From Air (Wildfire)

Chapter Two

CALVIN

A white Jeep with Florida plates occupies my parking spot. I grumble and pull my truck onto the street. I like order and routine when I can have it, but I live with two people who are routinely out of order.

When I push open the squeaky door, Will’s perched in his usual spot on the sofa’s edge, remote in hand, zoned in on his PlayStation game. The brown leather is worn to a little bit of nothing on that side. He barely turns his head in acknowledgment; it’s more like a flinch that doesn’t require more than 1 percent of his attention.

“Why is there a Jeep in my spot? Is there a naked girl from Florida in your bed while you’re playing games?” I drop a K-Cup into my life support machine. It’s almost five o’clock—which happens to be my coffee cutoff time in the winter.

“I forgot to tell her where to park. And she’s not in my bed.” When his avatar dies, he hurls his remote across the room with a few expletives.

It’s hard to believe he’s thirty-seven and not seventeen.

“Then where is she?” I snatch my blue YETI Rambler mug from the shelf. “Finishing the job in the shower?”

“Fuck you, Fitz. I get the job done.” He ambles into the kitchen, snags a bottle of lager from the fridge, and twists off the top. “The Jeep belongs to our new roommate. She’s nice. She’s normal. Don’t piss her off.”

Pressing my hands against the counter’s edge, I arch my back and roll my stiff neck. “How would I do that?”

The sliding door opens, and a woman in light-gray leggings and a white sweater that engulfs her body steps inside. Big brown eyes land on me, and she curls her dark, pin-straight hair behind her ear on one side. It doesn’t tame the static, as clumps and strands still cling to her face and stand out in all directions. Her glossed lips rub together before she offers me a shy smile beneath a butterfly of freckles along her nose and sun-kissed cheeks.

As soon as I realize I’m focusing on freckles and thinking the words sun-kissed cheeks , I avert my gaze and clear my throat. “You’re parked in my spot.”

Will slaps my shoulder. “Just like that, Fitz. Good job.”

“Yes. Sorry.” She holds up a key. “I was just going to move it. Where do you want me to park?”

“Anywhere but in my spot.” I offer the most direct and helpful solution—the most obvious one.

Will coughs the word asshole . Then he snags her key. “I’ll get you parked on the street. When Maren moves out and Fitz’s parachute fails him, you can park in the driveway beside me.”

“I have a backup chute,” I inform Captain Dumbass before sipping my coffee. Will’s a blowhard disguised as a suck-up.

There’s a reason he’s still single. And it has nothing to do with his job, unlike me. I’m happily married to mine.

“Fitz, just stop talking. Go read a book.” Will shoves his feet into his black boots and exits the front door.

“I’m Jaymes Andrews. You can call me Jamie or Wretched Woman Who Parks in the Wrong Spot. Whatever works.” Her hand floats in the air between us along with the hint of something sweet, like a fruity body spray or perfume.

I don’t think I’ve ever shaken hands with Will or Maren. But I’m not the asshole they think I am, so I shake her hand. If only my other roommates were here to witness my cordialness, it might earn me a little reprieve from their whininess about my disregard for human contact.

Jamie has small hands, or maybe that oversize sweater makes everything about her seem dainty.

“I’m Calvin.”

Her eyebrows lift a fraction. “Not Fitz?”

“Calvin Fitzgerald.”

“Do you prefer Calvin or Fitz?”

I shrug, tucking one hand into my back pocket. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Well ...” She points toward the stairs. “I just came inside to use the bathroom. I’ll try to keep my hydration to a minimum so as not to disturb you.” Her lips twitch.

Is she mocking me? I’m well versed in childish mockery, thanks to those other two.

“I can get you a five-gallon bucket if you tire of trekking through the snow.” I hide my grin behind my YETI mug.

Jamie ascends the stairs. “Before I left Florida five days ago, I’d only seen snow once. It will be a while before I tire of trekking through it.”

Once?

“Did you scare her off already?” Will kicks off his boots and brushes the snow from his hair.

“Scared the piss out of her. She scurried up the stairs to the bathroom. You really should add a toilet and sink in the laundry room.” Suddenly, I’m concerned about the new girl climbing stairs to use the toilet. What is wrong with me?

Will retrieves the remote he threw across the room. “She looks like she’s lived on the beach in a bikini for the past two decades.”

“Yes. She’s tan.” Eyeing Will, I wait for him to look at me. “And young.”

He smirks. “She’s twenty-five.”

I lift my brows.

“What?” He puffs out his chest.

“Don’t fuck the new roommate. House rules.”

It’s the rule that he made because he let his dick ruin a good situation in the past.

“Pfft.” He sips his beer. “Twenty-five. That’s twelve years younger than me and ten younger than you, Fitz. Damn, that makes me feel old.”

“Are you talking about me?” Jamie skips down the stairs with the confidence of someone who’s lived here for years—like Maren.

Great. Just what we need: another spitfire woman.

“We were talking about your tan.” Will smiles. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m good. I’ll run to the store soon.” Her lips corkscrew while she’s tapping her fingers on the back of the sofa. “Once I search up the nearest store on my map app.”

“Go with Fitz.” Will gestures at me with his beer.

I shake my head. “I’m not going.”

Will tries to call me out with a knowing smirk. My eyes narrow in his direction. He mirrors my expression. He’s dense, with the subtlety of an elephant.

“Fitz, you go every Wednesday at six thirty if you’re home. You’re so predictable it’s nauseating.” Pleasure bleeds from Will’s words. I’m his favorite target.

And he’s mine.

I peek at my watch. “Don’t you have your ballet class soon?”

“Tai chi, asshole,” Will corrects me. “And yeah, I need to get going.” He tosses his empty bottle in the bin. “Maren should be home soon. If I were you, I’d stay in the shed until then. But then again, you’re used to the mentally unstable. Maybe you can fix Fitz for us.” He winks at Jamie before jogging up the stairs.

Jamie leans against the back of the sofa, arms crossed. “Fix Fitz? Are you broken, Calvin Fitzgerald?”

“Do I look broken?”

Her head tilts to the side. “Not the kind of broken I’m used to seeing. So I won’t judge you yet .” She grins.

It’s a pleasant grin, and I berate myself for thinking that the second it pops into my head.

Freckles.

Pleasant grins.

Jesus, I need sleep.

“I’ve lived a sheltered life, so you might be perfectly normal for someone who jumps out of planes to fight wildfires with a big axe.”

“Yes.” I rub my neck. “I gathered that from the snow revelation. And that big axe is called a Pulaski.”

“Oh, the snow.” She sighs. “I’m in love with snow. Who knew? I’m in love with the mountains. I’ve lived in Florida my whole life. And I was homeschooled until I attended college. So, yeah”—her nose scrunches—“sheltered.”

“Homeschooled?” Will’s silvery voice rides my nerves as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. “Holy shit, Fitz. She’s your soulmate.”

Jamie regards me with twisted lips and expectant eyes.

“Fitz was homeschooled. I’ve always assumed that’s why he’s socially awkward.” Will retrieves a bottle of water from the fridge. “But now I must develop a new theory, since you’re perfectly normal, Jamie.” He slides on a black hoodie and grabs his keys. “Be good, kids.”

“Bye,” Jamie says, because she doesn’t know that acknowledging Will on any level only encourages his obnoxious behavior. Her attention returns to me while I dump the last few sips of my coffee into the sink and rinse my mug.

“You’re a fixer?” I ask.

“What?”

I peer over my shoulder. “Will suggested you could fix me, even though I’m not broken.”

“Oh.” She nods, climbing onto a barstool. “I’m a nurse. I took a temporary job here at a psychiatric clinic. The doctors fix people. I just help keep people alive, comfortable, and medicated. And working with psych patients is extra rewarding. So many of them have been abandoned by friends and loved ones. I feel like I’m their advocate, the one person who sees them regularly and cares for them.”

“I see.” I dry the mug and hang the towel over the dishwasher handle. “Well, I have to run to the store—”

Shit. I can’t walk that back. Now she knows I’m a liar.

Jamie hops off the barstool and eyes me with a tiny grin while fiddling with her gold pendant necklace. “I get it. You like alone time. Grocery shopping isn’t exactly a team sport. I’m not a social butterfly either. What’s your sign?”

“Sign?”

“Zodiac sign.”

Is she serious? Do I seem like the kind of guy who knows my sign?

“Smoke jumper. Loner. Grouchy.” Her finger taps her bottom lip.

Grouchy? What the fuck?

“Capricorn?”

“Again, I’m standing here not knowing what you’re talking about. And I feel like a dick after the grocery store comment. So help me not be a dick by just getting to the point.”

Her eyes widen. “Total Capricorn. Did you just have a birthday? Or is your birthday coming up in the next week or so?”

What is she? A psychic?

“December 28.”

She doesn’t even act surprised that she made a lucky guess. “I’m a Virgo, so I respect solitude too. Later, Calvin.”

“If you want to go to the store with me—”

“Nope.” She putters to the sliding door and lobs a grin in my direction. “I don’t want to go with you. Maybe because I don’t want you judging me for my food choices, or maybe you are a dick. It’s too soon to say.”