I nod toward my phone, and Ryan exchanges our numbers with a quick tap of his phone to mine, which feels more intimate than it should.
Rhett coughs then, breaking the silence and jumpstarting my mind back to the fact there are others here with me, besides Ryan.
I laugh and point at my head. “Concussions make people say the damnedest things. You’ll have to give anything I said a little latitude.” Curiosity about what else I said when I was half-conscious grows. “But you’re right, let’s try dinner first. But only if you promise to let me pick dessert.”
Ryan laughs, laying my phone in my blanketed lap. “Deal, Firecracker.”
Sure enough, when I look at my phone, it looks like Nic blew it up; there are a slew of missed calls and notifications there.
Nic turns to me with a knowing smile as Ryan leaves the room. “Well, well, well. Looks like someone’s got an admirer. And Ryan McCallister? Girl, you crashed into town and landed on your feet, a perfect ten scorecard-wise.”
I blush, sinking back into the pillow with a contented sigh. Maybe coming to Peachwood Grove is what I need.
Chapter 2
Sparks and Static
Ryan
The moment I step inside, I toss my gear bag near the kitchen island and head straight for the fridge, hoping its contents might fill some unnamed void. I scan the shelves, pushing past leftover containers and condiments before I settle on a cold brew. Cracking it open and taking a long sip, I wander over to look out my back window toward the dark pond outlined in the light cast by the sliver of a moon. The water is so still tonight, despite the earlier rainstorms, it looks like black glass, reflecting the few stars brave enough to peek through the storm clouds.
I pull my cell out of my pants and grin when I see Ember’s name pop up on the screen. Settling into my well-worn leather armchair with the beer bottle in hand, I swipe open her message.
Hey Ryan, it’s Firecracker, aka Ember. Remember Me?
Also, I definitely said something mortifying about you being my soul mate, didn’t I? The hospital staff gave me LOOKS.
I type back realizing it was almost thirty minutes since this text was sent.
Me: You did mention that, yes. Though you also asked if I was a hallucination. So I’m choosing to focus on the soul mate part.
The bubbles appear as she responds back to me.
Ember: In my defense, you DO look like a romance novel cover model. Very “heroic rescue” energy.
I chuckle. She finds me attractive, at least I wasn’t imagining that despite the surrounding chaos of the wreck and hospital.
Me: I’ll take it as a compliment.
Ember: It absolutely is. Did you know the term “soul mate” comes from Plato? He wrote humans were originally created with four arms and four legs, but Zeus split them in half. Now we search for our other half.
Me: ...did you just give me a Greek philosophy lesson via text?
Ember: I do that when I’m nervous. Random facts kinda erupt from my brain. Very attractive. So sexy.
Me: I think it’s adorable.
Ember: You’re clearly still suffering from your own head trauma. I really appreciated today. Thing is, I’m not one to dine with strangers - soulmate status aside (gawd the fact I said that haunts me) - so share something personal about yourself.
I lean back, my thumbs poised over the screen. The house is quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. I can’t remember the last time a woman got me this wound up and excited. I should be exhausted, but I’m not. My normal night of watching Sports Center to chill out is canceled.
Me: Firecracker, I won’t hold the soulmate thing against you. Personal? Okay, I’ve been a firefighter for almost 15 years. But few know this: I’m obsessed with classic cars. Restoring them.
I hit send and take a sip of my beer, feeling my pulse quicken when her response comes almost instantly.
Ember: Classic cars? That’s fascinating! My dad used to drag me to car shows when I was little. What’s your favorite make/model?
Me: A ‘67 Ford Mustang Fastback. My uncle and I restored one together.
