Chapter Two
“I can’t believe you set your backyard on fire,” laughed Matty as he plopped down on a leather sofa. He slowly stretched his arms above his head and leaned on the soft flesh of his biceps.
From where Samantha was sitting, her body was turned so that her elbows were on the backrest of Matty’s sofa looking out through his window.
From his living room, she could see her backyard and the charred remains of what once was a very lovely yard.
Her grandmother would’ve had a heart attack if she was still alive.
It was her house before Samantha had inherited it, and she was probably looking down from above with her knobby finger pointing accusingly at Samantha.
‘How dare you ruin my garden! What about my primrose? My beautiful narcissus.’
If only she knew Samantha had taken out all of the flowers last year after she had managed to kill them for three years in a row. Clearly, her thumb wasn’t green but rather red and lethal like her hair.
“I know. I kind of lost concentration on that last toss and it just dropped to the grass. I didn’t think it would light up so quickly.”
“It hasn’t rained in ages,” pointed out Matty. “Besides, I always thought you wet the grass before you practiced your fire dancing.”
“I forgot. I only remembered I had a garden hose when the flames were too big to put them out by myself and then I only just managed to wet my deck instead.”
He raised a single eyebrow. Matty had very thick, very bushy eyebrows, and like always, his sandy blonde hair was disheveled but in that hunky way that swooned the ladies.
When he had first moved in next door, Matty had tried to chat up Samantha, who had enjoyed the flirtations almost as much as she had enjoyed the look on his face when she finally admitted that she wasn’t into men.
“Next time, you’re going to get yourself killed, Sam. Or me. And not to mention Mr. Harrison is probably going to file some sort of complaint against you and get you evicted.”
Her heartbeat quickened, and she tasted a hint of smoke on her tongue. “Do you really think so?”
“Of course not, silly. He can’t evict you out of your own house.”
Grabbing the closest cushion, a navy blue one without a single pattern, she tossed it at Matty, who caught it easily. “Why do you always have to be so mean?”
“Because I care about you. Beer?” he asked as he pushed his weight forward and grunted when he stood up. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt. His shoulders were broad and muscled, and his skin was tanned from all the surfing.
Samantha was glad to have him as her friend, even if his way of showing that he cared about her was constant jabs, mostly playful. Some were a little sharper than others, and every so often they would butt heads.
When Matty got back, he handed Samantha a beer even though she hadn’t asked for one and sat down on his chair.
He rested his bare feet on his coffee table.
Another plain addition to his plain-looking house.
Unlike Samantha’s house, which had sage green walls and rust orange cushions and paintings on the walls, Matty’s house looked like the epitome of a bachelor pad.
Dark sofas and dark cushions so as not to show the stains.
No photos and no art on the walls. There was a single withering plant sitting on the dining room table with mismatched chairs.
“So maybe you should just give the fire dancing a rest. Maybe it would be best to take a break and start again when your grass has grown back.”
“Nope,” said Samantha, who wasn’t prepared to give up her favorite hobby just because of a little fire. “I’m getting better. Just the other day, I nailed the ‘Helicopter Spin’ with my fire staff. You should’ve seen it, Matty. The flames were dancing around me. It was amazing.”
He tilted his head sideways and studied her for a second. “I wonder if your hair wasn’t so bright red if you’d still have an obsession with fire.”
“I don’t have an obsession with fire,” stated Samantha at the same time a memory slid into her head.
It was a lovely memory of earlier when the firefighter with the mesmerizing green eyes had looked at her as if she was some sort of arsonist, a person with an impulse control disorder and a compulsion to set fires.
When Samantha had first caught sight of her, it had felt as though an angel had emerged from a haze of smoky plumes, descending from the heavens to rescue her.
A real-life guardian angel, which was ironic since her name was actually Angel.
She had heard one of the other firefighters shouting the name and had thought it was extremely fitting.
An angel had saved Samantha earlier today, and she was extremely grateful.
“I just like the art of fire dancing. It’s beautiful and can often be extremely sensual.”
“Sensual?” he asked as he lifted the beer to his lips and gulped down a sip.
“Yes, sensual,” replied Samantha matter-of-factly. “It’s something about the way the flames move, the heat against your skin, the primal energy it evokes. It’s like dancing with a living breathing element, feeling its power and intensity coursing through you.”
Matty gave her a good hard look and shook his head. “You’re crazy, Sam.”
“And you’ve got no idea how to embrace the art of sensualism. No wonder you’re single.”
“Well, you’re single too,” said Matty as he laughed deeply, even tilting his head back, showing his prominent Adam’s apple.
That one stung a little harder, even though it was barely even a jab.
It was more of an observation. Her last relationship was almost a year ago, and when Veronica had packed her bags, she hadn’t just taken the mushroom-shaped lamp they had bought together at a thrift shop, but also a piece of Samantha’s heart.
For a moment, while Matty was gulping down the remainder of his beer, she wondered if Angel was single, or if she was even into women.
“I want to ask the firefighter out.”
Twin furrows took up Matty’s forehead. “Firefighter? I thought you were gay, Samantha. If you’re suddenly into men, well then why not give me a try?” He smacked both palms against his chest as if he was King Kong.
“A woman firefighter, Matty,” said Samantha, giving him a blank look. “This is the twenty-first century; women can do all the things men do. Anyway, she is gorgeous. Like smoking hot—excuse the pun.”
It was true. When Angel had removed her helmet, her blonde hair toppling to her shoulders, Samantha’s breath had hitched in her throat and had made her cough.
And when she had turned to her, with a slight frown on her face and Samantha had noticed her green eyes, so pale they could be mistaken for blue, and those cupid bow lips that probably knew a thing or two about good kissing, and her lovely sharp cheekbones that accentuated her diamond shaped face, she could feel the heat between her legs.
She had even imagined the strength beneath the suit and had regretted not feigning the urge to faint.
“Well, why don’t you ask her out?” offered Matty, a good comeback after his very mediocre reply.
She shook her head from side to side. “I haven’t asked a woman out in years.”
“What about Veronica?”
Just the mention of her name sent icy stabs of pain along Samantha’s shoulders.
Most times she could easily stuff the memories of their relationship, both the good and the bad and the ugly, to the very back of her mind, but today she was having a much harder time.
Even a deep breath in, forcing the oxygen to reach every single cell in her body, didn’t seem to work.
Maybe that was the reason for her clumsiness this morning.
Maybe she had remembered that this time last year, Samantha had found Veronica in their bed with another woman—a busty brunette who frequented the same coffee shop they had gone to every morning before work.
Back then it had seemed so silly, so frivolous when Veronica had started to spend more time at the coffee shop.
Samantha hadn’t thought much about it at the time.
They were both freelance workers. Veronica dabbled in graphic design, and Samantha was a content writer.
“We met on a dating app,” said Samantha icily. A sudden bad taste settled in her mouth, a bitterness she couldn’t swallow down no matter how much she tried. If she never heard her name again, it would be too much. “That’s why I won’t ever use a dating app again.”
Looking somewhat regretful for bringing up Samantha’s ex, Matty quickly said, “Well, I usually just meet girls at the beach. I can give you a few tips if you’d like.”
Samantha untangled her arms and legs and scooted forward to the edge of the sofa.
“A few tips would be great. Should I get a piece of paper and a pen?” She was just about to stand up and search the drawers of the large oak cabinet in the dining room where he kept everything miscellaneous when Matty laid a hand down on her knee.
“Calm down, Sam. They’re easy to remember.”
“Fine,” she relented and leaned against the side rest, crossing one leg over the other in a way that meant business. She needed all the help she could get. Especially if she wanted Angel to say yes without even a second of hesitation.
“So, first, and I think this is the most important, you have to be approachable… and I think you’ve got that one nailed down. You’re definitely very easy to talk to.”
Samantha beamed. A compliment from Matty was like receiving a warm hug on a cold winter’s day. “Great. What’s the next tip?”
“You have to tone down your crazy.” He lifted his hand and flattened it like a board so that it was parallel to the wooden floor.
“I need you here.” He lowered his hand a few inches.
“And not up here. Sometimes women like to know that you’ve got a handle on things.
You won’t just spontaneously combust when you get too excited or too upset. Try to get to neutral, Sam.”
Deflated, Samantha slumped back and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She was everything but neutral. Her emotions came in highs and lows—mostly highs—and her spontaneity and lust for adventure was often too much for a woman to handle. Just ask Veronica.
Matty rose up and grabbed the empty beer can. “Want another?”
She shook her head as her full beer can still sat on the small side table next to the sofa.
Maybe she should just forget all about Angel, the firefighter who rescued her from the flames of her own mistake.
Maybe Angel was actually as straight as an arrow and would let her down gently—although Samantha had a feeling that she wasn’t.
There was something about Angel that activated Samantha’s intuition, a silent whisper that said that Angel was most certainly into women.
It was only when Matty got back, settling into the sofa, looking extremely at ease with his single status that Samantha decided that she wanted to venture back into the world of dating. And who better to do that with than the angel that had saved her?
“So, what if I can tone it down? How do you think I can go about finding her? You know, how can I meet up with her long enough to ask her out? I was thinking of heading to the fire station, maybe with a plate of brownies to say thank you.”
“Well, either you can come off as sweet and thankful… or as a stalker. It depends on how this firefighter woman interprets it.”
She pressed her lips thin. “Sounds too risky. Any other ideas?”
“You could always set another fire?” joked Matty with a low chuckle. But when Samantha’s face brightened like the morning sun over the horizon, as if the idea might actually be a very good idea, he lunged forward and grabbed hold of her ankle, shaking it. “Don’t you dare even think about it, Sam.”
“I’m not,” she laughed. “I promise, I’m not.” But she was considering it.
Just a tiny little flame.