Caught in the Flames by Kacey Shea Read Free Book Online

potential relationship. Do not put him on a gender reverse pedestal.”
    “What would that even be? A ladder? A step stool?”
    “Step stool would be kinda short, don’t you think? Besides, men never admit to needing one of those. I’d go with a five-gallon paint bucket. It’s more masculine.”
    “Jill, I never knew you to be such a sexist.”
    “I know. Shhh! Don’t tell anyone.”
    “It’ll be our little secret.”
    “But you hear me, right? Try and relax. Enjoy being pursued. You’re a kickass lady. He had fun. If he didn’t then he’s an asshole you don’t need, but believe me, he’ll find you.”
    “You think?”
    “I know.”
    “Thanks, Jill. I knew I called you for a reason.”
    “You really didn’t try Alicia first?”
    “Err . . .”
    Jill laughs. “I thought so. Love you, Callie.”
    “Bye, Jill. Love you, too.”
    I set down my phone and finish adding the spices, ground turkey, and water, and set the cooker to eight hours. I wash the cutting board and knife, but because I tidied along the way there isn’t much to clean. With dinner and lunch for the entire week prepped, my mind wanders to a certain studly fireman and his sweet ride. Fuck . I need to get out of the house or I’m going to case the firehouse like the stalker chick I refuse to be.
    Target therapy time.
    I quickly dress—a nice blouse and jean shorts—and twist my hair back into a bun. I paint my lips a nude hue and brush on some bronzer in the totally rare and highly unlikely event I come face to face with Chase. Really, can I be too careful about this sort of thing? I think not.
    Feet in my most worn pair of five dollar sandals and purse in hand, I pad outside and into the sweltering day. With the windows down, the ride in my Jeep is therapeutic in itself. The red logo of my favorite store calls me like a beacon.
    I can spend hours—literally—wandering the aisles of this joint. I take my usual route, starting with a chocolatey latte purchase and then peruse the music selection. Bieber has a new album? When did that happen? I resist the impromptu guilty pleasure purchase and place the disc back on the shelf.
    Books . This looks promising. I grip the flame covered paperback and flip through the pages. Oh, too dark and depressing. I set it back on the shelf and look for something lighter. I settle on a classic beach read and before I realize it my drink is empty and I’m past chapter five. Shit. Will need to get this one from the library. I set it back and make my way past electronics, toys, and over to the seasonal section.
    I wander to Outdoor. Spending summers with my aunt and uncle as a kid, I helped my aunt sometimes with her gardening. She could spend hours pruning and planting and potting and whatever the hell else is required to create a gorgeous yard. The smell of the upturned earth and then patting the soil over seeds is my favorite part. Sadness washes over me and replaces the good memory. God, I miss her. Gone too soon. Cancer, the dick that steals too many lives before their time.
    Maybe next summer I can plant a garden in my yard. I’d like that.
    I toss my cup into a trash can and head over to the accessories. I always save the best for last. I try on bangle after bangle and almost decide on a purchase before a loud shout and crash pulls my attention.
    “Someone call nine-one-one!” a woman shouts. Shit. I hurry through the rows of wallets and messenger bags to find the commotion near the checkout line. An elderly man slouches against the checkout display. He grips his opposite arm, eyes glazed over, while a woman next to him shouts for help. I pull my cell out to make the call but when I glance around I realize at least five other people have already done so.
    The woman seems so distraught that I can’t help but go to her. I touch her arm and she spins to face me.
    “Help is on the way,” I say, which seems to calm her enough to stop shouting. She leans into my body and I wrap an arm around