Page 3 of On Fire

He unnerved me. A difficult thing to do.

After assuring me Luke is doing well, Claire grins. “Yes, I think my sister and Keller have worked things out. I also think he may be a little terrified of her.”

I lean back on the upholstered seat and try to appear casual. “I haven’t talked with him in a while. How’s he doing?”

Finn raises an eyebrow. “Fine, I think. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Wondering” is an understatement. I think I’ve thought about the guy nearly every day since last Thanksgiving when we all assembled at The Inn. He’s the local fire chief in Echo Bay. Six-five, big-boned, muscled, and adorable. He’s also unlike any man I’ve ever met. There’s something almost child-like about him one minute and then the next, he’s a hard-as-nails-we-got-a-job-to-do professional.

The last time I tried to have a meaningful conversation with him, something went wrong and he vanished. Ever since, I’ve been left with a horrible feeling of something missing, like I’ve been cut off from something, but I don’t even know what. The few times we worked together after that, he avoided me.

Keller doesn’t understand how damned hot he is. But I do.

I can’t feed the conversation about Keller enough without being obvious and have to be content with generalities.

This is both frustrating and my own fault. I could be more specific but being more specific is sometimes not prudent. Every time I think about the guy, I get a flutter in my stomach. I go over and over what I said to him on the beach, and it was nothing. He was wearing a ‘80s suit the morning Devon and Luke renewed their vows, blowing his nose and red-eyed.

He was holding a plate of wedding cake when I walked up to him and said, “Love is beautiful.”

That shut him down. Within three minutes, he’d left. I blew it somehow, and I can’t let that happen again. Sitting here, watching Finn and Claire together, I resolve to be more direct the next time Keller and I meet.

Afterwards, I invite the couple back to my place for a non-alcoholic nightcap of kombucha.

With the sun still setting late, it’s just twilight at nearly nine. The streets are not as heavy with rush hour traffic. The three-block walk to my apartment is uneventful until Finn grabs Claire’s elbow when she steps off the curb and starts to cross the street prematurely. He hauls her back onto the curb.

The driver honks and looks wild-eyed as he flies by.

“Preggo brain is real,” she says to me.

As we enter my apartment building, a dark glass and steel affair, Finn suggests we try Jackson Dawes, a kid I hired three years ago for the firm. We both live within walking distance of the Handcock Building, and it would be nice to have him over. I text and get no answer. He’s not working now, nursing an injury taking care of a client, Tory Sparrow. In fact, he's probably down on Cape Cod with her, hanging out at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute where she works.

I usually take the stairs, but with Claire pregnant, an elevator seems a better choice. Finn presses #4.

“I’ve only been to your place once before,” she says, stepping out of the elevator. Grinning. Anything to do with my life delights her. I have no idea why.

That grin turns to confusion after she’s been in my place for ten minutes. I can see it in her face. The place is neatly appointed, with a charcoal gray leather couch and two matching chairs, plain walls, granite counters in the kitchen and state-of-the-art appliances.

But she says nothing.

After an hour, conversation turns to business and Claire begins to nod off.

Scooting down so she’s on her side, she nestles her head in Finn’s lap and I drape a white throw over her. Finn tucks it around her shoulders. Interlocking fingers, he whispers something in her ear and her whole body relaxes into a light sleep. As she gently breathes, he strokes her hair back from her face.

“Do you believe this happened?” his gaze not leaving her face.

“Yeah, I do.”

Finn stretches his legs out, careful not to jostle Claire’s head. “Listen. I need to apologize for something I said a while ago.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do. I accused you of not wanting to protect her. Of not taking the threats against her seriously.”

I lift a hand to stop him, but he keeps going.

“I never should have said that.”