Chapter 9

9

EMMA

I ’ve had a variety of jobs since I turned sixteen, and the good ones always come down to having a good boss, and a clear focus.

Desire is an angel, letting me take the day off to help prepare Crow’s shop for this afternoon. Maybe it’s the small-town attitude, but everyone around here is always so gosh-darn eager to help. When I need to move the picnic table out front, I simply wave to two big lumberjack types and they’re happy to march the table around from the back of the shop to the front sidewalk.

After a couple of runs to the dollar store and one to the art store, I have everything set up. I feel a little guilty for digging around behind the counter to find an extra box of business cards, but I want people to check out the website.

Everything is all set to go by two-thirty. Yet there’s still no text from Crow. Should I begin to worry?

He’s been gone for hours. He didn’t say what kind of a call it was. I guess it could be anything from a teensy kitchen fire like the one I had, to an entire building full of people.

People that Crow will have to run in and save.

I have no doubt that he’ll do an amazing job, but… a deep shiver runs through me. He isn’t allowed to get hurt. Nobody would let that happen, right? He said that they have a bunch of safety gear. Regular training. It sounded like there were a whole bunch of guys.

Then again, they’re spread all over “the triangle” area. What if he’s the only one to show up in time?

After a few deep breaths, I try to pay attention instead to what I can control. Making sure people take a look at all of the offerings of Crow’s shop, so that they get a good feeling about the place. They should also know how great a guy he is. Grabbing my phone, I send a text.

I don’t know if you’ll get this in time, but please try to wear your firefighter t-shirt to this thing when you’re able to come by.

A few hours later, I don’t even have time to worry. Thankfully, the cash register is the same as the clothing store I used to work at, and the key was on the same key ring.

After I paint yet another pink and purple butterfly on a little girl’s face, a boy sits down in front of me. “Can you do a big scary spider? I don’t want anything girlie.”

“One scary spider coming right up. But first, raise your right hand and take an oath.” He giggles as he lifts his slightly chocolate stained hand. “I will not get a real tattoo until I’m at least eighteen years old, and I will still ask my parents for permission first. Got it?”

“Got it.”

I’m just starting the body of the spider when I feel a presence behind me. “You’re doing an amazing job.” I don’t even have to look up. A familiar hand lands on my shoulder, and I’m flooded with relief. “This is fantastic, Emma.”

Once I hit a spot in the design where I can pause, I look up to see Crow in a deep green t-shirt with the VFFT logo stretched across his broad chest. His hair is still damp. “Sorry I’m late – I had to take a quick shower before getting down here.”

“No problem.” I point to the container of markers at the other end of the table, then holler toward the crowd in general, “Who here wants a fake tattoo drawn by a real tattoo artist?”

A line of eager teenagers forms in front of him, and I continue painting the little kids.

Around forty minutes later, when we finally have a break, I lean over to him and grin. “By the way, I sold nine t-shirts and two wristbands. Plus, a couple of people are going to contact you next week about getting quotes on tattoos. One of them said he’s going to come by to get you to draw it on him in marker today so he can think about it over the weekend.”

Crow’s intense dark eyes widen in disbelief as he shakes his head slowly. “Emma, you are a wonder.”

A little girl with brown pigtails who looks to be about seven sits down in front of me, then looks back and forth between us. She leans in and loudly whispers, “He really likes you.”

“You think so?”

She nods eagerly, then turns her head so I can paint a huge glittery purple flower on her cheek.

In between painting kids’ faces, admiring the teenagers’ new “ink” and running into the shop to sell a few more t-shirts and sunglasses, I watch Crow very carefully. He’s chatting brightly with everyone as if he’s completely in his element.

He looks keyed up, too. A little hyper. I wonder if that’s the adrenaline rush of whatever call he was just on.

By the time people thin out just after six o’clock, I’m finally able to stand close beside him and lower my voice slightly. “Am I allowed to ask what kind of call it was, or is that stuff confidential?”

He smiles, wrapping a strong arm around me. “Every call ends up in the public record, so I can tell you. It was a barn fire. A farmer’s son’s idiot friend was smoking right next to the straw. The farmer had it partly under control by the time we got there, so it wasn’t that bad. There was just a lot of triple checking and cleanup afterward.”

“Are the animals?—”

“They’re all fine. No casualties at all.” He kisses the top of my head. “Well, Liam got a splinter. But he’s a tough guy. He’ll live.”

He’s making light of a serious situation, so I decide to follow suit. Nuzzling into his shoulder, I breathe in his subtle masculine scent. “Do you ever end up smelling like a campfire?”

His chuckle shakes me a bit. “That’s one of the reasons I use pine soap, hoping that the smoke will blend in and make it a general forest vibe.”

We put everything away and tidy up, and then once we’re inside the shop, Crow wraps his arms around me. “It will take days to thank you enough, gorgeous, but can I start by making you dinner at my place? Does that sound okay?”

“Amazing.”

There’s something in the way his hand slips up and down my back. The way he grips my hips and looks so intensely into my eyes. He’s hungry, but not for dinner. Funny, me too.

If the sexiest man I’ve ever met is right here in front of me, I think it’s time to start crossing a bunch of the lines that I didn’t think I would get to for years.

Tonight.