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I shake my head with a low laugh.

“Right. I forgot you’d done your research.”

“Strictly for safety purposes.”

“Of course.”

“I needed to make sure you weren’t secretly eighty years old.”

“Disappointed?”

“Only a little.”

I laugh.

“I’ve been with Dallas Fire Rescue for almost nine years now.”

“Do you like it?”

The question lands differently than I expect. Most people ask what it’s like, or if it’s scary. They want stories. Olivia asks if I like it.

“I do.” The answer comes easily. “It’s hard sometimes, though.”

I glance down at the coffee in my hands before looking back at her. “But helping people never gets old.”

She holds my gaze for a second, like she’s deciding whether she believes me.

Apparently she does.

“Okay,” she says. “Enough about you.”

“I don’t think we’ve talked that much about me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

She tilts her head. “Want to guess what I do for a living?”

I lean back in my chair. “You’re going to make me guess?”

“I am.”

“Do I get clues?”

“Nope.”

“That’s not very fair.”

“I know.”

I pretend to think it over for a second.

“Teacher.”

She wrinkles her nose. “No.”

“Hmm.” I study her for a moment. “Accountant?”