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“Kyoji’s like me,” I said. “A transplant from New York.” The proprietor returned with our drinks—Tahitian lemonade and mint iced tea, both in mason jars. “Hey, Ky, tell Faith what you did in NYC.”
“I was a fashion designer.”
Faith stared. “Get out!”
“True story. I had my own line and wasn’t doing too bad. But I was working with a lot of leather, and it started to take a toll on me.”
“So you gave up a life of high fashion in New York City to come here.”
He grinned. “Never looked back. Right, Ash?”
“Amen.”
Faith shook her head, looking as if Martians had landed on the table. “Wow. This place must have magical properties.”
At those words, her fingers went to the pendant hanging from her neck. I’d noticed it a few days ago and would have wagered a million bucks that she’d gotten it from Anna’s shop in Hanalei. But I never asked Faith about it; teasing her about it might make her self-conscious. I knew better than anyone that when you were trying to do better, anyone giving you shit—even well-meaning shit—felt…shitty.
Moreover, the necklace had taken on less spiritual connotations for me—I’d imagined Faith wearing it and nothing else numerous times over the course of my four work days.
Kyoji took our dinner order, and Faith set her elbows on the table, fingers laced.
“Tell me about your job, firefighter. You kept pretty quiet about it on your post-shift visits.”
“Because there hasn’t been much to tell,” I said. “A few heart attack calls, a couple of elderly falls…” I shot her a look. “A tourist or two trying to duck out of the two-mile Ho’opi’i return trip by calling in a chopper.”
“Very funny.” She smirked. “Not many actual fires, is what you’re saying.”
“Not lately.” I knocked on the table. “Mostly medical. We’re all trained EMTs or paramedics. When an ambulance is called, we come too and usually arrive first.”
“First responder,” Faith said, her smile turning sly. “I’m pretty sure that’s one of the sexiest phrases in the English language.”
I took a long pull of my cold tea and her smile brightened; she was clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“What’s the difference between an EMT and a paramedic, anyway?”
“Both are trained in basic life-saving skills, but paramedics perform more procedures.”
“Which are you?”
“Paramedic.”
“Of course, you are. Wait, you told me at the Falls you were an EMT.”
I lifted one shoulder. “Not about to split hairs.”
“So modest,” Faith said. “And are you planning on remaining a paramedic firefighter forever?”
“As long as I’m able. Although my captain wants me to test up to lieutenant.”
“What does a lieutenant do?”
“Runs daily operations, training drills, coordinates emergency responses. When the captain’s out, a lieutenant’s in charge.”
Faith took a sip of her lemonade. “I could see you in charge, barking orders, and making grown men scurry to obey. Like that poor guy at the shave ice table. I thought he was going to break his own leg scrambling to do as you commanded.” She put her lips around her straw and took another pull. “You’re verycommanding.”
Jesus.
“And you’ve got a mouth on you,” I said, my voice low, my eyes on her lips.
