Page 18 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
I’m reminded of the feel of his body against mine, which tells me I’m already invested. I think that happened the first morning I met him.
Grant and Grady laugh at something in the kitchen before the door slams and their voices carry outside.
And I’m left contemplating the contradiction that is Grady Malone.
The knock on the door comes moments before the handle pushes open, and Grady stands on the threshold staring at me.
“How’s it going?” His voice is quiet as if he’s afraid he’s intruding.
I look up from where I’m sitting on the floor, my guitar resting on my lap and several pads of paper in front of me. He looks fresh from the shower and is wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a blue Sunnyville Fire Department shirt, which makes his eyes look like they are translucent.
“It’s going.” I sigh. “Slower today than others, but I’ve had some distractions.”
Like you.
“Petunia and I were about to have a BLT, do you want one?”
“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start.” I laugh.
“Can’t protect the children from the world’s tough reality all the time, now can we? It would be a disservice to them.” I shake my head all the while loving the humor lighting up his eyes. “So yes, no, I don’t ever eat, I’m still on that hunger strike . . . what’ll it be?”
Glancing around at the crumpled pieces of notebook paper strewn around me, and the nearly blank pages in front of me, I heave a silent sigh. If I take a break for a bit and get some fresh air, it isn’t as if it will impede my nonexistent creative process right now.
“Sure.”
His smile lights up his face and makes me feel good. At least I can make one person happy. “I’ll give you a minute to get ready.”
“Get ready?”
“It’s Farmers’ Market Thursday.”
It’s Thursday?
Wow. I guess the past few days filled with little sleep and even less creativity have melded together. I definitely need to get out.
“Oh.”
“Yes, and it’s four in the afternoon.” He shakes his head as if he’s worried about me. “You need to get out more.”
“I guess I do.” I roll my shoulders. “And you go there to get BLTs?”
“I do, yes, but Petunia passes on the sandwich.” He glances toward where she is rooting around. “We always go when I’m not on shift.”
“Your pig is your date?”
“No.” He lowers his voice. “She thinks she is, but we don’t want to hurt her feelings. Burnt bacon is never a good thing.”
And lucky for Petunia’s feelings, they’re fresh out of bacon at the BLT stand when we get there, so Grady and I opt for corn dogs and French fries to eat while we walk around.
“I finally got you out of the house,” he says as he holds out the container of fries to me.
“I’ve left before.”
“When?”
“When we had breakfast. Then, the other day, I went to the store, and last night, I went for a walk. I’ve ventured,” I say, feeling like an idiot having to admit that’s about all I’ve done since I’ve moved here.
“Living the high life, are we?” he teases, and the smile comes easily to my lips.
