“I’m fine. Whoever decided to have this cook-off when the Florida heat could rival the pits of hell is an idiot,” I say.
“I hope you’re not going to complain at my wedding next summer.” Mia frowns. Cooper drops the metal pot topper he’s holding on the table, mumbling out an apology before busying himself with a roll of paper towels. “The only time the gardens were available was in July.”
“Because no one in their right mind would get married outside in Florida in July.” I sneak another glance across the way, finding a guy in khaki shorts and a polo tucked into his pants lingering around Quincy’s table. He’s not being very discreet, trying to strike up a conversation with her in between the bowls of food she’s handing out then slinking away when she passes him a napkin. “I’ll keep my mouth shut about the statistical likelihood of rain on your wedding day.”
“And with that promise, I’m leaving to join the girls. Y’all are on your own.” Mia turns and offers the three of us a wave. “I hope you lose.”
“Give Quincy my best,” I call out. “And ask if I’ll ever get out of her head.”
“You know Quincy?” The man with the polo shirt replaces Miaat our table, and I want to know how the hell he moved so quickly. There’s a nervous energy about him, a demand in his question I don’t like. “I’m a physicist at UCF, and I’ve been following her work for years. She’s great, isn’t she?”
“Quincy? She’s …” I trail off, gaze flicking back to her table. This time, she’s watching me. Eyes narrowed, a hand on her hip. A smile curving on her mouth, and I roll my shoulders back. “Sorry, man. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she’s … how do I put this without making things awkward? You know she likes weather, right?”
“Yeah.” The man rocks forward on the balls of his feet, stepping closer. “I’ve watched her show. It’s impressive how she makes wind shear sound interesting.”
“Shereallylikes weather.”
“I’m not following.”
“She likes weather to the point of being attracted to it. Tornadoes. Tsunamis. Global warming. It’s what she visualizes during … you know.”
He wrinkles his nose. Shuffles back and pats at the line of sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. “During sex?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m open-minded, but that’s not something I’d be into. Would she—does she like when someoneisthe tornado?”
“I guess? We can’t all be perfect.” I grab a bowl of chili and hand it to him. “My condolences, dude.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. Tornadoes. Huh.” He shakes his head and makes a U-turn away from Quincy’s table. The napkin she handed him gets tossed in a trash can. Smugness rolls through me. “Never would’ve thought.”
When Quincy locks eyes with me again, I give her an obnoxious wave. She answers by flipping me off with a proud swish of her wrist, and standing out in the heat suddenly got a lot more fun.
Three hours and a sunburn on the back of my neck later, Cooper unties his apron and drops it on the table.
“Could you clean up? I need to head to the station for an overtime shift.” He unrolls a knife bag I’d expect a Michelin-star chef to carry around and taps three empty slots. “Knives go in here. You can drop everything in the sink back at my place. I’ll deal with it later.”
“You’re letting me live with you free of charge, which makes me responsible for cleaning up and doing the dishes. Hell. I’d do it even if I paid rent. I have a roof over my head. I don’t have to live down the hall from my sister or mother. You’re the reason we won first place in the cook-off. So many good things.” I untie my own apron and cut off the flame on the portable stove. The air around me instantly cools, a deep breath loosening itself from my chest with the June breeze. Nate was smart to escape when he did. He would’ve hated the ribbon ceremony. “When did you become a culinary aficionado? We lived on nothing but fast food in our early twenties.”
“That was before my metabolism slowed. I can’t put down ten Taco Bell burritos anymore.”
“That’s sad, isn’t it?”
“So sad. Cooking gives me something to do at the station in my free time, and it saves me from getting dragged into making videos with the younger guys. You know I hate the spotlight, and they’re constantly posting on social media.”
“The year you end up in the firefighters’ calendar is going to be the highlight of my life. I hope you’re holding a litter of kittens when you pose shirtless.”
“Shut up.” The tips of Cooper’s ears turn red. He smiles at my sister making her way toward us and jangling her keys. “I’ll catch a ride to the station with Mia so you can take the truck to my place. I’ll be back sometime tomorrow.”
“Going to miss you, sweetheart. I won’t wait up.” I laugh, butthe joke hollows out when I remember what he does. How he puts himself in danger to help others. “Be safe, man.”
“I’ll try. I have important things waiting for me at home.” His blue eyes gleam for the heartbeat of a second, some secret hidden beneath the surface he’s not ready to share with me yet, but he covers it up with a lazy grin. “And you be nice.”
“Nice? I’m always nice.”
“Sure you are.”
He gestures to his left. Quincy is walking our way, determination in her gait. The defiant look in her brown eyes tells me she’s gearing up for a fight, and fuck if that attitude doesn’t make my smile turn into a beam.
