The Anti-Social Season (First Responders #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

Twenty-One

S imon slid into slumber as if Thea’s sleep could tether his own consciousness, tugging it down and away. When he woke up early the next morning, her side of the bed was already empty and he could hear her moving around her little kitchen. He stretched, appreciating again the way the bookshelves that walled off her bedroom created privacy while the gap between them and the ceiling still made the space feel light and airy.

And, well, full of books, which was always a winner with him.

Sitting up, he looked around the room to try to locate his clothes. There was a simple wingback armchair in the corner he hadn’t really noticed before, but now it had a neat stack of his clothes from yesterday.

With a little groan, he pushed to his feet. He was just pulling up the waistband of his boxer briefs when Thea appeared in the doorway, smiling with so much mischief he didn’t know whether to feel excited or nervous.

“What’s up?” he asked, reaching for his shirt. Thea was fully dressed, in jeans and a T-shirt, more casual than what she’d worn to work or for their date.

“I have an idea,” she said, her dark brown eyes positively glittering with excitement.

“Yeah?” A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s about all the prep stuff you love. For the holidays, I mean.”

He shrugged into his shirt and started to button it. “Um, okay. Where are you going with this?”

“And I need content,” she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “I need to prove myself in order to keep this job.”

He finished buttoning and grabbed his pants, shucking them on before sitting on the chair and tugging his socks on. “And?”

She didn’t respond, but just grabbed his hand and tugged him behind her to the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy and good cheer, his sock-clad feet slipping on the hardwood floor as he hurried after her. “Voila,” she said, waving a hand at a bowl that appeared to be full of some sort of batter and what looked like a miniature waffle maker.

“What am I looking at?” he asked.

“A pizzelle maker!” she said, glee in her voice.

He looked from the device to her grinning face. “I must be missing something. What are we doing with it?”

“Besides making delicious pizzelle ? Appliance fire safety demonstration,” she said. “You should always check appliances, and if you only use them once a year, be extra careful. Those kinds of seasonal things tend to get jammed into the backs of cupboards and stuff and the cord can get damaged. But also, pizzelle is yummy and it’s a part of my family’s holiday preparation, so I thought maybe you’d like to make them with me.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest. He felt so intimately seen it almost hurt, and something clicked into place. Yes, he loved holiday prep. But nobody had ever volunteered to do it with him. It was his domain, but it was also his responsibility. Suddenly, Thea was making it fun in a way he hadn’t experienced before. “Sure. What do you need from me?”

She rubbed her hands together, glee practically sparking off her, and something more than warmth spread across his skin. It was like the sparks from her were sent aloft, touching down on him and calling tiny fires alight. “Well, first we do the video. I’ve got some notes here.” She pointed to what he’d thought was a recipe scrawled in her chaotic handwriting. Apparently, it was a shot plan. “Then we make pizzelle . Because everything’s better with sugary carbs.”

Thea wasn’t sure why she was so giddy. Maybe it was the aftereffects of mind-blowing sex and a lovely night’s sleep. Rediscovering Simon’s carnal side was a revelation. She knew she shouldn’t assume anything about anybody and the most buttoned-up exteriors could harbor all kinds of surprises when the clothes came off. But Simon’s rule-following public persona hid some truly shocking creativity when it came to giving her pleasure and seeking it for himself.

She knew her cheeks were pink from the memory of them in her bed, but she hoped it wouldn’t show on camera for the entire world to see. Maybe viewers would just think it was the chilly December weather.

In her home. Right.

She powered through the feeling while Simon filmed her. She demonstrated the best way to store cords if they could be removed from the appliance, talked about keeping an eye on any appliance that heated up, and gave other tips about kitchen fire safety. Holding her phone steady to catch every moment, Simon looked both amused and proud. When she’d run through her script twice and gotten a few close-up shots she intended to use, she finally took back her phone and plugged in the pizzelle maker.

“Now, the deliciousness,” she said.

“So, it’s like a...waffle?” Simon asked.

She goggled at him. “You’ve never had pizzelle ?”

He shook his head. “ Pizzelle virgin here.”

She opened the press and scooped a dollop of batter into it, closing it securely and using her phone to time it. When it was done, she popped it out with a spatula and placed it on a cooling rack.

“Pretty,” he said, examining the patterned surface of the cookie and reaching for it.

She slapped his hand away. “Patience,” she said, proceeding to make a few more thin vanilla-flavored cookies as she explained her family Christmas traditions and how they mostly revolved around food. “Like any good bunch of Italians, if you come to our house during the holidays, you’re going to eat and eat well.” All her best holiday memories revolved around food, in fact. From savory seafood and pasta to sweet pizzelle and panettone, her opinionated, chaotic family was at its most peaceful when eating.

When she had six cookies ready to go, she grabbed a sieve and some powdered sugar and dusted the cookies with it. “Now.” She handed him one of the sugary treats. “Now you can eat it. Careful with the sugar.”

He took a hesitant bite, seeming to hold his breath. Butterflies swooped and swirled through her stomach as she waited, the tender crunch telling her she’d gotten the texture just right. But what if he didn’t like it?

You’ll live , she reminded herself as he chewed slowly and swallowed. Then a smile spread across his face. “I like it. Light. Crunchy. Not too sweet.”

“Right?” she breathed, wondering why she was so relieved that he appreciated one of her favorite treats. Grabbing one for herself, she took a big bite, but in her breathless haste, she made the worst of all rookie mistakes.

She inhaled powdered sugar. Coughing and wheezing, eyes watering, she saw Simon regarding the front of his shirt, which now looked as if he’d just come through a minor snow squall. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” she said, unable to fully repress the giggle that rippled out of her.

“It’s fine.” But his face went a little set, as if he was suppressing something. “I should get going anyway.”

She bit her lip. “You don’t really have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I should get changed before I go into work. I’ve been in the same clothes for hours.”

“Well, technically you were naked for a lot of those hours...”

He huffed a short sigh and she nearly cringed. “Okay,” she said. “Do you want to take any pizzelle home with you?” If he rejected this little peace offering, this tiny bridge between them, she just might cry.

She couldn’t tell if his expression softened or if she just wished it did. But he said, “Yeah. Thanks. That’d be nice.”

Simon retrieved his coat and his shoes from where he’d left them and returned to the kitchen, feeling like a total tool. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, to close down when she laughed at him, and he couldn’t seem to find a way to walk it back.

She handed him a plastic container, not meeting his gaze. “Hey,” he said. Her eyes lifted about to the top button of his shirt. “I had a really good time. I just gotta go. Just a couple more days of work before I have to fly out, so I have a lot to do.”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I mean it.” God, the more he talked, the less convincing he sounded. “Can we maybe do something Friday?”

“Christmas Eve? You’d want to spend that with me?”

“Absolutely. Unless you’re busy.”

This time, her eyes met his. “Not busy. I’d be honored to spend it with you.”

He got that warm feeling again, thawing the hardness he’d felt. “I know it’s silly that I’m going out for no time at all, but that’s the deal I made. And Noah’s only going to ask ‘why?’ every minute of the day for a little while, right? Can’t miss that.”

The look she shot him held some of the humor that he was so used to, but she didn’t reply.

“Right? Please tell me this stage is short-lived,” he pleaded.

She lifted a hand, laughing a little. “Yeah. He won’t be that way forever. Probably will have outgrown it in six months or less.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I’d hate for him to go on a job interview and just ask why all the time. He’d be unemployed forever.”

“Get out of here,” she said, pushing his shoulder a little. “Go to work.”

“I’ll see you Saturday?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I have to pack in the morning, but my evening is all yours.” Now that she was pushing him to leave, perversely, he wanted to stay.

“It sucks that you have to keep librarian-ing,” she said. “You’re awful good at this social media stuff.”

A pang went through him at her faith in him, but weirdly, he had the urge to argue with her as well. Her support threw a spotlight on aspects of his job he didn’t always think about. “It might be harder to be plugged in to everything that goes on if I was social media full-time. When I straddle both worlds, maybe it’s more organic. Anyway, the funding just isn’t there for it, at least not now. It is what it is.” He bent and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. “I’ll see you Saturday. And when I get back from California, we can regroup. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, giving a firm little nod as if to put a seal on their agreement.

He walked out into the cold, wondering if he was ever going to figure out how to successfully be with someone.

Thea made pizzelle until she was out of batter, then cleaned up the kitchen, feeling oddly restless. Her little home seemed too large, too empty without Simon in it. She puttered aimlessly, tidying up as much as her somewhat spartan space needed, which wasn’t much.

“Ugh.” She slapped her hands on her thighs. “Enough of this.” She was going to end up running in endless mental circles if she didn’t stop it now.

The only solution was to do something. And she had exactly the idea to distract herself. Grabbing her bag and her keys, she shoved her feet into boots and shrugged on her coat as if someone was standing over her with a stopwatch. Then she dashed out to her car and hurled herself in before she could think twice. Thea could see Mrs. M’s big showpiece Christmas tree in the bay window as she drove past the front of the house.

For the first time, Thea was going to have her very own tree. When she’d split her time between her little house and the fire station and hadn’t been home as much, it hadn’t seemed to make sense. But now? Especially when she could share it with Simon? It made all the sense in the world.

Trundling down the road to the garden center, she envisioned it in her mind’s eye. A small one, smelling of fresh evergreen and twinkling with colored lights. She had a small cache of ornaments that her parents had collected for her since she was born so she’d be able to decorate her own tree when she got one. She’d need to buy those lights though. Compiling a mental list, she whistled “Here Comes Santa Claus” as she pulled into the garden center and parked.

Hopping out, she took a whiff of the wood-fired brazier and the resinous smell of cut fir before she wandered the little lot, examining as many of their smaller offerings that she could find.

“Need help?” A deep voice behind her made her whirl. An East Asian man in overalls and a canvas coat stood slapping his heavy gloves against his thigh with a welcoming grin.

She grinned back at him, fizzing with energy. “I hope so. I need a little guy. I guess you don’t get a lot of call for that around here.” She thought about the houses in the area: mostly big, when they weren’t absolutely huge.

“Not so much, but I do have a couple.” The guy waved at an aisle of trees that she hadn’t ventured down yet. “I think we can get you set up.”

Thea followed in happy anticipation, finally feeling like it was Christmas.

Simon tossed his clothes into the hamper, feeling more than a little bereft. He hated that he’d gone straight to his most defensive, reactionary self—and for nothing more than a brief laugh at his sugar-coated expense. Thea’s infectious, somewhat chaotic enthusiasm was appealing, but it was also a little scary. Thea kind of threw herself at things. Yeah, she had a basic plan for her video. And she could obviously follow a recipe in order to make delicious waffle cookies.

But there was something manic about all of it that always kept him a little off-kilter.

Calm down . She’s a lot like Chloe in that regard, and you roll with her just fine.

Going into the bathroom, he turned on the water, trying to not compare this sterile little apartment building cubicle with the gleaming tiled room with its big shower enclosure. At least the water was hot and plentiful, he consoled himself as steam filled the room and he stepped in to lather up. His body, a little too responsive to mere thoughts of Thea in the past, was now tired and still spent. He got clean with brutal efficiency, then got out of the shower to dry off. His phone rang in the bedroom and nearly groaned. It had to be Ashley. He wasn’t going to answer her demands for a video call in a towel though. Another call shrilled while he examined his face and wondered if he could get away with not shaving. Finally, when he had shrugged into his bathrobe, the third demand came. He picked up the phone and tapped to answer. His sister’s exasperated face appeared on the screen.

“What, Ash?”

“Where were you?” Ashley snapped, her face pinched, her red-gold curls wilder than usual.

He took a deep breath to regain his composure. “I was in the shower. I’m getting ready for work. Is there some kind of emergency?” All of a sudden, his stomach swooped. Their parents—were they okay?

“No.” A dull, red flush was creeping up her neck, visible even on his phone’s small screen. “I just can’t believe you couldn’t come out sooner. Everything’s a fucking shambles and I don’t know what to do to fix it.”

In years past, he might have felt guilty. But this time, he heard what she didn’t say. She didn’t miss him. She didn’t want her brother. She wanted her holiday drudge to do all the things she didn’t want to.

“Well, I can’t come any sooner. You know this. I don’t have the leave. And even if I was able to fly out today, that would only give me a couple of more days. The horse is out of the barn.”

“It’s totally unfair that your job won’t give you more time to be with your family—”

“ Stop , Ash. Just stop. It’s totally unfair that you and Ray and Noah and Mom and Dad moved all the way to the other side of the goddamn continent and expect me to be able to stop by as if you went one town over. Just stop it. If you wanted a long family holiday together, you all could have come back here.”

She gave him a look that said she thought he’d taken leave of his senses. “Do you know how expensive it is to fly five people cross-country?”

He almost laughed at how obtuse she was being. “Yeah. I have some notion. Because it looks like I’m going to be the one who’s always going to have to be doing it. I have to upend my life, spend half a day flying in each direction, deal with jet lag, and this time I’m only going to be there just long enough to get over the jet lag before I come home again. Trust me, I get how expensive it is. I get how unfair it is. I just don’t think you get how expensive and unfair it is to me. I didn’t choose any of this and I’m the one who has to accommodate all of it. And I’m sick of it.”

Ash’s face had gone brick red. She glared at him for a long moment, and he steeled himself for another verbal onslaught. “Well, I’m sorry we’re such a burden.” His phone beeped softly and the call ended.

Simon tossed his phone on the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Fuck.”