My mom had already handled the first one for me.
I swung my legs out of bed and grabbed the sweatpants the girls had given me yesterday. After that, I pulled on a tank top and threw a light sweater over my head since my mom always kept the thermostat at minus one thousand degrees.
She swore it wasn’t cold in the house, but anytime anyone mentioned it was basically the same as the store, she got offended and gave us The Look.
You know. The one that strikes the fear of a hundred deities into you.
I trudged my way downstairs. Since it was Sunday, the store was closed, but it was early enough that everyone had already gone to church. They wouldn’t be back for at least an hour and a half—which was more than long enough for Great-Aunt Bethel to count the ways I was going to Hell.
I turned on the coffeemaker and refilled the empty beans. It was kind of nice to have the house to myself, especially without everyone fussing over me. I knew Bethel meant well, but she didn’t exactly understand ‘personal space.’
Or any space at all, actually.
At least she’d taken down the poster of noodle-haired Timberlake when I’d asked her.
I made my coffee and sat at the kitchen table, enjoying the silence. I wasn’t thinking about anything other than the rich, hot coffee in the mug in front if me. I wasn’t thinking about the fire or my family or Noah or the fact I’d promised myself I’d ask him on a date if I survived.
Hindsight was a wonderful thing.
When I’d said that to myself, I’d been under immense stress. Life flashing before my eyes kind of stress. It was enough to make me pledge allegiance to a deity I didn’t believe in, never mind tell myself I was going to ask some hot stranger out for a date.
Did I want to go out with him?
Stupid question. I’d seen his penis—not to mention his eyes. Those green eyes of his could drop a nun’s panties to her knees.
It wasn’t a good idea. I knew that. Despite my insistence that I was fine, I knew I needed to recover. I needed to get back to my normal life and find somewhere new to live before I did anything else.
Besides, I didn’t know Noah. Getting to know someone was, of course, the whole point of going on a date, but—
Well, I didn’t want to date Noah.
I just… wanted to sleep with him.
That was a little tidbit I’d keep to myself, of course. If Halley and Ava knew that, I’d never hear the end of it. They’d barely realized who he was yesterday in the hospital before my doctor had stopped by and they had to leave.
I was expecting them to show up after they’d been on their run. I was going to get an earful anyway because of how nonchalant I was.
What was I supposed to do? Scream and shout? I’d already giggled after he’d introduced himself and I’d realized exactly who he was.
I was too shocked to do anything else, so I’d simply pulled the mask on and gotten on with it.
And wondered how soon was too soon to text him.
Was it too soon to text him now?
Oh, my God.
What was happening to me? I was turning into a fucking princess, wasn’t I? The handsome guy swooped in to save the day, and here I was, swooning.
No.
I was not swooning.
Reagan Wright did not swoon.
Ever.
I was not about to start over a tall, green-eyed, muscular, tattooed, firefighter.
Damn it.
Maybe a little.
Just enough to imagine him naked. It was a well-accepted fact that the quickest way to stop swooning was to get turned on.
At least it was in my world. Everyone else needed to get on board that train, because I’m telling you, it worked.
What would Noah look like naked?
I tapped my fingers against the side of my mug and stared out of the back window.
He had to have abs. Most guys didn’t have biceps out of a Men’s Health magazine unless they had the abs to go with it, which meant he also had the pecs and that tempting V that curved over a guy’s hips.
Did he have more tattoos? Or was it just his arm? Should I paint tattoos on there or was I just setting myself up for disappointment?
Wait.
I wouldn’t be disappointed. I was never going to see him naked.
Um, more naked.
Ahem.
No more tattoos. Just in case. I liked to be surprised now and then.
You know.
There was always the chance I’d wrangle him into bed. Or a bush. I really wasn’t that fussy.
Maybe not a bush. The branches could get scratchy. Not that I’d ever had sex in a bush.
I had some dignity.
Seriously. I did.
Two knocks at the front door pulled me out of my thoughts. As I’d suspected earlier, the cavalry had arrived, and it smelled like they came bearing food.
I looked at the bags. “Did you bring food?”
Halley nodded. “Grandma said that we were going to Hell if we didn’t.”
Ava put her bag on the counter. “Which she is an expert in, considering she’s wearing a black leather miniskirt to church.”
“Maybe she thinks God likes that.”
“Don’t.” Halley held up a hand. “Just… Abigail has lost control. I expect her to become an alcoholic any day now.”
“If she’s gone this long without succumbing, she’ll be fine.” I got up to help unpack but was quickly shooed back to sitting down. “I’m fine!”
I was sick of saying that now.
“Sit!” Ava demanded. “We’re gonna fix you some pancakes and you’re gonna tell us a little more about, well, that hot piece of ass who was in your room yesterday.”
“His name is Noah,” I said. Never mind that I’d just been undressing him inside my mind. “He sent me a picture of his cock and then saved my life.”
“That’s quite the apology.” Halley sniggered.
This was insufferable already. “Coincidence. It’s a coincidence.”
“Nothing in life is a coincidence.” Ava put a pot of strawberries on the counter and turned to look at me.
“Here we go,” I muttered, nursing my mug a little closer to me.
“I know you don’t believe in this stuff, but fate is a thing, Reagan. It exists. There are some things that happen that are against all reason and are completely inexplicable. I think you meeting Noah was one of those.”
Halley shook her head. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you buy that Kool-Aid.”
“There’s no other explanation for it,” Ava continued, completely oblivious to the fact Halley had a frying pan in her hand.
A frying pan she had no business holding.
“Ava,” I said.
“It was fate. Granted, your apartment burning down was a nasty side effect of that—”
She was kidding, right? She considered me being homeless as a ‘nasty side effect’ of fate? She needed help.
“—But it’ll all work out. He’s hot. He’s literally your dream guy.”
“Ava,” I said again as Halley set the frying pan on the stove.
“Sometimes the universe just has plans for us that we don’t understand, and that’s okay.”
“The universe needs to tell you to shut up!” I banged on the table. “Halley has a frying pan in her hand! I don’t want another fire!”
“Oh, crap!” Ava grabbed Halley and moved her away from the cooker before she plucked the pan from the hand of our kitchen-impaired friend. “You know you’re on strawberries duty. Reagan doesn’t need to go through any more trauma, thank you.”