The Firefighter's Appeal. Elizabeth OttoЧитать онлайн книгу.
glance. He didn’t look away when she looked at him—seemed to almost be daring her with his eyes. She made out his crooked smile—sexy and sassy—aimed right at her, before he turned to talk to a customer.
“He’s pretty good-looking, huh?” Macy smiled knowingly and ran a hand down the back of Lily’s hair.
“Not bad.” Lily shrugged.
“Man, your hair rocks. It’s so smooth and black.” Macy continued to pet her.
Lily blew a stream of air over her fringe bangs. She’d just had them cut long enough to touch the tips of her eyelashes, and the blue-black color had been too awesome to resist. It went well with the crimson lip gloss she’d slicked on earlier. Nothing went with bitching black hair like red lipstick.
“If you keep petting me, he’s going to think we’re a couple.” Her eyes slid to the bar. Anxiety and sweet anticipation tickled her insides.
Macy smacked her lips. “If he’s like most men, and I’d bet money he is, he wouldn’t mind one bit.” She nudged Lily with her shoulder. “You’ve been eyeballing him since you got here.”
The bingo announcer called out another number. Lily’s face went hot. She sighed and picked at her fingernail. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to put Macy off or drum up the courage to catch the bartender’s eyes. “Kind of hard not to.”
Macy leaned on her elbows over the small round table until her nose touched the tip of Lily’s. “And?”
Lily placed one finger on the tip of Macy’s nose and pushed gently until her friend backed up. “And what?” Macy’s eyebrows rose excitedly. Lily shook her head. “And, no. I’m not going over there. Too much, too soon.”
The protest sounded lame even to her own ears. Was there a store where she could buy extra nerves to maybe—maybe—walk up to him? Lily knew her retro pinup style and tattoos gave most people the impression that she was a badass, but underneath the ink and lipstick, she was reserved. Cool, even, mostly to her disadvantage.
The stress she’d been under these past months didn’t help; in fact, they’d kept her from finding any real joy in life, or any reason to actively participate in it. No wonder she felt antsy and ready for something fun and amazing to happen. No wonder she also wanted to run out of the bar and head straight home. Part of her suddenly wished she and Macy were in another bar, one that wasn’t filled with reminders of why she’d been under so much stress and grief in the first place.
The announcer’s voice boomed through the mic. “B 12.”
Lily grabbed a chip; Macy smirked. “Look at him again. How can you say too much, too soon?”
He was facing the bar, giving Lily a perfect view of all six-plus feet of him looking fine in a dark T-shirt with Throwing Aces in white lettering across the front. The way the fabric stretched just a bit over his tight middle and settled into the dips and rise of his pecs whenever he turned or twisted was a gift to every woman in the room. Excitement shot low in her belly. Lily frowned at her body’s sudden reaction. That hadn’t happened in a while.
“Of all the women here tonight, he’s been eye locked on you, and you’re overthinking again. Remember what you said? Be present.” Macy gave a lazy eye roll and slumped her shoulders in dramatic exasperation. Her curls made a Shirley Temple bounce as she leaned back on her stool. “I have three words for you, Lily. Crazy. Cat. Lady. That’s what you’re turning into.”
Lily’s lips parted. She tried a little lightness, hoping to tame Macy’s enthusiasm before it turned into an atom bomb, as usual. “Adam is not a cat. He’s people.”
Macy managed to raise a brow and scowl at the same time. “Your Adam Levine fangirling is not a suitable replacement for a real man, Lily. Crazy cat ladies usually don’t have a man around, which is why they name their cats after celebrity men they’ll never have.”
Lily laughed. “I have one cat!”
Macy shrugged one petite shoulder and thrust out her lower lip as she fiddled with her bingo board. “That’s how it starts, Lily. That’s how it starts.”
Lily was about to throw in a snarky retort when someone bumped into her shoulder. She looked over as a tall man in a DFD T-shirt made a quick apology as he walked away. Lily shuddered. The man maneuvered through the crowd until he was out of sight. Firemen. The last time Lily had been surrounded by this many firemen, she’d been lying on the ground with soot burning her lungs and throat.
“Hey, you missed the number.” Macy leaned over and slid a chip onto Lily’s board, but Lily wasn’t paying attention. She eyed another fireman. Same shirt. Same memory. Anxiety clenched her gut with a painful grip. Dang, this wasn’t supposed to happen. There was no reason for this to be happening. She’d gone to therapy, and even though she refused to go into detail about that night, Lily had made progress. Just the fact that she’d finally left her house to go somewhere other than work or the grocery store was huge.
Macy’s voice dipped low. “I’m sorry, Lil. I shouldn’t have asked you to come to this tonight. I just thought...maybe some of the wind had run out of that storm, you know?”
Lily’s stomach went into free fall. This was the last thing she wanted to talk about. She was doing well—was reining in her anxiety like a champ, thank you.
“I mean,” Macy continued just audibly above the racket, “this fire department wasn’t even the one who...you know...that night.”
Lily knew that, but it didn’t take the bitterness away. It didn’t matter what fire department had been present the night her sister had burned to death and Lily had been nearly killed. Firefighters were firefighters—they all represented the crew that failed her so spectacularly. Combined with how unabashedly members of the Danbury crew flaunted their womanizing, it was hard for her to see firemen in the positive light everyone else seemed to. Knowing Macy, her friend would leave the moment Lily asked her to. But Macy was having a good time, and Lily didn’t want to ruin that. Macy was the only person who stood by her through thick and thin, and Lily owed her. Besides, this was silly. She could do this. They were men...just men. A guy didn’t have to be a fireman to be a womanizer—Rob had proved that. There had to be at least a few good ones around this town.
Lily smiled, and her lips parted to give a reassuring reply when something hit Macy in the back of the head. A roar of excited laughter went through the room. Lily’s gaze snapped back to the bar, saw the barrel of a T-shirt cannon pointed her way. All three bartenders had them and, instead of shirts, they were shooting small packages around the room. People started to jump up to catch the prizes, making mad dashes across the floor and over tables to grab handfuls. Lily frowned. What the hell was in those packages?
The hot bartender aimed one her way, a big smile crossing his face as a packet hit her in the side of the head before plopping onto the bingo board. Lily cupped her head in astonishment, her eyes falling to the item that had hit her. Candy.
Macy snorted. “Damn, Lily. That was either a challenge or an invitation. Probably both, you lucky bitch.”
Lily palmed the package, then shrieked when another pinged painlessly off the top of her head. She looked; the bartender was staring at her, the I-dare-you smile too much to resist. The crowd of women by the bar had thinned, giving her an easy path. Could she do it? Even if she made a fool of herself—which was pretty much a given—it wasn’t like she’d be back at this bar. She’d never see him again.
Lily pushed away from the table. Before the fire, she’d just started becoming more social and outgoing. An introvert by nature, she found it terrifying and often exhausting to plop herself in social situations, but she’d been trying. Macy was always a ray of light and energy, everything Lily wasn’t, and Lily had craved some of that for herself.
So she’d been forcing herself go to friends’ houses for dinner parties or to the movies by herself. Instead of rushing through shopping trips as quickly as possible, she’d made herself slow down and browse—take some time to enjoy her surroundings.