Chapter 14
Fable
“Do you think I’m having a midlife crisis?” I ask Mia as I lean my elbows on the counter and peer around the empty hardware store.
She hums through the phone. “Have you already given yourself bangs?” Her keyboard clacks in the background, and as usual, I’m thoroughly impressed with her ability to multitask.
“Nooo.” I drag the word out, my gaze straying to the old metal scissors in the cup beside the register. What would Tessa do? She already pulls bangs off beautifully. My face is a little rounder than hers, but I’ve never tried. Who knows? Maybe they’d look—
“Don’t touch the scissors,” Mia snaps.
“Fine,” I grumble, dropping my head to my forearm.
She snorts a laugh and stops typing. “You’re required to think about it for ten to twelve business days before you make any drastic hair decisions.” After a short pause, she asks, “This midlife crisis isn’t Theo’s doing, is it?”
Is it? I’ve had five days to process his words. Once you set your mind to something, you’re unstoppable.
It’s not necessarily those words that have me feeling restless. It’s the possibility behind them. It’s the kernel of what if that’s been rattling in the back of my mind ever since. I want to pop it open and see what’s inside.
“I don’t think so,” I admit, my voice muffled against the desk. “Life is . . . a lot right now, and I can’t quite figure out if I’m where I’m supposed to be. Or if I should be pushing for something different.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “What kind of different?”
My sigh is nearly a groan. “I don’t know.
I like my job here. It’s easy, Logan’s great, it doesn’t really involve any stress.
” I stand, restless. “But I can’t help wondering if I’m supposed to be reaching for something more fulfilling.
Or if my true calling is somewhere else—in another town or another state. ”
“You’re unsettled,” she says.
“I’m always unsettled,” I agree, walking down aisle two.
“But I don’t know if that actually means I need to choose to be settled.
Quit looking elsewhere for a feeling of contentment.
Stay still. Live in the moment.” I straighten the front row of spray paint cans.
“Or if I’m supposed to follow that unsettled feeling and reach for something else. I can’t tell.”
A few things clatter around through the phone before her espresso machine whirs to life.
“Maybe it’s like dating. What if you were with a partner who’s pretty nice, but there’s no passion?
Say they know how to load the dishwasher, but when they kiss you, there’s no fire in your heart. Do we settle?”
“No?” I ask, unsure. I’ve never experienced what she’s talking about, so I have no clue if fire in my heart is a good thing.
“Right.”
“So, my job should give me heartburn?”
“Not literally. But it should at least be something that gets you excited. Even stronger than butterflies . . . dragons. We want fire-breathing dragons in your heart, Fabes.”
“Ouch.” I wince.
“You’ll understand when you feel it. You’ll find a career that lights you up, then you’ll come running back to me.” Her voice pitches up in some Valley girl impression that sounds nothing like me. “Oh my god, Mia, you were so totally right!”
I mimic the tone. “Someone, buy me some antacid because this heartburn it’s, like, totally killing me.”
We both laugh as I curve around the end of the aisle and approach the glass windows at the front of the store. My gaze drifts over the street congested with cars, out to the grass, where there seems to be a lot of people milling around. And is that Cathy crouched on the ground with a camera?
Oh. It’s Friday afternoon, which can only mean one thing. I turn toward the firehouse and—
“Holy. Shit.” I nearly drop the phone.
The usual volunteer fire crew is there, but the newest member steals all my attention. Theo’s front and center, doing a move I don’t know the name of, but whatever it’s called . . . it’s . . . well, those biceps are working overtime with the weights in his grip, and I don’t hate the sight of it.
Not even a little bit.
“What?!” Mia gasps.
“It’s, um . . .” I wince, not about to tell her it’s the view of her brother that just knocked the wind out of me.
My brain stops working when Theo pulls his sweat-soaked shirt off and tosses it aside.
Someone in the community park squeals loud enough to make it through the glass.
My eyes are greedy as they trail over his body.
It’s hard to make out every detail from this far away, but my imagination has no trouble filling in the blanks.
Firm abs, bulging pecs, broad shoulders.
It’s already too much, but when he squats and those tree-trunk thighs flex, I’m done for.
Something warm and achy pools in my blood. I think I make a choking sound.
“What’s wrong?” Mia asks.
The only response my brain comes up with is: “Hot.”
Distantly, I hear Mia yammering about how she doesn’t know what I’m saying, but all I can concentrate on is her brother.
He pauses, hands perched on his hips, chest heaving from effort, and my stomach flips over on itself.
I want to climb him like a koala and bury my face in his neck. Sweat be damned.
The sight of Theo from a city block away is getting me more hot and bothered than Philip ever did up close.
This is not normal. I should not be having this many feral and unhinged thoughts about Theo.
Sure, he’s attractive—so irritatingly attractive that it’s hard to pull my eyes away sometimes.
But this is a new level. My hormones must be completely out of control.
I may be unwell. I should check my temperature.
“Want me to get you some binoculars?” asks a voice at my shoulder.
I squeak, whipping around to find Logan, who somehow made it all the way back from the coffee shop without me realizing it. My face bursts into flames.
Without a goodbye, I hang up the phone. “I was checking to see if . . . uh, there was . . .” I scrunch up my face. Damn my brain. “I don’t know.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure you were.” He doesn’t sound like he believes me at all.
I’ve been caught—red-cheeked and guilty. My best defense is to turn this around on him. “I saw you staring out the window when Mabel walked into work today.”
His grin is shameless. “Difference is, I’ll own up to it.”
I’ve tried everything I can think of.
Deep-cleaned the kitchen. Wiped down the baseboards. Swept the front and back porches. Organized my closet by color. Vacuumed the couch. Scrubbed the inside of the fucking washing machine, for crying out loud.
I’m now on my second cup of tea, trying to calm myself from the inside out, and I’m still no closer to smothering the achy, wanting feeling running rampant in my body.
We’re not going to blame Theo for this, because that would make it sound like he’s the reason for it. But did the sight of him outside the fire station exacerbate the problem? Yeah, fine, it did.
Maybe if I get it over with, it’ll be much easier to be around him. I won’t constantly be thinking about him and his that’s really good, all moan-y and deep right in my ear the other night.
“Fine,” I growl, horny and angry about it.
Grabbing my headphones, I practically stomp up the stairs, grateful when no steps break.
I strip out of my work clothes and stand in front of my full-length mirror, surveying my lingerie.
Today it’s pale pink—a lacy see-through bra and matching thong.
I feel sexy as hell in them but slip them off because the thought of getting into my softest pajamas is too good to pass up.
The creamy fabric glides over my body as I slide the tank top over my head and pull the loose shorts up my legs.
I snag my vibrator from the nightstand and tug the headphones over my ears.
They fit snugly, giving me just the right amount of noise-canceling to help me focus.
I sit in the middle of my bed and press the icon for my erotic audio app.
At the top, a banner appears. Today’s new audio: Did someone call the fire department?
“Oh my god,” I blurt, swiping away from it as quickly as humanly possible. Hell no. Absolutely not. I’d rather die.
I settle on a guided session from a narrator I’ve listened to before. It’s firefighter-free, praise the audio erotica gods. As soon as his deep, raspy voice hits my ears, relief loosens my tense muscles.
“Hey, there. Are you alone?” he asks. Chills race over my bare shoulders and arms as he lets out a low, gravelly groan. I set the phone on my nightstand and fall back against the mattress.
“Have you been a good girl?” He hums softly. I squirm, heat already pooling between my thighs. “Yeah, I know you have. You need some relief, don’t you?”
I try to picture him in my head. Maybe he has long black hair, pulled into a bun, and dark blue eyes.
He watches me slide a hand up my shirt. Soft whimpers drift from my lips, but all I can hear is the narrator’s voice in my ears as he guides my movements, telling me exactly how he wants me to touch myself.
My other hand slips inside my shorts, and I glide my fingers through my arousal. All it takes is one gentle touch to have my hips twitching up to seek more pressure. I’m keyed up and agitated and desperate for relief.
I fumble beside me for the vibrator and press the button before sliding it into my shorts. My eyes squeeze shut, and I writhe into my hand as it pulses against my clit.
“You’re doing perfect,” the narrator says.
I imagine him watching my every move.
Black hair, blue eyes.
Black hair, blue eyes.
I repeat it to myself as my body surges with pleasure and my heels dig into the mattress. The wave builds, and I throw my head back.
Black hair, blue eyes.
Brown hair, mocha eyes.
A cry hiccups out of me when Theo appears in my fantasy. He studies me from the foot of the bed, his gaze burning with need.
That’s really good. The words echo through the headphones, but it’s Theo’s voice I hear.
No. No. Please no. I can’t.
“Theo,” I whimper helplessly, unable to stop it from leaving my throat.
Pleasure forges up my spine and through my limbs, pulsing into every nerve ending. It’s so close, it’s right there.
But I cry out, desperate to stop it in its tracks.
I refuse to come with Theo in my head.
With a frustrated moan, I shoot my eyes open at the last minute—
. . . to find that mocha gaze blinking back at me from the end of the bed.
Rage and embarrassment claw their way up my throat. My scream is jagged, and I throw the vibrator with all my remaining strength.
Theo’s lips are parted. He watches it hit his chest, and all I can do is groan, hurling myself to the side in humiliation and anger.
Thud. My head collides with the corner of the nightstand, and I crash to the floor as everything goes dark.