Chapter 7
THEA
I never liked Sam.
My family would never believe that. He was a nice guy. Solid. Decent. Seemed to make Violet happy. And he and I always got along when he was around.
But I knew she could do better.
As evidenced by the guy who is sitting at the table making my grandfathers laugh, my parents beam, and my daughter chatter excitedly about Merry Mayhem.
Sure, Ruth is always excited about our town’s crazy annual Christmas competition, but her animation for the event has tripled now.
Because Josh is not Sam.
He’s better.
So much better.
I rinse another plate and load it into the dishwasher. Starting the dishes was the perfect excuse to get out of the dining room and away from Josh.
Sitting across from him for dinner had been…stupidly distracting.
I don’t get distracted by men. That’s ridiculous.
I’m thirty-one. I own a business. I have a pre-teen daughter—God, Ruth will be thirteen in two months, how did that happen?
I’m a grown woman who interacts with all kinds of men in all kinds of settings all the damned time.
I never get distracted by any of them. Amused?
Sure, sometimes. Pissed off? Definitely.
Annoyed? All the time. Charmed? Okay, on occasion. But distracted? What. Is. That?
How can sitting across my grandfather’s dinner table from a younger guy—he can’t be more than twenty-five—who is dating my sister make it so I don’t remember what we even had for the meal I just finished?
Fuck. Josh, the guy I’ve been thinking about on and off for six months, is dating my sister.
It’s a very weird coincidence. He didn’t even know Violet and Harley were connected.
But dammit. Why did he and Violet have to meet and hit it off?
I have to get over this crush that I’m definitely too old to have.
But as I brace my hands on the edge of the sink and squeeze my eyes shut, I can picture the shape of his mouth, the color of his eyes, the way his hair falls over his forehead, the way his hand and fingers look wrapped around a glass.
I run the back of my hand over my forehead. Do I have a fever or something?
Am I just horny?
Maybe I should get my hormone levels checked. It’s early for perimenopause, but anything is possible, I suppose. That makes more sense than me being smitten by some guy.
I hear a deep, warm laugh from the dining room and squeeze the scrub brush a little tighter as I scrape rice and sausage into the garbage disposal.
I really like his laugh. And that is ridiculous, too. But it’s deep and rich and real.
Josh is still in the dining room with my family, and I can hear everyone talking and laughing. He’s enjoying his time with my family. He seems completely at ease, and they’re all happy to have him here.
I run water into the cooking pot and add soap. I need to scrub something. Hard.
Because I like him. And I barely know him.
He was there during one of the scariest days of my life.
I would feel this way about any guy who had been there when my grandfather had been having a stroke.
This is just a strange hero-worshipping thing I have going on.
It’s not real. I just remember him as competent and gallant because of the situation.
And every guy looks good in a uniform.
I’m not actually attracted to him.
I just like him because he was very kind to my grandfather.
And he’s my sister’s boyfriend.
I should like my sister’s boyfriend. That’s okay. It’s good, even.
But I should not get a hot swirling sensation in my belly when he laughs.
I scrub the side of the pan, enjoying the feel of the friction and the heat of the water. It stings the hangnail I have on my middle finger, and I welcome that as well. I deserve that. You should not lust after the guy your sister is dating.
So…I’ll just ignore the warm swirly feelings he causes. Hot, they are definitely hot, swirly feelings. Ugh. I’ll ignore all the freaking feelings he causes. We’re going to be partners for Merry Mayhem. That’s it. I’ll just be grateful I’m not Sam’s partner in Violet’s place.
Oh, grateful? That’s what you’re going to feel? Really?
I scrub harder.
So what if Josh is respectful of my grandfathers and didn’t even blink about them being gay?
Or that he’s kind to my daughter. Or that he also didn’t seem to think twice about me being a single mom and didn’t ask about Ruth’s dad, even in a roundabout way.
He’s taken everything in stride. He’s been charming and seems fully comfortable with my parents.
But so what? So what if, as a firefighter and paramedic, he’s probably seen a lot of shit, people at their worst, some strange, not great circumstances, and is programmed to help, rather than judge?
Unlike Sam, who is a finance bro and hangs out exclusively with other finance bros and not only judges people down on their luck, but also judges people who drive cars that are more than three years old.
And so what if Josh is genuine and warm and even…sweet? I guess that’s the word.
Sweet is good. Violet deserves sweet. She deserves to see a major contrast to what she had and know that there are other options out there. She also deserves someone who loves her family.
We all do.
I’m not heartbroken that my family thought Sam would be a part of us and then ended up breaking up with all of us. I’m heartbroken that Sam never really loved my family the way he should have.
I was glad when they broke up. I didn’t like seeing my sister upset, of course, but I haven’t missed Sam. I was glad to hear he had a new girlfriend. Hopefully, that will keep him the fuck away from Violet while he’s in town.
The way Josh shared the story about how he followed a woman from Nebraska all the way to Louisiana shows that he’s far more romantic than Sam ever was.
The way Josh admitted that he tends to go overboard at times shows he’s at least a little self-aware.
The fact that he seemed a little sad and even embarrassed that the woman chose another man over him showed that he’s got some humility.
He didn’t seem angry or even jealous. He seems a little heartbroken, which is…
nice. It’s nice to think he’s got a heart and cares about this woman, but also respects that she chose someone else and moved on.
Plus…he’s really hot.
I squirt more soap into the pan and scrub harder.
It doesn’t need it, but I do.
It’s okay to think my sister’s boyfriend is a good guy, but is it okay to think he’s hot?
Maybe. It’s maybe just an objective fact, and my observing it is just…something anyone would do.
I need to talk to my girlfriends. I need them to see Josh and see if they also think he’s hot.
I look around for my phone. It’s lying on the counter several feet away. I look down at my sudsy hands. Dammit.
I need to text Andi and Nora and let them know they have an extra assignment tonight at the Merry Mayhem kick-off event.
Nora will definitely be there. It’s her event after all.
But I need to be sure my grumpy, divorced friend Anderson will show up.
She usually does for Nora’s stuff, but all this holiday craziness makes her roll her eyes extra hard.
I rinse my hands and grab the faucet sprayer to rinse the pot.
The hose reminds me that Josh is a firefighter.
Firefighters are automatically hot. It’s not just me. I’m certain Nora and Andi will agree. Firefighters are freaking heroes. They’re willing to run into burning buildings to save other people, for fuck’s sake. That’s definitely sexy.
And he’s willing to do Merry Mayhem to help Violet save face in front of Sam.
He doesn’t even really know what Merry Mayhem is or what it entails.
Dammit. I like Josh.
Violet definitely upgraded.
So I like him. So what? That’s good. And I’ll just—
“Hey, what time should I be here tomorrow?”
I gasp and whirl, still gripping the sprayer and showering Josh with water.
The stream hits him directly in the chest.
The plates he’s holding don’t even wobble.
He just looks down at the water, then back up at me, one eyebrow quirked.
I drop the sprayer and grab a towel, stepping forward and starting to blot at his shirt.
Standing this close, I can smell him again—still really like it—and I am very aware of his size.
Also, how hard the chest muscles are behind the wet shirt I’m stupidly trying to dry with my mother’s dish towel that has Christmas lights embroidered around the edge and says Christmas Calories Don’t Count in the center.
He clears his throat and grabs my wrist, encircling it with those long fingers I noticed at dinner. I freeze with my hand and the towel against his chest.
“Don’t worry about that,” he says, his voice a little gruff.
He leans closer, and I suck in a little breath.
But he’s not leaning closer. He is leaning around me to set the plates that he’s holding on the counter behind me. Then he takes the towel from my fingers and blots at his shirt himself.
“I don’t think this is going to work,” he says.
“My brothers have some stuff upstairs. I’ll get you something.”
“Thanks.”
Neither of us makes a move to put more distance between us.
One part of my brain is screaming at me to step back.
But another part, the part that was just running through all of the reasons he seems like such a great guy, which is also the part right next to that part that was very annoyingly asking why he had to stop into Perks and Rec on a night Violet was helping out rather than one of the nights I was filling in (i.e.
, the part I have been stubbornly refusing to acknowledge) is yelling louder.
And that part is saying stay right here.
I swallow. “Um, you asked me a question when you came into the kitchen?”
I’m very proud I was able to remember that.
He nods. “Yeah, what time should I be here tomorrow?”
That part of my brain that I’ve been trying to ignore notes that he doesn’t move back even now.