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“So you think you’re coming back?”
“Depends,” Simon said, wiggling his eyebrows. “On whether or not you land your man and need my help on the particulars.”
“Oh, I’ll land him.”
Simon crossed both his arms on the table and studied her. “You want this badly. Why?”
Jordan had been about to take a bite of the grilled cheese but set it aside irritably at his question. “Why do people keep asking me that?”
Simon’s head tilted curiously. “Who else asked you that?”
“Luke,” she muttered.
“Interesting.” Simon managed to turn the word into about ten syllables. “What did you tell him?”
“That it’s my job,” she said, her voice a bit testy in an effort to end the conversation. But Simon knew her too well. He waggled a finger at her.
“Nope. Don’t get me wrong, you’re good at your job, but you’re not cutthroat, Carpenter. In fact, you know as well as I do that you’re frequently the one letting your boss go too far. So why are you pushing so hard for a guy who clearly wants no part of this?”
It was a fair question. A good question. She just wished she had a good answer.
She took another bite of grilled cheese as she considered, following it with a chip while Simon patiently waited.
Finally, Jordan sighed and gave it her best shot. “He gets under my skin.”
Simon merely smiled, telling Jordan he’d known all along. And his silence had the exact effect he probably intended. Jordan kept talking.
“I’m not used to being ignored,” she admitted. “Having to tell the team that I had no response was more embarrassing than telling them I got a no. Then they sent me here, and he’s been nothing but a jerk, and—”
“And you like him.”
“No,” she said quickly.
“Fine. He intrigues you. Is that safer for your commitment-phobe self?”
Jordan frowned. “I’m not a commitment-phobe. I’ve had plenty of relationships.”
Simon reached across the table. “I know, sweetie. You just don’t let people in is all.”
“What does that have to do with Luke Elliott—” Jordan broke off as a commotion outside the window caught her attention. The Café was just off Main Street, on a primarily residential road that had been quiet when they’d arrived. It wasn’t quiet now. A crowd of people had gathered outside the house across the street, and the unmistakable sound of a siren was getting closer.
“What do you know—not so unlike New York after all,” Simon said, as the wail of the siren grew deafening. A moment later a red fire truck came into view. Jordan’s heart gave a thump as she saw Luke drop down out of the driver’s seat the second it came to a stop, running to the back of the truck along with the rest of the crew. Wasn’t he supposed to be off today?
“Jesus,” Simon muttered. “That is one hot firefighter.”
She pushed her plate aside as she watched the scene unfold. “Tell me that wasn’t a deliberate pun.”
“No, but…oh Jesus. Every last one of them belongs on a naughty calendar.”
She gave him a look with a raised eyebrow. “If you don’t get ahold of yourself, they’re going to have to turn the hose on you.”
Still, she had to admit that her mouth was a bit dry, her pulse a bit faster than it should be. And not just because of all the excitement, but because of…
Luke Elliott.
He and his crew were like a perfectly designed machine as they unloaded their equipment, and it seemed to her that he was at the heart of it. She watched as he calmly shouted orders to his men, watched as he gestured for the crowd to back up and give them room to work.
People responded to him immediately, sensing he was in charge, trusting him to make sure everything would work out.
