Page 32 of Hot Stuff


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“Okay, you just sounded way too prophetic for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The weekend is what we make it. Come on. Tell me you didn’t get that out of a fortune cookie.”

I guffaw. “I’ll have you know that was right from the brain of Garrett Alexander.”

A tickled smile brightens her face. “Maybe you should write fortunes, then.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Definitely. I’m sure you could do it on the side. Like a second job to firefighting.”

“Oh yeah.” A soft chuckle falls from my lips. “Can’t wait to tell the guys at the firehouse.”

Her eyes go wide at my mention of the firehouse, and I lift up my hands defensively, already knowing where her mind just went. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone anything at the firehouse. I don’t have a death wish.”

“Why did you ask me out, then? I mean, you know my dad isn’t going to like it.”

“Because…” I shrug. “Honestly, Lauren, I’ve been thinking about you for…a while now. I didn’t think it was going to go away. And we’re adults. As much as I respect your dad, I don’t make my decisions based on any other man.”

She gulps. “I wish I could be as confident as you are.”

“You just need a little practice. That’s all.”

She nods as we move on to the next tank. It’s filled with a couple huge goldfish—literally. They’re both the size of baseballs, and I’ve never seen anything like them before in my life.

Lauren slowly moves closer to the tank before putting her hand against the glass and gasping. I’m not expecting it, so I don’t even think when I reach out and grab her hip, a knee-jerk, subconscious reaction to her shock.

“What? What is it?”

“He just looked me in the eye, Garrett.”

“The fish?”

She nods, never breaking eye contact with the tank.

“Do you want me to…beat him up for you?” I ask with a chuckle.

She shakes her head. “No. I… It’s just…oh my God.”

“What?” I ask.

What on earth is going on here?

“It’s just this fish. I feel like…he’s trying to ask me to be his friend or something.”

“You think he wants to be your friend?”

“Yeah.” She continues to stare into the tank, both hands pressed up against it now. “I think me and this guy right here have, like, a soul connection. Like maybe he’s been my fish in a past life or something.”

“A soul connection?” I tap the glass. “You and this guy right here?”

She nods.

“Is that the same as him being your spirit animal?”

“No,” she says quickly. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s completely different.”

“O-kay.” I laugh. “I clearly don’t understand the intricacies of fish relationships, and I apologize.”

She rolls her eyes. But she also giggles. “Clearly.”

“So…what does this soul connection mean exactly? Are you taken now? Pledged to be married?”

More giggles. “Stop.”

“Well, what? Help me out here.”

She looks away from the glass and at me, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t know how to explain it. He just speaks to me.”

“Like, verbally? Or a spiritual level? Because, honestly, Lauren, I probably need to know right now if you can hear animals speak. We could both quit our jobs and take that hearing of yours on the road.”

“You wish I could talk to animals,” she says, almost like it’s an insult before adding, “Actually, so do I. But no. It’s spiritual.”

I bite my lip to keep myself from kissing her square on the mouth. It’s the most ridiculous five minutes of my life, and yet, I can’t stop smiling. “So, are you going to get him?”

“He’s thirty-five dollars. And I don’t have a tank. That’ll be another two hundred dollars, easy. Plus, all the maintenance. I just don’t know if I can convince myself I should be spending five hundred dollars on a goldfish.”

“I can definitely convince you that you shouldn’t. But I won’t. Because I’m a firm believer in doing what makes you happy, even if someone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You’re a good person. A successful person. You have a really good job, and you’re insanely smart. You don’t spend money on booze or crack or fetish websites, do you?”

A little snort escapes her nose. “Um, no.”

“Then I think it’s okay to spend the money on a goldfish with which you have a strong emotional bond. In fact, to me, it’s worth the money to buy you a five-hundred-dollar emotional support goldfish because it’s worth it to me to be your emotional support.”

“Emotional support goldfish?” Her mouth crests into a full-blown smile. “What?”

“Spiritual spirit goldfish, then?” I offer, and she bursts into laughter.

“This is a very strange conversation to have this early on in knowing someone.”

“I agree. Frankly, it’s a strange conversation to have, period. But that doesn’t make it any less valid.”

“Garrett, I can’t let you buy me this fish.”

“Sure, you can.”

“Come on,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

I grab her by the jaw, my hands cupping both sides of her face, and smile directly into her eyes. “Lauren, you have a soul connection with that fish. That doesn’t come along every day. Honestly, if you’d asked me yesterday, I’d have told you that doesn’t come along ever. You can’t just ignore that kind of pull. And neither can I. I’m getting you the fish.”

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