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“You want to get all of this cleared up by next week. The commissioner will have us fly over brush areas next weekend. If it’s not removed, unfortunately, you will get fined.” He said it with sincere regret in his voice and his hands on his hips. They were huge hands. My stomach flip-flopped. At least I knew I was still alive. My hormones had been dormant for a few years since my husband left.
“Do you have someone who can help you clear it?” the captain asked.
“I…” I wanted to lie, but it wouldn’t come out. “I…”
“Tell you what. Me and some of the guys will come by this weekend and clear it for you. Just don’t mention it to anyone else. We will do it on our own time, not the city’s.”
My mouth fell open.
He gently touched my chin to close it.
“We don’t want any bugs to fly into that beautiful mouth of yours.”
Zing, zing, zing. The sparks were flying from his touch. Control yourself. Geez!
His eyes did that sparkling thing again, but the glimmer immediately vanished when one of the other firemen approached.
“Oh, yeah, you have a lot to clear back here.”
“Yep, we are gonna help her out this weekend. You okay with that, Pete?”
“Oh.” Pete whispered a curse word under his breath, then sighed and said, “Okay.”
“We’ll get a few guys with weed trimmers and knock it all out in no time. We’ll see you on Saturday, bright and early.”
Chapter Two
“It dawned on me this morning that we didn’t introduce ourselves the other day,” the captain said to me as soon as I opened my front door on Saturday morning. It was six in the morning, and I had a lavender satin scarf wrapped around my head to protect my natural curls. My vision had not yet cleared, and I definitely had not had my coffee yet.
“I’m sorry, but what?” I asked with a yawn. I was in my fuzzy bright-pink slippers and wrapped in my magenta terry-cloth robe. As I spoke, I caught a strong whiff of my morning breath and winced.
He stuck out his right hand—his enormous, masculine right hand—and said, “I’m Captain Raymond Jackson Sr. You can call me Ray. We’re here to remove your brush, remember?”
“Oh.” I tightened the grip of my robe with my left hand and straightened my posture. I wanted to cover my mouth to hide the stench of my breath but instead extended my hand to accept his. I tried to calm my hormones. I was definitely wide awake now. Would the sparks that flew when he touched me ever cool off? Was I the only one who felt it? I looked into his eyes and saw that little sparkle again. “I’m Cassandra Wilson. You can call my Cassie or Cass.” I noticed the sparkle in his eyes lingered for a little bit longer this time.
“I’m sorry we woke you. We wanted to get a head start on clearing the brush before it gets hot. Also, some of the guys want to hang out with their families. This should take only a couple of hours.” He glanced from the top of my head down to my feet. He had that little smile again. “We can go around through the back gate. Does your son want to help out?”
Before I could answer, Max yelled from his room, “Yes!”
“Huh?” I was surprised. “He’s usually not up until nine or ten on the weekends.”
“Put on some jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, socks, and tennis shoes. We’ll meet you out back!” Ray called out to him. Ray turned around and stepped off the front porch. As he walked away, he slipped on sunglasses. Nice butt, I observed with a slight tilt of my head.
“Okay!” Max shouted excitedly.
Moments later I heard the hum of weed trimmers, which sounded too much like a bunch of rattlesnakes for my nerves. My son was out the back door before I could kiss or hug him. I decided to take a quick shower and brush my teeth while I had the chance.
Fifteen minutes later I was refreshed and fully dressed. I opened my bathroom door to find Kyra staring up at me with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, tapping her foot. She looked so much like my ex at that moment, but she was adorable. She had her father’s caramel complexion and full lips. Both of my kids were darker than me. Honestly, many Caucasians are darker than me. I am a pasty shade of black with a culture of Creole.
“What?” I asked.
“Why? Why do they have to make all that noise near my bedroom window while I’m trying to sleep?”
“Would you rather do what they are doing with only me and your brother? And not with weed trimmers but with those giant scissor-shear thingamajigs?”
She stopped tapping her foot and thought for a second. “Fine.” She rolled her hazel eyes. “I’m going to watch cartoons in your room, though.”
I put my hands on my hips, smirked, and said, “Try asking me first.”
