Chapter 7
I walked away from Gisselle's place with my skin thrumming, like the volume on every nerve ending I owned had been turned up.
Her taste lingered on my lips, following me down the empty sidewalk.
What the hell had I done? Kissing her hadn't been a part of any plan, and I always had a plan, yet the moment that truck came speeding around the corner, everything in me shifted.
One minute, I was Lieutenant Crawford, walking a woman home, the way any decent man would do.
The next minute, I held her against me, inhaling the scent of her hair and crossing a line I hadn't even realized I'd been approaching.
Unconsciously, my fingers rose to my mouth, still feeling the pressure of her lips against mine: sweet, warm, and responsive in a way that made my chest tighten at the imprint she'd left on me.
I hadn't navigated this territory in years, and it left me stumbling around like a fool.
I wasn't the type of man who spontaneously kissed on street corners, much less allowed a woman to make my heart race like a four-alarm fire.
I definitely didn't stand on women's doorsteps, fighting the urge to ask if I could come inside.
Yet, there I was, like a lovesick teenager, replaying every second of that kiss in high definition.
The fire station came into view as I walked. The bay doors were open as the night crew on shift performed their duties. As I approached, I straightened my shoulders, pulling Lieutenant Crawford back around me like armor.
"Blaze, I thought you were long gone by now. The cook-off ran late?" Connor asked.
"Something like that," I replied, keeping my answer short.
"Damn, it looks like someone had a good night," Jaxon commented from where he was coiling the hose.
I raised an eyebrow. "I just came to get my truck."
"Chief left some paperwork on your desk about the task force. He said it can wait 'til Monday," Connor noted.
"Thanks. Anything I should know about the shift change?" I questioned.
"All quiet. The usual Saturday night drunk calls are coming in. Nothing serious."
"Cool. I'm out," I replied.
I headed to my truck, opened the door, and slid inside. I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. The streets of Goodwin Grove were mostly quiet now. I stopped at the light and waited. The normalcy of the town felt surreal, compared to what was happening in my head.
What was I doing? Getting involved with anyone right now was asking for trouble.
The arson investigation had ramped up, demanding more of my time and mental energy than I could spare.
I had responsibilities to my crew, this town, and the job.
I couldn't afford distractions, and Gisselle was definitely a distraction.
My phone buzzed in the cup holder, pulling my attention. I glanced down, half-hoping it might be her. Instead, it was a notification from the department scheduling system, reminding me of Monday's shift change. I left it unanswered, refocusing on the road.
At the intersection of Pine and Maple, I glanced down the street leading back to Gisselle's neighborhood. I couldn't lie. I considered driving back to her place, and… what? Knocking on her door and asking if she wanted to pick up where we left off?
I shook my head and continued straight toward my home.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, I'd convinced myself that what happened with Gisselle was a one-time thing, an impulse triggered by adrenaline and proximity.
Nothing more. I'd see her around town, and we'd be friendly, and that would be that.
Goodwin Grove was small, but not so small that we'd constantly run into each other.
Except when I turned off my car, all I could think about was how her number was still in my phone and how easy it would be to send her a message.
I grabbed my phone and keys and stepped out into the night air.
I climbed the stairs to the porch and punched in the code on the keypad at the door, listening for the beep confirming the alarm system had disarmed.
Inside, I dropped my keys on the bookshelf, eying three framed photos: one of my crew after winning the department's annual training competition, another of my mother and sister at Kiara's flight attendant graduation, and the last was Reggie and me in our rookie gear, our arms slung around each other's shoulders. We grinned like we were invincible.
I hung my jacket on the hook and pulled off my boots, leaving them by the door.
"Shower, food, then sleep," I muttered to myself.
I stripped off my shirt as I headed toward the bathroom, dropping it in the hamper.
In the mirror, I examined the jagged scar along my left forearm.
It was raised and darker than the surrounding skin, extending from below my elbow almost to the top of my wrist, a permanent reminder of the warehouse fire that had taken Reggie and left me with more than physical scars. I ran my thumb along the length of it.
The memory flashed — the crash of the beam, and the searing pain, and Reggie's voice calling out before being silenced forever. Then, strangely, it morphed into Gisselle's fingers brushing against the same scar when she'd grabbed my arm as I pulled her to safety.
I shook my head, turning away from the mirror. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Kiara.
Kia:
Heard you judged the chili cook-off today. Call me with the boring details before I die from a lack of brother interaction.
I chuckled, thumbing the call button. Kiara answered on the second ring.
"Thought you forgot how to use a phone," Kia said.
"I called you three days ago," I reminded her, leaning against the bathroom counter.
"No, you texted me saying, 'can't talk, at work.' That doesn't count."
I smiled. "How's ATL treating you?
"Hot, busy, and full of men who think flight attendant means available for dating. The usual. I'll be back by the end of the week. How was the cook-off? Did you scare away the children with your judging face?" Kia laughed.
"What? My judging face is appropriate."
"Your resting face makes babies cry, Li. Don't even try it."
I laughed. Kia always had that effect on me, especially when we were kids.
"Anything interesting happen, or was it the same old chili with different labels?"
I hesitated, my thumb unconsciously finding the scar on my arm again. "I met someone."
The squeal over the phone made me wince and pull it away from my ear. "Wait. What? You actually interacted with a human female? Voluntarily?"
"It's not that big a deal," I scoffed, even as my mind flashed back to the kiss with Gisselle.
"Oh, it absolutely is. What's up? Do you like her?"
"Yeah, she's an architect. Her name is Gisselle, and I kissed her tonight."
There was a long silence at the other end of the phone. I checked whether the call had dropped. "You kissed her on purpose?"
"No, I tripped, and my lips fell on hers," I dryly responded.
"Don't get smart with me, Liam Andre Crawford. I'm making sure I understand the situation. My brother, who hasn't shown interest in a woman since forever, tells me he kissed someone? Yeah, I'm interested. Sho nuff finally got some moves!"
I groaned at the reference. "Do not start. We're not twelve anymore."
"Who's the master?" she shot back, completely ignoring me.
"I'm hanging up now."
"No, you're not. You called me for a reason. Tell me about her."
I sat on the edge of the tub. "I don't know much about Gisselle. She's new to town, and I saved her from a fire a few weeks ago."
"Wait, you kissed a woman you rescued? Isn't that against a firefighter's code?"
"It wasn't like that. She came to the station to thank me, then I ran into her in town and invited her to the chili cook-off. After the cook-off today, I walked her home. I saved her from being hit by a truck, and I kissed her right on the street." I laughed.
"Damn, your dry ass needs some attention. When are you going to see her again?"
"I hadn't thought that far ahead."
"Bullshit. You think everything through six ways to Sunday."
She wasn't wrong. "It's complicated."
"Only because you're making it complicated. Text her tonight. Something simple like 'I had a good time' or 'I would love to see you again.' Then invite her to have coffee, something easy."
"I know how it works, Kia."
"Do you? Because you've been using your job as an excuse to avoid living for years now. Li, it's okay to let someone in."
I stared at the shower curtain. "What if I'm no good for her?" I questioned, revealing more than I intended to.
"That's not for you to decide. Allow her to make her own choice, but you have to give her a chance first."
I was quiet. "I gotta go."
"Yeah, well, I'm proud of you for real. Now, text the woman before you talk yourself out of it." She laughed.
I smiled. "Yes, ma'am."
"Love you, big head."
"Love you too, brat."
I ended the call and turned the knob to run a hot shower.
While the water heated up, I shed my remaining clothing and stepped inside.
Kiara's words rolled around in my head, not to mention the shower didn't wash away thoughts of Gisselle as I hoped.
If anything, the hot water made my skin more sensitive, more aware.
Afterward, I toweled off and pulled on a pair of sweats. I picked up my phone and headed toward my desk, not yet ready to sleep. My mind was all over the place.
My office was situated in the den, just off the living room.
I settled into the chair and powered on my laptop.
I wanted to give my attention to these arson files, but my eyes drifted to my phone.
What was Gisselle doing? Was she thinking about our kiss, too, or had she already dismissed it as a lapse in judgment?
I picked up the phone, then set it down before picking it up again. This was ridiculous. I was a grown ass man. "Fuck it," I muttered, swiping the phone open and pulling up Gisselle's contact. I typed.
Me:
Goodnight, beautiful. Sweet dreams.
I hit send. I closed my laptop and headed toward my bedroom. Would she reply, or would I have to wait until morning to know whether I'd made the right choice?