Page 31 of Ask Me For Fire


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Barrett was joking again, with only a tiny splinter of self-consciousness. But the way Ambrose looked at him as he said, “Sure I wouldn’t be too much? I’m not exactly the kind of company that can match in the appearance department,” made him regret his words.

Ambrose leaned forward, the movement sharp, almost cutting. He cocked his head and Barrett watched his hair brush his shoulder. Auburn against a dark grey waffle henley that was soft and faded from years of washings. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off, Barrett, but do you not realize how you look to others?”

Barrett froze. Cold spread over the back of his neck and old, old memories he’d long shelved rushed back. He’d always been too big, too tall, too hairy. First to grow a beard in middle school. First to get over six feet tall. He never fit in the desks, so he had to sit at an old table on a slightly wobbly chair that creaked every time he breathed too hard.

“Depends on the adjectives you use,” he muttered.

Now a hand settled on his and the intent, intense look in Ambrose’s eyes made him snap his mouth shut. “I see someone who so easily reflects his generous nature, it’s like it lives in every fiber of your being.” He gestured to the table. “You give your time and your dedication to having drinks with someone you’ve only known a few months. You spend your days looking out for the well-being of others, human and animal. You visit your sister and nephew every weekend and let Dandi haul you around.”

At that, Dandi lifted her head and softly boofed. They both laughed, though Barrett’s was a little watery.

Ambrose wasn’t done, however. “You spend so much time helping others. I see someone who could use a little care himself.” And then he sat back in his chair, drained his drink, and said, “So unless you really want to fight me on all of that, or call me a liar, I think I’m right here, Barrett.”

He swallowed against a thick feeling in his throat. “No, not going to fight you. Don’t see what good it would do, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

“Ouch. I see we are comfortable enough for insults,” Ambrose teased back. “I’ll have to think of a good one.”

“Text it to me.”

“Oh, texting insults? How modern. I might be too luddite for that, you know.”

As their laughter faded and the pop of the fire overtook the silence that gathered afterwards, Barrett understood, swiftly and suddenly, how comfortable he was. Not just in the chair, which was fantastic. But with Ambrose. He hadn’t felt that since Perry. But then again, he’d never been physically attracted to Perry. So that realization bit with an edge that left him feeling overly warm. It made something twitch low in his belly and he pushed it aside, but it would be there later. Waiting.

As he got up to get a cold water bottle from the fridge, Dandi stood and stretched before pattering after him. “This is nice,” he said as he turned back. “For two grouchy loners, we’re doing all right, I think.”

“Just all right?”

Fuck. The way Ambrose was staring at him made that coil in his gut tighten more. He shook it off, but wondered how many more times he’d be able to do that before it was too much. In truth, he needed a friend like Ambrose: stern but real, funny in a dry, dark kind of way. Slow to open up, to trust, but when he did…it was like finding buried treasure. Barrett could see that as plain as day, even if Ambrose couldn’t or wouldn’t.

“Well, like I said, for two grouchy loners…” He came back to his chair and plopped down. Raised his bottle in a toast. “To lakeside living and being alone, until you don’t want to be.”

“Couldn’t have said it better, my friend.” Ambrose smiled and for one moment, Barrett felt its warmth like the brightest, hottest day in summer.

When Barrett’s phone buzzed ten minutes later, he was in the middle of a story about the first time he and Meredith saw wolf pups. “Shit,” Barrett said as he read the message. “Sorry, work emergency.”

Ambrose immediately sat forward in his chair. “Not another bridge, I hope.”

“No, and we still don’t know who did it. But at least now the bridges are all reinforced.” Barrett tapped his phone in disgust. “But someone stole the generator from the firewatch tower you and I holed up in during that storm. Fuck.”

Ambrose’s brow creased. “Do you think it’s connected?”

“Who knows? Or it’s some down on their luck resident that needs the generator and doesn’t want to steal from a neighbor. Same thing happened when copper prices shot up a few years back. We had a lot of pipes stolen, a lot of damage.” He sighed, swiped a hand down his face. “I can’t blame ’em. The shit economy, no jobs unless you can drive to at least the next town over. But that’s if your car works, or you have one.” Barrett glanced at Dandi, who had one ear cocked his direction. “You gonna be good while I’m gone?”

Ambrose was on his feet instantly, much to his and Dandi’s surprise. “I can take her. I’ve got a few edits to make on some poems and this.” He dug in the bag that had held fresh greens from a local grower; greens he’d shared with Barrett. And now he held out a folded letter. “Raf’s business partners with an indie publisher near him, and they’re interested in Perry’s illustrations. I was hoping to dig through that box again, see if there’s any that might be fitting to scan and to send as samples.” He nodded at Dandi, whose tail was thumping on the floor. “She can keep me company.”

Barrett found himself, once again, incredibly grateful for Ambrose taking the lead on the illustration project. He’d lingered over those drawings for months but could never find the energy to let them go. Ambrose, when latched onto a project, was all business and it was freeing to have someone else take charge for once. “Thank you,” he said softly before hustling to gather his things and pull on his gear. “She loves your house. Must be all those pie smells.”

Ambrose flushed. “You say that like I’m making pies all day, every day.”

“Enough that I can smell it on the regular.”

He huffed and crossed his arms, but that angular, fascinating face was wide open. Barrett could be pressed to say it even looked a little likepleasureacross perfectly symmetrical features. “I stress bake,” he proclaimed, arms spread wide. “I can’t help it. Carbs are known to help the brain process in times of focus.”

“Uh huh.” Barrett wasn’t buying it for one minute, and he hoped his smile conveyed that. It was better than letting his face show how much he enjoyed watching Ambrose be playful. “Well, don’t feed her too much pie crust or I’ll be walking her at three am.”

Ambrose pulled a face. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Now go, I’ll lock up. I want to grab her leash and a toy before we go home.”

And just like that, Ambrose was stooping to grab a battered stuffie from under the coffee table while Dandi sniffed at his knee. It was so shockinglydomesticBarrett paused to watch. Then his phone buzzed again, this message more urgent.

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