19. June #2
Volunteers donate chili, then people purchase paper tickets they can exchange for a small cup of the soupy goodness at any booth.
All donations go to burn victims and after-school programs. Simple.
Straightforward. And for a good cause. Count me in.
I purchase ten tickets, then slip into the outdoor venue.
And even though my stomach rumbles with anticipation, I search for Bryan instead of heading to the nearest booth for a sample.
It smells good. The air. Cumin. Chili powder. Smokey deliciousness. I rise onto my tiptoes as I pass a nearby booth serving a white chili with white beans, chicken, and green chilis.
Uh, yes, please.
“Hey, can I help you?” the girl manning the booth asks.
So much for finding Bryan first.
I rip off a ticket and hand it to her. “Hey! Can I have a sample, please?”
“Sure thing.”
Seconds later, a paper cup is placed in my hand, and I bring it to my nose, breathing in the incredible aroma.
This is going to be good, I can already tell.
As the heat seeps through the paper and into my palm, I scoop up a bite with a plastic spoon and taste the chili.
The flavors make me feel like I’m slipping into a hot tub.
Just enough burn to make me feel it, but not overwhelming at all.
It’s warm and chicken-y and reminds me of home, and is that… cilantro?
“Good, right?” The girl chuckles, reading my expression. “I’ve heard we’re a top contender, but my personal favorite is over there.” She points toward one of the booths behind me. “Definitely try Bryan’s chili. It’s so good! I’ve already had like four samples today.”
Bryan’s chili?
My brow furrows as I glance toward where the girl is looking.
Sure enough, there he is. Fireman Bryan with a couple of his work buddies.
He looks cute in his navy blue T-shirt and mustard yellow pants with a thick jacket showcasing the HH Fire Department logo across the back.
As if he can feel my gaze, Bryan looks in my direction and grins when he sees me.
“June!” he calls, waving me over. “June! Get over here, babe!”
Babe? The four-letter word only deepens the furrow in my brow.
He’s never called me babe before. Is it because of our conversation on the phone, or is it because of his friends who are most definitely staring at me?
I shake off the feeling, take another bite of chicken enchilada chili, and stride toward him. “Hey, Bryan.”
“Hey, June.” He pulls me into a hug. “You look…comfortable.”
I glance down at my lavender hoodie and baggy jeans.
I had half a mind to dress in sweats from head to toe, but decided against it at the last minute.
When you’re used to wearing scrubs for work, anything else feels fancy.
Add in the fact I’m still recovering from last night, and he’s lucky I’m wearing denim at all.
“I like it,” he adds as if reading my mind. “I like a girl who can be natural.” He kisses my hairline, then tosses his arm around my shoulders. “Reggie and John, this is June. June, this is Reggie and John.”
“So, you’re the infamous June,” one of the guys says. Reggie, I think? I’m not sure. “We’ve heard a lot about you,” he adds. “You should’ve seen our boy here last night.” He slaps his hand against Bryan’s shoulder. “He was shitting his pants when you wouldn’t respond to his messages.”
“Love the chili, by the way,” the other guy adds. John. “It’s the best one here.”
“Is it?” I ask before remembering I’m supposed to know what it tastes like. After all, I made it, didn’t I? Or at least, that’s what everyone thinks.
“Yeah.” John ladles a big scoop of chili into a paper cup as I finish the chili from the last stand so I won’t have to juggle two samples at once.
Tossing the empty cup into the trash, I take the new chili from John and examine what’s inside.
Tomato. Peppers. Chunks of sausage and ground beef.
It looks…amazing. I take a bite and close my eyes as the flavors explode along my taste buds.
Smoke. Paprika. Chili Powder. “Ohmigosh.” My eyes pop, and I press my free hand to my lips.
Reggie and John laugh before Reggie nudges Bryan with his elbow. “And she’s humble, too.”
“Sorry,” I rush out. I wipe the corner of my mouth with my thumb. “It’s just…every time I make this recipe, it hits different, you know? And I didn’t have a chance to try it before Ford dropped it off, so—”
“Oh, yeah. Ford’s a nice guy,” John says.
“The best,” I agree, surprising myself when I realize I mean it. Ford? The best? If Violet or Lexie overheard me, they’d be appalled.
“And then, to come and support, too?” John continues. He shakes his head, clearly impressed.
Registering his words, I pull back, letting the spoon hover an inch from my lips.
He’s here? Ford? Why? How?
“Didn’t know Hardens were decent human beings,” John adds dryly.
Reggie cuts him off. “Speak of the devil. Hey, Ford!” Reggie waves at someone behind me.
I glance over my shoulder, caught off guard by the conversation in general, let alone a certain someone striding toward me with a confidence that isn’t only off-putting but sexy as hell.
How does Ford do it? How does he carry himself like that?
With so much confidence, I’m pretty sure he could part the Red Sea with a single step.
Add in the way he pushes his sandy brown hair away from his face before tacking on a head nod to Reggie and John like they’re best friends despite having only met earlier today, and I’m confused and a little turned on and super confused.
“Hey, June Bug,” he greets me. He looks me up and down. “You look good.” I tug at the hem of my lavender hoodie, feeling more underdressed than when Bryan commented on it. Not that it matters. “You look better,” he clarifies.
Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes more sense than any other version of good I could’ve landed on.
“I feel better,” I answer.
“That’s good.” His eyes fall to the chili in my cup. “Love the chili, by the way. Beautiful and a chef?” His attention flicks to the man beside me. “Seems she’s the whole package.”
“Don’t I know it.” Bryan’s arm squeezes around me, plastering me into his side even more until it’s almost hard to breathe.
Part of me can’t help but wonder if he’s marking his territory or if he really does want to be this close to me.
Is it an act? A public display of affection?
Or would he have his arm around me like this even if we were the only two people here?
Does it even matter? And why do I feel…off?
Ford slips a ticket to Reggie. “I’ll take one cup. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” Reggie dishes out a large scoop into a paper cup, then hands it to Ford.
“Thanks, man.”
As Ford takes the cup, a feminine voice calls, “Ford! You coming or what?”
Tension spreads along my spine. I follow the sound, finding a gorgeous woman waving at Ford.
Oh. Okay, I should’ve seen this coming. Of course, he isn’t here alone.
Why would he be? With a simple snap of his fingers, he’d probably have a whole lineup of gorgeous girls who would happily be his plus one for an evening.
And just because I happened to fill that role last night while sicker than a dog doesn’t mean anything.
Honestly, I should be grateful. For the reminder.
The evidence of why whatever I’m feeling toward a certain someone is not only unwarranted, but bad for my mental health, even if he does have a way of getting under my skin.
“Guess that’s my cue,” Ford announces. He lifts the chili sample in a silent cheers motion at me. “See you around.”
I open my mouth to reply when Bryan cuts me off.
“Thanks again for taking care of my girl last night,” Bryan says. “Next time, you can call me, and I’ll take it from there.”
“And why would I do that?” Ford counters. “A girl like June isn’t someone you hand off, am I right?” He offers a mock salute with his plastic spoon, then turns to me again. “Glad you’re feeling better, June Bug.”
“See you, Ford,” I return. I don’t know if he hears me.
He’s already halfway across the path. I don’t like it, though.
This feeling. It doesn’t even make sense.
My brows pull as I watch him walk further away before I peek up at Bryan.
Why do I feel guilty? I shouldn’t. I did nothing wrong.
No one did. Not me, or Ford, or Bryan, or whoever Ford’s talking to or…
“I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back,” I announce.
“Where are you going?” Bryan asks.
“I forgot to tell Ford something.”
“What’d you—”
“Two minutes,” I promise him, tacking on an apologetic smile for good measure.
Chasing after Ford, I call, “Hey, Ford?”
When he glances back at me, his brows raise. “Yeah?”