Page 58 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

“All right. Before I call your mother and all the titas, spill.”

I can picture Meghan in her scrubs, probably sitting in her car, arms crossed as she gives me a stern stare worthy of Tita Carla.

“The day I missed the cruise, Chopin was up a tree. The hot firefighter who saved him? That’s the guy who just rocked my world all afternoon and most of the night. He’s sweet, he’s shy, he loves the piano, he’s built like a mountain of Greek god, he loves my cat—oh, he made Chopin his own little breakfast plate of lox yesterday—and he’s hung like a firehose. I am living my best life. And I love him. Hit me with all the lectures.”

To my surprise, Meghan doesn’t hit me with anything but a soft sniffle. “Really? You love him?”

“He loves me, too. He doesn’t have any family, and everyone in town knows him and respects him. He’s such a thoroughly good person. But I’m not being blinded by love or infatuation.” I hope. “I know he has faults. He grew up in a very... Well, almost like an isolated cult. He has a lot to learn about pop culture. He’s socially awkward. He would just grunt at small talk, and he’s the definition of the ‘strong, silent’ type.”

“But he made you brunch in bed and just cheerfully volunteered to clean the cat box. If he knows his way around the va-jay-jay zones, I’d keep him.”

I look towards the door. I can hear Gordon’s voice, that deep, steady rumble, and it’s far enough away for me to know that he's talking to Chopin, or maybe making a phone call to the station, from the living room. In a conspiratorial whisper, I hiss, “Best sex ever. Ever, ever, ever. Like, the bar wasn’t high before, but it’s going to be skyscraper high now.” I close my eyes and hug myself, remembering how Gordon woke me in the middle of the night with soft kisses on my neck, just hugging me so tight. Hugs slowly turned into massages, and then the most steady, sweet, deliberate exploration of every inch of me. His little whispers of how lucky he was to have me, how much he loved me, how I was his dream come true.

He melted my heart a hundred times over, and unlike some slick guy with a smooth line, I knew Gordon was being sincere. Sweet. Gentle.

Before he turned me into a howling wildcat with rounds of sex that left puddles on the sheets and may have caused a partial blackout.

I clear my throat to stop thinking about last night. For one thing, my pussy starts to throb at the thoughts, and that actually hurts. Everything got stretched to new limits down there, and I bet if I tried walking, I’d look like one of those bow-legged cowboys from the Old West.

“You zoned out on me. Are you doing something freaky, you crazy bitch?” Meghan gasps.

“No! No, Gordon left the room, and don’t get me started on freaky things. Danica told me she has enough dirt on you and Shane from the cruise to blackmail you for life.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s kind of a mutual threat, though. All of us did some highly questionable things.”

“I’m not questioning what I did. I’m proud to be with Gordon... But I was thinking about last night and realizing that if I try to get up, my legs will probably collapse.”

“Yep. Husband him up.” Meghan giggles. “So, have you told your parents?”

“That I was with him on the 4th of July, yes, and that we were dating. I didn’t tell them all of this stuff, obviously. Mom would die. Dad would go after him with one of his aviation wrenches. Gordon would probably just look slightly pained, and not even bruise.

“When do they meet him?”

“Soon,” I say, and shrug. I’m not letting Gordon go. My parents will like him. He’s a solid citizen, and no, he’s not a CPA or CEO, but he’s solid, mature, and a real-live hero. He has his own home. He’s incredibly intelligent, too. I can tell by how fast he picks things up, not to mention all he had to learn of the world to survive, and he had no real help to do it.

“What’s he look like? Send pics!”

I scroll through my phone. I did take a picture on the night of the fireworks, the two of us standing in front of the firetruck. I hit send, wondering what our selfie will look like to Meghan. I look at it now and can tell Gordon is a troll; I can clearly see the greenish skin and the tusks. Two nights ago, when that photo was taken—he looked human to me.

Meghan squeals. I hold my breath. I don’t know if that’s a squeal of delight or shock. “What?” I whisper.

“You bagged a total hottie! And like, I’m talking Daddy. How old is he?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Oh, God, he’s financially and emotionally mature, and he has a jawline like that? I’m dying. I’m dying of jealousy. I want to move to Pine Ridge and get me one of those.”

“Stop,” I giggle. “What about Mr. Harvard Law?”

“He’s Mr. Sends Casual Texts if I text him first. The sex was only good on vacation, too, I’ve come to realize. Like, if I have to be drunk to enjoy it, it probably wasn’t worth shaving my legs.”

I have to fight to stuff down the urge to brag. Gordon loves me smoke-ravaged and blistered. Gordon shampooed my hair. If I were covered in fur, Gordon would love me, and probably brush me so I didn’t get hairballs. “Yep. He’s a keeper. Oh, he bought me little music note earrings. For no reason at all.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll send you pictures—once I can actually stand up.”

“My Andrea? You can’t stand? Did I... Did I strain your muscles?” Gordon peeps his head around the door with a worried look.