Chapter Twelve
Samantha’s cheeks ached from the grin on her face, and she would gladly have massaged her jaw if one of her hands weren’t tucked safely in Angel’s grip, and the other wasn’t carrying a wicker basket full of homemade snacks.
“I can’t believe you’ve actually convinced me to come out to the beach at night only to stare at a fire,” said Angel teasingly. “I should’ve expected it when you said it was a surprise.”
They stepped off the tar of the parking lot and onto the soft sand of the beach.
Bolsa Chica State Beach had wide sandy shores stretching along the Pacific Ocean.
It was a favorite in the area for its firepits, and both locals and visitors alike often visited the beach in the evenings.
The first time Samantha had stepped foot on that beach was when she was just a little girl attached to a teddy bear with patches for eyes and a plaster cast wrapped around its wrist. She had visited her grandmother, who decided the bonfire was the perfect place for a sacrifice.
One teddy bear in return for a lifetime of happiness, or so her grandmother had said.
“Am I too obvious?” asked Samantha, as she watched Angel out of the corner of her eye. There was something different about her. It was as if her features were lighter, smoother, not weighed down by the perpetual scowl she seemed to reserve for Samantha only.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who is as obsessed with fire as you,” said Angel.
Samantha stepped down a small dune, her foot digging deep into the sand. She was quickly reminded of yesterday morning when she had tumbled forward like a baby who had just found its legs. But there would be no falling this evening, not with Angel by her side. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”
Angel stopped. A faint line showed on her forehead, as if she was considering the question.
It took her a few seconds to say something, and while Samantha waited patiently for an answer, she glimpsed a man sitting with his legs crossed on a patch of sand, playing the ukulele.
He was singing a rather good rendition of Over The Rainbow while two women appeared to cling to his sing-song voice with love in their eyes.
“Neither. But it’s dangerous. Fire can draw you in like a siren’s song. That’s what my pops always used to say. He would sit me down on his knee and show me a match and say, ‘Angel, if you play with fire, you have to know how to put it out.’”
“Is that how you got into the whole firefighting thing? Your grandfather?” Samantha knew from experience that passion was often prompted by a past experience or even a past life.
Last year, Samantha had undergone a four-hour past life hypnotherapy session with a woman called Marigold Cummings.
She had told her that Samantha had accidentally been burnt at the stake for witchcraft.
‘Accidentally’ was the keyword. Apparently, they had chosen the wrong redhead for execution.
“I like to think so,” said Angel, who surprisingly hadn’t yet dropped Samantha’s hand like a hot potato.
It was a miracle, if not a testament to her growing fondness for her.
When Samantha had slipped her hand into Angel’s earlier at the car, she had expected the firefighter to give it one confused glance and give it back.
Clearly, Angel was beginning to thaw like ice left out in the sun, although Samantha knew the weather could change in an instant.
“My pops was a big part of my life. He was my mom’s dad and after my grandmother died, he moved in with us.
Whenever the sirens went off outside, he used to ask me to identify them.
I guess I kind of liked the sound of the fire truck. ”
“How old were you when your grandmother died?” asked Samantha softly.
She was feeling strangely emotional at the thought of little Angel attending the funeral of her grandmother.
A serious-looking girl with honey blonde hair and sad green eyes wearing a frilly black dress.
She could even imagine little Angel dropping a rose on the casket the same way Samantha had done when she had buried her own grandmother three years ago.
“Eleven. She died from breast cancer,” replied Angel, her gaze fixed on the ocean as if she were reliving a memory.
Waves crashed in the distance. Samantha could hear their rumble and smell the salty sea air.
Only the frothy whiteness of the waves crashing against the shore was visible against the dark sky, and the moon was a waxing crescent, giving more light than the night before.
Not that they needed it. There were bonfires scattered across the beach that were lightening up the sand enough for them both to see where they were going.
“Should we go to that one over there?” Angel pointed to an empty fire ring.
There were two hundred fire pits on Bolsa Chica State Beach, all on a first-come, first-serve basis. Tonight, there were less than half of them in use.
“How about that one?” Samantha pointed in the direction of a small group of people. Two couples, each sitting on either side of a crackling fire, as they stared blissfully at the flames—or into each other’s eyes.
“It’s already occupied,” frowned Angel. “Aren’t we going to make our own bonfire? Isn’t that the point?”
“I didn’t bring any wood. Did you?”
Angel dropped Samantha’s hand and darted her head from left to right as if she were looking for a bag of firewood.
But there wasn’t any. Samantha had zero intention of making her own fire within the rings.
The fun part of the evening wasn’t just canoodling by the fire—although it technically was the best part—but joining another group, briefly meeting new people, even if it was just a hi and a goodbye.
“Is that alright? We don’t have to have long and deep conversations with any of them.
It’s just a bit of silent company,” said Samantha, suddenly uncertain.
It was clear Angel wasn’t on the same page when it came to spontaneously introducing herself to a stranger.
Often times Samantha forgot that other people weren’t as forthcoming as she was.
If the moment allowed it, Samantha could strike up a conversation with just about anyone: the mailman, the man handing out carwash flyers at the stop sign two corners down, the flustered barista at Shift Bakery, who was attending to a line of customers.
“It’s fine,” said Angel stiffly. “I just expected us…” her voice trailed, and her features hardened as if she had taken off one mask only to replace it with another.
“Expected what?”
“Nothing,” said Angel and marched toward the group leaving Samantha baffled as she leaped into a jog to catch up with her.
What had Angel expected? Was there something Samantha was missing? A clue she hadn’t yet noticed. As spontaneous as she was, she was apparently also a little clueless.
As soon as Samantha reached Angel’s side, a man sitting on a flat cushion with his legs long and a woman lying down with her head on his lap, lifted up an arm in welcome.
“Great evening for a bonfire, isn’t it? Are you two looking to join?
We call this the couple’s bonfire. My name’s Mitch and this is my fiancé, Tracy. ”
Tracy sat up and waved. Her long blonde locks fell over her shoulders. She looked like a woman who had walked straight out of Woodstock in the seventies. “You’re both welcome to join.”
“And that over there is Danielle and Jerry.” Mitch pointed to the other couple opposite them. “They’re visiting from Colorado. I keep asking them if they love the beach or the mountains more and their answer is always—”
“Mountains,” sang both Jerry and Danielle together in unison. Jerry, who had jet black hair and ivory skin was leaning back on his outstretched arms, supporting a sitting Danielle.
Samantha introduced herself and then pointed at the firefighter. “And this is Angel.”
The firefighter waved a hand. “And we’re not—”
Samantha knew what Angel was going to say, she knew it from the very moment Mitch had mentioned the couple’s bonfire. But still, sometimes it was worth pretending.
“Not married or engaged,” Samantha interrupted. “Not yet anyway.”
Ignoring the icy side glance Angel shot her way, Samantha walked around the invisible perimeter of the bonfire, finding just the right spot of smooth, unblemished sand, and sat down.
The picnic blanket she had carefully selected earlier today was in the back seat of her car.
Not that it mattered. The sand was as good as any blanket.
Tracy pointed a finger at the flames that looked like they could nearly touch the stars. “Apparently there was supposed to be a fire dancer performing tonight but there were some environmental concerns or something like that. And so of course, it was canceled. A pity, really.”
“Or a blessing,” said Angel as she lowered herself onto the sand. “At least the beach has good safety regulations in place.”
“She’s a firefighter,” explained Samantha, tilting her head in Angel’s direction. “That’s how we met. I set my yard on fire, and she saved my life.
Everyone gasped.
“It wasn’t quite saving your life. You would’ve been fine. We had the fire under control in no time.”
Danielle raised a glass of something dark in the air. “Well, cheers to the two of you. I love that story. My husband and I met like two boring people in high school.”
“It’s not boring to marry your high school sweetheart. And stop cheering people with your soft drink, my love. It’s bad luck.” He gave a sheepish, flat lipped smile. “We’re pregnant. Five months, so still some time to go.”
A chorus of congratulations went around the circle. Even the flames seemed to dance a little higher in celebration.
When the chatter died, everyone’s attention was captured by the mesmerizing, hypnotic flames.
Even Samantha and Angel sat in silence for a few good minutes, watching the flames as they swayed and twirled, fiery dancers pirouetting and leaping in a wayward performance.
It reminded Samantha of fire dancing, of the movements she practiced in her backyard, wild and untamed.
“You know, this is my first bonfire on the beach,” admitted Angel suddenly.
Her hand had just moved to Samantha’s thigh.
It was warm and comforting and a little sensual, especially since she had accidentally slid it closer to her hips.
Her fingers ran down to her inner thigh.
“Don’t think I’ve ever even been to this beach. ”
“Are you serious?” asked Samantha with wide eyes and a slack jaw and the surprised expression of a person who couldn’t believe that someone had gone their whole life without attending a beach bonfire. “Not even when you were a kid?”
“I didn’t grow up at the beach. I only moved here in my mid-twenties. Not that it’s an excuse. I guess I’ve just gotten busy over the last fifteen years of living here.”
It surprised Samantha, not just the fact she wasn’t from Huntington Beach, but that she was bordering on forty, give or take, when she didn’t look a day older than thirty.
“Where did you grow up?”
“In Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Right on the doorstep of the Great Smoky National Park. Spent a lot of time hiking up and down the mountains.”
A knife, albeit a blunt knife, struck Samantha square in the chest. She had heard the name of the town before.
She had even gone to visit the town’s well-known, Dollywood, the theme park owned by none other than the great Dolly Parton herself.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “My ex-girlfriend is from Pigeon Forge. You might know her. She’s the snake that slithers through the neighborhoods after dark. ”
Angel laughed loudly and serenely, so much so that Danielle looked their way and smiled dreamily at them.
“What’s her name? This ex-girlfriend of yours?”
“Veronica Barry,” said Samantha a little guiltily. It was never a good idea to bring up an ex-girlfriend on a second date, or any date for that matter. The past was always best left in the past.
There wasn’t even a glint of recognition on her face, but then again, it was dark and the glow from the fire could easily mask any subtle expressions.
“Haven’t heard of her. But by the sounds of things, that’s probably a good thing. All Veronicas seem to be trouble, aren’t they? Just ask Archie Andrews.”
“Who?” hooted Samantha at the unfamiliar name. As far as she knew, she had never heard of an Archie Andrews.
Angel looked shocked. “You don’t know who Archie is?”
“Is he famous?
“The Archie comics, Sam. Don’t you know them? He’s got red hair, and she wears that letterman jacket 24/7 and he’s constantly in a love triangle with Betty and Veronica.” Her brows scrunched as if she couldn’t believe it. “Well, now I feel incredibly old.”
Samantha laughed softly as she reached up to cup Angel’s chin. With a gentle tilt of her head, she drew Angel closer, their lips meeting as a rush of warm blood flooded through Samantha until she lost herself in the way Angel’s tongue slipped into her mouth and her hands wrapped around her neck.
Suddenly aware that they weren’t alone, Samantha retracted, only slightly, and whispered, “You can tell me all about Archie on our next date.”
Angel smiled. “You might be getting ahead of yourself, Sam. Who says there’s going to be another date?”
“I do.”