Page 6 of Protect My Heart

“I think it’s great,” I say.

I swear everyone stops chewing and stares at me. It’s like a scene out of a movie. I awkwardly swallow the bite I just chewed and nod. “Very nutritious and full of vegetables.”

Full of vegetables. Any minute now and I’ll start talking about the fiber content of those veggies. Why am I like this? Why does she make me like this? I’ve never been what you would call a smooth talker, but I’ve never been a bumbling idiot who comes to dinner just to state the obvious either.

She winks at me across the table. “Thank you, Captain Safety.”

“Hey!” Garrett says, holding his arms open. “Why is he Captain Safety. We’re both firemen.”

Jess laughs as does Mr. Whitmore.

I’m just about to tell Garrett that he shouldn’t be offended because I don’t think his sister meant that moniker in a flattering way, but she speaks first.

“You are my brother.”

“But all firemen are concerned with safety issues. Is this because he’s higher ranking than me?”

Daphne rolls her eyes again then looks at me with the most spectacular smile I’ve ever seen. I’m unprepared for the vibrancy held within the slight tilt of her lips.

This woman is going to kill me.

“He’s just more focused on safety than the average bear,” she says.

That conversation dies and soon I realize that Daphne has started gathering plates from the table and is disappearing into the kitchen. I quickly stand and gather the rest, bringing them in to her.

We nearly crash into each other when I step into the galley space with my arms loaded.

“Oh, thank you for doing that,” she says. “Unnecessary but appreciated nonetheless.”

“You shouldn’t have to cook and do the dishes,” I say.

“Oh, it’s just the pattern we use now that we’re all adults. We’re not all here every night, so now whomever cooks also cleans, so everyone has to do at least both.” She shrugs, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature of the water. “It works.”

“I’ll help,” I tell her. I wedge my body between her and the dishwasher so I can load as she rinses.

“Sorry, I’m not a great cook,” she says.

“It was good.”

“You are a terrible liar,” she says with a laugh. “Listen, I know where my talents are and where they aren’t. It’s okay. One time Grady made this tuna casserole that was so gross, we had to toss it out and order pizza.”

I want to ask where her mom is, but I keep my mouth shut because right now she’s talking to me. Seemingly not hating my presence. I don’t want to do anything to screw that up.

“I’m not a great cook,” she says. “But I’m not the worst either.”

“I’m not so great with people.”

She looks up at me, that smile lighting her eyes until they seem as if they’re shimmering.

“I think you’re doing just fine.”

current day…

chapter seven

Fletcher

I’m standing with a group of the guys from the firehouse at yet another festival. This one is called the PeachFest and it’s evidently the biggest of the year. Except for maybe something that happens around Christmas. For being a small town, they sure stay busy. Despite the fact that it’s the middle of the afternoon on a Friday, the whole town seems to have shown up to celebrate.