The Guy Who Became My Grumpy Boss (Curvy Girl Crew #7)

Chapter 23

-Jessica-

“Why would you want to shut the fire control system down?” the man behind the check-in desk asked.

My chest heaved, and I spoke between breaths. “There was a small…” Breathe . “Fire. It’s totally out now…and we…” Breathe . “Don’t want the sprinklers to come on.”

That was two truths and a lie. The fire had been small, and we didn’t want the sprinklers to come on, but I had no real proof that the fire was completely contained.

Ashley had given me that fire blanket a few years before, and it happened to be in the backpack of emergency items I’d brought, including pain killers, a first aid kit, and extra duct tape.

The last thing from my pack I thought I’d need today was something for fire control!

“If there’s no fire, the sprinklers won’t go off.” The man behind the counter spoke to me as if explaining something to a child.

“Fire doesn’t set it off, smoke does, and there is smoke.”

“I thought you said the fire was out!” Now the man took a step back and stared at me with wide eyes.

“It is.”

“I’m confused.” He shook his head.

I resisted the urge to rub my face. “You called the manager, right?”

“He’s not answering.”

I could only imagine the smoke curling toward the ceiling right now. Most of the commotion from inside the ballroom was trapped by the closed double doors, but I could still hear people yelling and screaming.

Then, the alarm went off.

Flashing lights strobed from each corner of the lobby, and a wail rivaled only by a dozen high-pitched fog horns filled the air.

The man behind the desk ducked, covered, and let out an impressive string of profanity.

I plugged my ears. I’d done all I could. The sprinklers were coming.

For a moment, I was torn. Should I head outside or back into the ballroom? I couldn’t do anything to help, but it might look bad if I ran without making sure people knew how to get out, so I returned to the doors I’d exited through.

When I opened them, I found a lot of people without shirts on lying over their boxes of donated provisions as if the food was their child and they were protecting it from the incoming storm.

A squirting hiss sounded, and I glanced up.

The sprinkler heads turned.

I stepped into the doorframe, hoping to be spared the worst of it, and held my breath.

A torrent of water cascaded from above.

People screamed, the sound almost overpowering the alarm. Someone nearby was crying. I leaned closer to the wall, trying to keep my body from getting wet.

The downpour lasted all of three seconds, then stopped.

As if someone had turned the tap on by accident, then turned it off again.

The alarm ceased.

Silence reigned for a heartbeat until several drips sounded, like the last bit of water coming out of a showerhead or faucet.

My eyes darted around the room.

People began raising their heads and looking back and forth.

The crying started again.

Then Peter was walking toward me. He wasn’t soaked, but his hair was wet and his face glistening. It was a good look on him. “Nicely done,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Peter’s category four appeared. “You didn’t?”

I shook my head. “The guy at the front desk was useless.”

“Then why did the water stop?” His eyes turned to the ceiling.

“Not sure.”

“So it could come back on?” Peter glared at the nearest sprinkler as if daring it to restart.

That’s when I noticed Peter’s shaking hands. I reached out and took them, then pulled him into the lobby. “Let’s go find out.”

My plan to give Peter a minute to decompress failed miserably when Marissa’s voice echoed through the space. “Peter!”

The category five expression returned to Peter’s face as he looked over my shoulder at the approaching prima donna. I was about to tell him I’d take care of her—likely by shoving her out the door and calling her a van or whatever—when Peter gently moved me aside. “Go back in and make sure everything is alright.”

With that, he stalked past me.

I admit, I turned and watched. The hopeful look on Marissa’s face twisted something inside my gut, and even though she’d been a supreme jerk to me, I no longer wanted to see her humiliated. I just wanted her gone.

“Jessica?”

I jumped, then turned to find Amelia standing right outside the ballroom.

“What’s going on?” Amelia asked.

“Not sure,” I confessed.

The keen of a siren from outside drifted in through the revolving door, and Amelia and I exchanged a knowing look.

“That’s got to be the fire department,” she said.

“Probably,” I agreed.

Giggling had broken out in the ballroom, as did a rendition of Singing in the Rain .

I could only imagine the dance moves going on.

“You didn’t find the hotel manager?” Amelia asked.

“Nope.”

She sighed. “Let’s go talk to the fire department.

One year, Brooke had gotten me a calendar for Christmas. It had been filled with shirtless fireman holding baby animals. I’d never believed that most firefighters looked like that, but as Amelia and I walked out the front door, I wondered if this unit had been the squad the calendar had featured.

Even in their huge suits I could tell the guys were fit, muscular, and incredibly hot.

Not as attractive as Peter, but there was a lot to appreciate.

Amelia let out a low whistle, then glanced over at me. “You didn’t hear that.”

Apparently, Amelia felt the same way. “Hear what?” I feigned innocence.

An older, but no less handsome, man approached us. “Do you work for the hotel?”

We both shook our heads.

I honestly had no idea how this should go. I was surprised they weren’t charging the building with fire hoses at the ready, but it seemed they were content to do things slowly.

“I’m Captain Grant. Can you tell me what happened?”

Amelia pointed at me, and I explained what I’d seen and what I’d done about it. When I said the sprinklers had gone off after a few seconds, the man frowned.

“No one turned them off?” he asked.

“Not that I know of.”

His frown deepened, and if I hadn’t been admiring Peter just moments before, I might have been tempted to get this guy’s number.

“We’re going to have to take a look around,” the man said.

“Will you have to shut the hotel down?” Amelia asked.

“We’ll need to clear the building, then assess what happened before we can move forward.”

Amelia stepped aside as the captain took one woman and one man and strode into the building. After they disappeared, she looked at me. “The candle company ended up with people in the hospital, and we start a fire and end up with the fire department at our retreat. Is our building, or maybe the block it’s on, cursed perhaps?”

I laughed. “You never know.”

The two of us followed the others back inside to the ballroom.

“Where was the fire?” Captain Grant asked.

“This way.” I retraced my steps and took him to the fire blanket. He wore a small tank on his back the contents of which I had no doubt would smother anything left, and he was ready as one of his guys pulled my solution off the problem.

I stayed back and watched as he explored the area, checked the blanket, poked at the carpet, and had one of his guys find a way to look under the floor.

Amelia stood beside me. “Maybe I should have just given everyone two days off.”

“And miss this?” I threw my hands out. “This will go down in company history. Songs will probably be sung about it and everything.”

Amelia snorted. “I appreciate your point of view.”

“There’s no real harm done.” I glanced around. “People have mostly put their shirts back on, and I think they’re genuinely sad about not being able to finish.”

Amelia followed my lead. “You’re right, they do look disappointed.”

I made a face. “Maybe we can use the parking lot.”

“Did you notice the state of the parking lot?”

I hadn’t.

“We might have to donate the food and call it good,” Amelia said.

This hadn’t even been her idea in the first place, but even she sounded sad about the possible outcome.

“We’ll think of something,” I said.

We continued to watch as the fire guys and gal explored the area looking for hidden damage.

Now that I saw the crime scene, so to speak, I wondered how the fire had started. What looked like a small mound of boxed food now lay charred. There was nothing else around it, and unless the team had concealed something inside, there was no reason for it to have caught on fire.

Spontaneous combustion wasn’t a real thing, was it?

Captain Grant grabbed some sort of metal tool from his belt and poked at the pile. It broke apart—letting out one last death throe of smoke and ash—and then he got down on his knees. “You see that?” He pointed, and one of his guys came over.

“A book of matches?”

“Seems like it.” Captain Grant looked up. “Did someone start this on purpose?”

Amelia and I blanched.

“Why would they do that?” Amelia asked.

Now he turned his attention to me. “You said you saw it happen?”

“No, I saw it after it had started.”

“Who was nearby? We’re going to need to talk to them.”

Dan, the food committee guy, stepped forward. “This was my team. We’d just set it up, and we had no plans to burn it.”

Captain Grant rose to his considerable height and stared down at Dan. “Who all was here when it happened?”

Dan rattled off the names of his team, then added, “Oh, and Lance and Marissa, although Lance had left by then.”

“Where are all of these people?” Captain Grant asked.

“My team is over there.” Dan pointed. “I’m not sure where Marissa is.”

“Peter is getting her a ride home,” I said.

Captain Grant glanced at the door, then back to me. “Can you get to her before she leaves, so we don’t have to chase her down?”

“She didn’t do this, she’s in a wheelchair with a broken leg,” Amelia said.

I agreed, but Captain Grant shook his head. “She may have seen something, and the sooner we talk to her, the better.”

I sighed. Bringing that woman back here was the last thing I wanted to do now that she was on her way out, but I also didn’t want to obstruct justice or whatever. ‘“I’ll go get her.”