too.
They talked about me.
The realization landed with the cold clarity of something capable of rearranging an entire situation.
“You two discussed my ass?”
Nick Carson stood there in his department T-shirt, hands at his sides, wearing the expression of a man who had just driven headfirst into a ditch and was now assessing his options.
They're competing, I thought. Seeing who scores first.
I smiled. The smile women used when they deliberately chose the calm voice. The smile that had frightened men for generations.
“I'm waiting for your answer.”
I blinked, still smiling.
“We...” He released a breath. “Not in a bad way. Hank came to my office after the date.”
“And told you he didn't score?” I asked pleasantly.
“I mean, he didn't say that.”
I raised my eyebrows, “And what exactly did he say?”
Nick shifted his weight. “He just said it didn't go well.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
“That's it.”
I stepped around him and opened the storage room door. “And you tell me I lie?”
“What? I'm telling the truth.” I stormed into the bay, grabbed my clipboard, and slammed it shut.
Nick was right behind me. “What's going on?” He put a hand on my arm.
“Remove it.” I looked from his hand to his face.
He immediately let go.
“Thank you.”
I pivoted toward the outside door. Then stopped and faced him.
“What? Did you two have a bet? Hank didn't get anywhere, so now you thought you'd try?” I spun around and continued walking.
“Brandy, wait.” Nick followed me. “Please wait.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“I don't understand why you're mad.”
I kept my voice perfectly even. “Because, Chief, the conversation you told me about between you and Chief McAllister didn't include anything about my ass.” I opened the door.
“Therefore, you aren't telling me the truth about your conversation.” I stepped outside.
“Therefore, this conversation is over.” I looked back at him.
“Have a good evening.” I stormed out into the Denture evening, got into my car and drove away.
Nick was still standing in the doorway.
Good! Stand there! At least now they can both say they watched me walk away. Jackasses.