Chapter Fourteen
Samantha’s grandmother once told her that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.
She hadn’t mentioned anything about the way to a woman’s heart, but how different could it be?
Sweet, gooey brownies could melt anyone’s heart, especially with all the effort and care Samantha had put into them.
She had spent the entire morning working away in the kitchen, making sure the brownies were just the right amount of moist. And then she cut them into perfect squares.
“Where are you going with those?” asked a sweet, deep voice.
Samantha, who was busy strapping the Tupperware container into the passenger seat of her car, whipped her head back to see Matty strolling along her driveway.
“And why on earth are you strapping them into your car?”
“To keep them safe. Obviously.” She smacked the car door closed. “And it’s none of your business where I’m taking them.”
“It is when you haven’t shared any with me,” he declared, feigning hurt by pouting.
His bottom lip pushed out and his eyelids fluttered exaggeratedly.
“I’ve been smelling brownies all morning wafting from your house.
My mouth’s been watering for the last hour.
Please say you’ve got some leftovers and you’re feeling generous enough to share them with your favorite neighbor. ”
Samantha wasn’t going to tell him that she had already dished out four brownies just for him and was planning on dropping them off later, after her visit to the fire station. If there was one thing Matty loved more than surfing, it was chocolate. Anything chocolate.
“I’ll think about it,” she teased. “But first I have an errand to run. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“What errand?”
Samantha ignored him and walked over to the driver’s side, sliding into the worn leather seat. Reaching for the handle, the old window let out a familiar, protesting groan as she cranked it down manually and sang out, “I’ll see you later, Matty.”
He grunted something unintelligible and stomped off. Whenever Matty was sulking, he seemed to shed nearly a decade of his age. It was as if he morphed into a grumpy teenage boy, slamming doors and immersing himself in rock music, and rolling his eyes.
Later, Samantha made a mental note to pop over to his house to drop the brownies off. He’d possibly be so ecstatic that he’d offer to help mow her lawn next week—the edges of the charred center were growing fast.
Giving the brownies a quick, excited glance, Samantha turned up the volume and began singing a Miranda Lambert song at the top of her lungs.
The brownies were for Angel. A simple but delicious thank you.
Some dates just deserved an appreciative thank you, especially when it had been magical.
And last night had been as delightful as they come.
The bonfire date had been a steaming success.
But then again, that was the thing about fire.
It had the potential to set the mood by merely existing.
What was more romantic than the hypnotic crackle of flames? It wasn’t just chocolates that flew off the shelves on Valentine’s Day, but candles, too.
Samantha parked the car along the quiet street. In the distance, she could hear the hum of traffic and imagined the rumbling waves crashing onto the beachy shores. The lovely warm sun on her arm through the car window was an added bonus.
Grabbing the Tupperware container, she embraced the slightly sickening feeling of excitement that was like hundreds of butterflies flapping their wings in her stomach and climbed out.
The fire station looked similar to what you’d expect from a television series. A double-story building with a classic red-brick fa?ade and large open garage doors revealing two shiny red fire trucks.
Samantha strolled across the street with the container of brownies held perfectly upright in her grip. But as she neared the building, watching both men and women in blue milling about the place, a sudden wave of doubt hit her like a bucket of cold water.
Was she being too forward by showing up unannounced? Was she crossing a boundary she hadn’t considered up until now just by being there?
Maybe Angel wasn’t into surprise visits, especially at work. Maybe Angel preferred a thank you through a phone call or a text message.
Biting at her bottom lip, Samantha inhaled deeply and debated whether or not to bail, but the thought of Angel’s smile was enough to keep her feet moving forward.
If anyone asked, she was there to drop off a thank you gift. Surely there were many survivors who had done the exact same thing. Just the other day she had dropped off the shortbread biscuits and letter, but that was to the secretary, and she had run back to her car as quickly as she had arrived.
This was different.
This was more personal.
Walking through the open garage door, Samantha pushed back her shoulders and walked confidently into the apparatus bay as if she belonged there—although her mane of red hair prevented her from blending in. She was like a red rose in a field of white roses. The easiest one to spot.
“Can I help you?” asked a man with a smooth round face, jet-black hair, and brown eyes the color of chocolate. He looked no older than thirty, but then again, Samantha was terrible at guessing people’s ages.
“I’m looking for Angel.”
His smile grew into a toothy grin, and he cocked his head over his shoulder and waved forward another man in blue.
“You’re Samantha, right? Angel’s girlfriend?
I’m Frankie, by the way.” He extended a hand.
“This is Mitch. We were both there to put out the fire in your yard. Do you still do any fire dancing?”
“Nice to meet you both.” Samantha shook his hand as well as Mitch’s.
She felt a little wobbly on her feet. Did Frankie seriously just call her Angel’s girlfriend? Had Angel mentioned her to her colleagues?
Samantha gripped the sides of the plastic container tighter and hoped Frankie with the brown eyes couldn’t read minds. All she could think about was that single, powerful word.
Girlfriend
“Sorry about the inconvenience with the fire thing,” she added. “I’m not usually so clumsy. Have you seen Angel, by any chance? I just want to drop something off for her.”
“Is that for her?” Frankie pointed to the Tupperware container in her hands. “You sent the shortbread last time, right? I had some. It was amazing. Perfectly buttery, and crumbly.”
“Um… Thanks.”
He beamed, “So what did you make her this time?”
“Sam,” exclaimed a smooth, velvety voice that could only belong to an angel. But the angel was standing on the second-floor landing, leaning over the railing with a scowl on her perfect face. “What are you doing here?”
It wasn’t the reaction Samantha had expected. Actually, she had expected Angel to welcome her with a beaming smile and a singsong voice that said, ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you. Thanks for last night.’ Clearly, Samantha was living in lala land.
“I came to drop this off. Brownies. It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” said Samantha, and lifted the Tupperware container a few inches upward.
If brownies weren’t the way to her heart, then what was?
Angel’s scowl didn’t fade. Instead, she pointed a finger in Samantha’s direction and instructed, “Wait there. I’ll be down in a second. And for goodness’ sake, Frankie and Mitch, leave her alone. You’ve both got work to do, don’t you?”
They both nodded sheepishly and with apologetic smiles, rushed off, leaving Samantha slightly embarrassed and thoroughly confused. Had she overstepped some invisible boundary? Was Angel going to break things off with her, even though they weren’t officially dating yet?
Samantha was reminded of what Frankie had said earlier. Angel’s girlfriend. Was that a term Angel had used, or was it just an assumption by an overly friendly guy?
It took only a few short moments for Angel to stride briskly across the large open room toward Samantha.
The way she locked her gaze on Samantha was both intimidating and a tad unnerving, as if she was heading into battle.
As soon as Angel reached her, she slipped her arm around Samantha’s shoulders and steered her outside.
Unlike before, the sun wasn’t warm and lovely, but rather cruel and accusatory. Suddenly, it felt as if it was laughing at her, teasing her for assuming she would be welcomed at the fire station with open arms.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Angel, her gaze darting back and forth toward the station. A hint of frustration was in her voice. “Why didn’t you call or text me? I could’ve saved you the trouble of coming here.”
“I… I…” stammered Samantha, whose tongue was suddenly thick and lips suddenly numb. Everything was going wrong. A complete one-eighty from last night when Angel had stared deeply into Samantha’s eyes, almost begging her to fall in love. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“You didn’t embarrass me,” replied Angel as she sighed and shook her head. She looked tired, as if she had been up all night having deep conversations around a withering bonfire. “It’s just… well, I just don’t like surprises.”
Samantha didn’t want to mention that Angel had loved her surprise last night. Both of the surprises, since sex before the date, had surprised them both. Now clearly wasn’t the right time.
“Well, do you at least like brownies? They’re perfectly moist. They might even be the best brownies in the world. It’s a secret family recipe.”
Angel eyed the box. Her features softened and smoothed, as if relenting. “The best brownies, hey? How much better can they be than the brownies from Shift? Apparently, the bakery has won some or other award this year.”
Samantha fake gasped, glad for the shift in the tension. It felt as though she could finally breathe again. “Mine are so much better. They can beat them in any competition. How dare you even insinuate otherwise.”
“Fine.” Angel’s lips quirked faintly upward. Her eyes brightened simultaneously, as though the two components synchronized like the gears of a smoothly run clock. One couldn’t happen without the other. “Let me try one.”
Samantha popped the lid. “Just one? You’ll need at least two. They’re decadent but not too much. The secret is in the recipe. I’ll tell you the magic ingredient if you want to know. Only because you saved my—”
Suddenly, a siren blared loudly.
“Shit.” Angel’s gaze flicked to the firefighters springing into action. “Look, I’ve got to go. Work calls. You understand, right?”
“Of course.”
Responding to an emergency was way more important than Samantha’s silly brownies.
Angel shifted her weight forward but didn’t run away. Instead, she ran her fingers through her hair. She exhaled loudly as if whatever she was going to say pained her greatly.
“Can you promise me that you won’t come back here? And if, for some reason, you find yourself in the area, can you call me first?”
It was a strange promise, especially considering Angel had just said that she wasn’t embarrassed by Samantha, but clearly, she was. Clearly, Samantha’s presence at the fire station was an inconvenience, if not a nuisance.
“I promise.”
With a last, desperate look, Angel dashed off, joining the other firefighters, who were preparing for the trucks to go out.
Ten minutes later, when Samantha parked her car in the driveway, she didn’t head straight for her front door. Instead, she made her way to Matty’s house and set the Tupperware container of brownies on the welcome mat before ringing the doorbell.
She was too miserable to watch his face light up like a bulb when he came strolling out, stumbling onto the gift. Right now, all she needed was a scented bath, a glass of white wine, and some soppy rom-com to take her mind off the morning.