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“Got busy. The job took over.” She didn’t add that she’d stopped because the last painting she’d done—a painting of her father leaving—had made her feel something she wasn’t prepared to feel, and she’d packed the brushes away the next morning. “What about you? Besides cooking championship chili.”
He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. “I fish. Not competitively or anything. Just out at the lake on my days off. It’s quiet. Gives me time to think.” He paused, his expression softening. “I also volunteer with the youth group at church. Help out with the teens.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You? A youth leader?”
“What, you think I’m not qualified?” He grinned, that easy, disarming smile that made something flutter in her stomach.
“I think you’re full of surprises, Chief Holloway.”
“Brandon,” he corrected. “We’re off the clock.”
She nodded, taking another spoonful of chili. “Brandon, then.”
The conversation flowed easier after that. He told her about growing up in Sweet Bloom, about his mother who still lived on the edge of town, about the time he accidentally set the school science lab on fire in tenth grade.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” He said, laughing. “Future fire chief, almost burning down his own school.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “What about you? Where did you grow up?”
“San Antonio,” she answered. “My mom worked two jobs to keep us afloat after my dad left. Then she died five years back.”
The words came out before she could stop them. She hadn’t planned on revealing something so personal. The urge to quickly change the subject surfaced. “Need help cleaning the dishes?”
He dismissed her offer with a wave of his hand. “That can wait.” Then, leaning forward, he asked pointedly, “Why arson? With your gifted mind, you could have worked anywhere, done anything.”
She’d had this conversation before, with other men. Usually, it was a preamble to a joke, or worse, advice. She kept her answer short. “Like I said, I thought about engineering, but it wasn’t for me. Started in fire forensics and got bored working in a lab all day. Took every certification they’d give me at the county fire department, did three times the work of anybody else. Spent four years waiting for a position to open and finally got the job six months ago.” He waited. Didn’t feel the silence, just continued to watch her. She ate a piece of cornbread slowly, then finally continued. “I had a supervisor who used to hand me all the worst cases, then took my name off the reports. A partner who didn’t bother learning my last name, just called me ‘G.’ Once had a witness call in a complaint because I wore a ‘man’s’ field jacket. Got told by a captain I was too intense, made people uncomfortable. Then the department promoted a guy with a DUI and a GED over me. I beat out the next guy on the list simply because I was the only one who could ID an accelerant residue by eyeballing it.”
She looked up, expecting to see amusement or, worse, sympathy. Instead, Brandon’s face was neutral. “That’s a lot of ground to have to hold on your own.”
Desiree shrugged. “It is, but it’s worth it. I love this job—I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
She studied him, the green eyes, the way he held his spoon as if he might break it in half. She wanted to ask about his father, about the cold case and how he dealt with being a ghost in his own story. But she let it go, not wanting to break her own rule about bringing up their case. “You always cook chili for your guests?” She asked instead.
He smiled, lines creasing at the corners of his mouth. “You’re the first.”
She looked around. The living room was sparse with only a bookshelf with more fire science than fiction, a battered recliner, and a wall lined with photos—Sweet Bloom’s fire crews, year after year, some with Brandon’s face, some with the man she knew must be his father.
Desiree sipped her tea, realized for the first time she didn’t want to talk about the arsonist, or the pressure of the case, or even the fact that she was probably going to get rotated back to Austin as soon as this wrapped. She wanted to sit in the warmth a little longer and enjoy being with Brandon. “Thanks for inviting me over tonight. This was nice. Unusual for me, but nice.” She tapped the table with her spoon. “You know, normally I’m not very good at this.”
“At what?” He questioned with a furrow of his brows.
She gestured vaguely. “Eating dinner with someone. Not treating every conversation like an interview.”
He chuckled. “I get it. Sometimes it’s hard to turn off work, but you seemed to do pretty good at it tonight.”
“Must be the company,” she told him, letting herself genuine smile for the first time in a long time.
He looked at her, and for a second, she felt it—the distance between where she’d been and where she was now, here at this table, in this town, with this man.
She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with how he made her feel. “We should probably get back to work.”
He didn’t move. “Or we could let the case wait until tomorrow. Tonight, I have somewhere I want to take you.”
It didn’t take long before Sweet Bloom’s town circle came into view. The place was packed with townsfolk gathered around the giant Christmas tree as the choir warmed up—middle schoolers in red scarves, half of them fidgeting, the other half craning to spot their parents in the crowd.
The mayor was working the park, shaking hands, posing for pictures with the giant candy cane. Kids buzzed around the wishing well, trying to hook coins from the false bottom. Everyone had a cup of hot chocolate from the church auxiliary; the scent of toasting s’mores hung over everything.
“Welcome to Sweet Bloom’s tree lighting ceremony,” he announced as he gestured around them.
Brandon bought them both a cup of cocoa from a woman in a festive apron. Desiree kept her head down, nodded thanks, and drifted toward the edge of the park where the crowd was thinner.
