Playing with Fire
Ryan
Ican’t help smiling as Ember studies the menu at Rosemary’s with the same intensity I use for analyzing fire scenes.
“Analyzing the menu?” I ask.
“I’m not studying the dessert,” Ember replies. “I’m analyzing the restaurant. See the lighting? Soft enough for romance but bright enough to read the menu. And the music—classic jazz at about seventy beats per minute, which makes people eat slower and order more. This whole place is engineered for lingering.”
Ryan’s grinning. “You’re giving me restaurant psychology on our first date?”
“I’m an event planner. I can’t turn it off.” I lean forward. “The table spacing, the color scheme, even the font on the menu—everything triggers specific emotional responses.”
“That’s interesting.” He reaches across the table, fingers brushing mine. “You see patterns everywhere, don’t you?”
“Is that weird?”
“It’s one of the things I like about you.” His thumb strokes my hand. “I still can’t believe you ordered a blowtorch dessert after a car accident.”
Her eyes sparkle with mischief along with the most challenging grin. God, she’s stunning with her pert nose, fulllips, and that thick mane of hair caressing in waves around her delicate neck and strong shoulders.
“Go big or go home. Besides, I figured having a firefighter at my table meant I could order anything involving flames.”
“Smart thinking.” I lean forward, drawn in by her energy and her fun nature. Most women I date are intimidated by the job, or worse, only interested in the uniform. But Ember? She treats it like it’s just another part of who I am. I really like it. “Though I have to admit, most of my first dates don’t require so many fire safety assessments.”
“Most? And here I thought I was special.” She pouts, and I find myself staring at her lips.
I can’t take my eyes off Ember’s stunning beauty. From her shapely figure to those endless legs, she’s captivating. The vibrant hues she’s wearing, her kelly green skinny jeans, make a statement. Her bold fashion choices mirror her playful spirit—it’s who she is.
“Well, most of my first dates didn’t start with car crashes and concussion-induced soul mate proposals either.” I smirk, watching her blush a little before she groans and covers her face.
“I was hoping you’d forgotten by now, maybe file it away to insanity?” She shakes her head.
“Forget my soulmate calling me her takeout order? Never.” The words come fast, which surprises me. I’m usually more guarded and more measured. But something about Ember has me relaxed and playing along.
The server brings our desserts and makes a show of the torch to Ember’s crème brûleé. The sugar caramelizes on top and then cracks with a gentle tap of her spoon. She makes a satisfied sigh and then prompts me to dig in. I’m about to take my first bite when my phone vibrates with the distinctive pattern of an emergency call.
My stomach sinks as I check the message: “Kitchen fire at Mario’s Pizza.” I know the building—old wiring, narrow exits—and it’s not good.
“I’m sorry,” I say, already standing. “Kitchen fire at Mario’s, three blocks away. I realize I’m off duty, but as a captain and we’re so close?—”
“I’m coming with you.”
I pause, caught off guard by her determined expression. “Ember, this is an actual emergency, not a?—”
“Perfect observation opportunity for my next fire-themed event?” She’s already grabbing her purse and pulling on her pink cardigan. “Besides, I’d rather watch you in action than eat alone.”
I should argue, but I laugh instead, watching her eat a large spoonful of her dessert. It’s against protocol to bring civilians to active scenes. But time is critical, and something tells me she’d find her way there anyway.
“Fine, but you stay behind the safety line I’ll put in place.”
The drive takes mere minutes.
I radio in while driving, getting updates from the crew already in route. Ember stays quiet, but I can sense her watching me, studying me. Typically, this is where I can spot the dates who shy away or lean too far in—all the warning signs, but she’s undeterred.
I’m in command mode at the scene, directing the first response team while assessing the situation. But part of me remains aware of Ember, watching as she takes charge of the growing crowd of onlookers.
“Folks, let’s make space for the emergency vehicles!” Her voice carries over the chaos. “Yes, yes, it’s very exciting, but let’s give them room to work. Sir, your Instagram story can be filmed from five feet further back. I promise it’ll be just as dramatic.”
