He stares at me for one more long moment that stretches into eternity before blowing out a breath. When his shoulders sag, I know he’s admitting some kind of defeat, and it makes me want to take it all back.
“Okay,” he tells Savanna, finally looking away. The samestupid smile I saw him wear at my favorite bench after I told him I couldn’t see him anymore forces its way onto his face. “I’ll do it.”
While she squeals in delight, I stuff the cookie into my mouth, feeling like I’ve just made a grave mistake.
Someone else is going to go on a date with Wyatt. I should probably start praying now that it’ll only ever be one of three.
Showtime Dalton
Clappingmyhandstogether,I walk towards the camera set up in the doorway of my bathroom. Behind me, the glass door on the shower is fogged up, steam billowing around the room. A towel is slung low on my hips, giving everyone a view of my upper body, minus my left pec. I strategically cover that with my arm as I rub my hands together, hiding my tattoo while grinning at the camera.
“Two words: Firefighter Auction.”
The video cuts to me standing sideways, jeans now covering my legs. Again, I cover my new tattoo, looking at the camera in the mirror as I slap a little aftershave on. “Your chance to bid on me and other eligible firefighters.”
With a black t-shirt on in the next frame, I sit on a bench at the end of my bed, ensuring that it’s in frame in the background. My head hangs down to begin with, then slowly rises, mischief in my eyes as I look at the camera.
“Tickets are on sale this Friday at 10:00 AM.”
Leaning against a doorframe in the last frame, I slowly raise my cowboy hat and put it on my head, then hold up a single rose. “I’d love to see you there.”
Then I wink.
Nessies_BookNook:
If I were single…
TheThirstyBookshelf:
I love California this time of year.
Bookish_Insanity_:
My 'zon must be broken 'cause I couldn't find this model
FiretoFire831Station9:
Don't trip again, firefighter Dalton. It might start a fire.
Chapter 29
Wyatt
Joltingforwardonmycouch, my feet hit the floor from where they were on the coffee table. I reread the comment on my social media over and over again.
Don’t trip again, firefighter Dalton. It might start a fire.
I get a lot of comments on my posts. Some I read, some I don’t. Majority of them are from women, especially on my videos that are more thirst trap than not. Like this post about the auction and tickets. Which might be why this comment caught my attention. It’s different. Familiar in a way it shouldn’t be.
The tripping part has me clicking on the profile for the user, but it doesn’t reveal anything. No posts, no information. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was a bot account. Except it mentioned me tripping. That’s knowledge only a few people have. The guys haven’t posted my tripping incident, and I didn’t bring it up in any of my other videos.
Firetofire831Station9.
Station Nine is the station I’m at. Eight-thirty-one is an area code for Santa Rosé. And fire to fire… could this be another firefighter?
Clicking on the “replies” portion of the profile, my stomach bottoms out, blood running cold. Whoever this is has only replied to my videos. There’s not a single other comment through the entire thing, right down to the end of the replies.
Aw, look. Did the wittle firefighter not get the girl’s number? Cry me a river.
