Page 43 of Dandelions and Smoke

“And she’s always like that?” he asks Ainsley, like I’m not standing in front of them.

I place my hands on my hips as Ainsley giggles, followed by a “Mhm.”

“You should see her when she gets the idea in her head to take on some sort of side quest,” Tris laughs from the cappuccino machine.

A few weeks ago, she couldn’t get the damn thing to work, but now? Now, if an order comes in, she’s elated and the first to volunteer to make it.

“Ooo, like when she started alphabetizing the teas and pastries? Oh, or reorganizing the mugs by size and color?” Ainsley adds, as if wanting things to have a place and make actual sense is a bad thing.

I laugh, though, because the fact that they notice I do all of this without ever stopping me, even knowing I may or may not actually finish the task, makes me feel seen.

“Yes, well, at least I now know where to find all the ingredients when I need to help Tris make her Ballsack Biscuits,” I quip, sending Tris flying back with a finger pointed my way.

“Don’t you say that too loudly, Brat!” she says, eyes narrowed but with a lift to her lips.

“Stop me, Bitch,” I return, with a raised brow and love, of course.

These aren’t the usual terms of endearment that best friends would normally call each other, but they are for us. Tris was used to hearing people call her names, but when I said it to her the first day I met her, it wasn’t with malice or meant to hurt her, but the complete opposite. People used words to describe her as they saw fit, never thinking of how those words might shape her into becoming exactly what they accused her of being.

But when I met her, I didn’t see what they saw. Not in the same way. Yeah, she’s a bitch. But a bad-ass bitch, deserving of love and friendship. I say it with adoration, for her strength, for who she is, and all that she’s overcome. Instead of wearing it like a scarlet letter, she now wears it like a badge of honor.

But if someone else tries to call her that?

Ha…

The memory of the last woman who tried to mess with her flashes through my mind, and I pity whoever tries to hurt any of the people I care about next. These people are my family, and there isn’t anything I won’t do for my family.

“I thought my job was hard, trying to keep the guys and their antics to a minimum, but I see now that you, Ainsley, are the real saint,” Chief jokes, commending Ainsley, who laughs at his praise.

“Do not let her cute dresses, cowboy boots, and the flowers in her hair fool you,” Tris snorts.

“Yeah, seriously, this one is as bad as us. She’s just sneakier about it.” I pinch my lips and tilt my head, looking between them. “Go ahead and tell Chief about the pin you bought for Tris to wear on her apron.”

Ainsley’s head tilts down, and her cheeks turn a soft red. She huffs, then lifts her head and opens her palm, encouraging Tris to get it over with and show him.

“No way,” Chief barks out a laugh. “Does that say Fire Resistant?”

He laughs again, grabbing his stomach, and I’m momentarily stunned by how much I enjoy the sound of it.

“See,” I clear my throat, trying to stay in the moment instead of wishing he and I were somewhere else alone. “She’s as messed up as us.”

“I ain’t gonna argue with you,” Ainsley says sweetly, making me think I’ve won. “You have every right to be wrong.”

My jaw drops, and I’m stunned, though I shouldn’t be. Ainsley’s southern charm holds a well of clever comebacks that sound so pretty. I should know better by now. There’s a reason it’s the three of us, besties and sisters, come hell or high water… Or really sexy Fire Fighters.

After glowering at Ainsley, I turn to Chief. “What can I do for you, handsome?”

His grin turns wide, and the smile lines around his eyes crease, making his baby-blue eyes look as though they light up at my praise. As if he doesn’t know how handsome he is… but it dawns on me, maybe he doesn’t. I don’t know how his ex-wife treated or talked to him. My stomach sinks at the idea that he’s never been loved the way he deserves. Not that I’m willing to say that this is love or anything, but still.

I know nothing about his past other than what little he’s told me. We’ve been texting every day, going back and forth with the occasional phone call, but there are still some conversations that one should only have in person. For example, the conversation about his son and what happened after he reached out to his ex on Thanksgiving. Yeah, there’s a lot we have to talk about.

“I know where I want to take you on our first date.”

Now it’s time for heat to flood my cheeks. A giddiness bubbles inside me, and I practically bounce where I stand.

“Alright,” I say, trying and failing to hide the way my smile grows until my cheeks hurt, knowing that whatever it is he has in mind, I’m ready for it, as long as I’m with him.

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