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“Did you know toasters just sometimes set on fire? When exactly did that become a thing? And why aren’t there more people talking about it?”
Zach incorrectly thought that clearing his throat would be enough to mask his snigger. “Uh, well, any old appliances can be a potential fire hazard. With toasters, a build-up of breadcrumbs can also act as fuel to the fire.”
“What the hell? I didn’t know that, Zach. Why didn’t I know that? Is this some big firefighter secret or something? ‘Cause I’m telling you right now, people need to know this! I’m thirty-one, Zach. Thirty-one! And never in my life would I have thought I could be making toast one day and then ... boom! Fire! People need to be told. They need to know, damnit!”
Okay, it was safe to say this was not her finest moment. She was well aware ranting about toaster fires while sitting on the curb – in just her miniscule, bright pink shorts and vest top – was giving off batshit crazy vibes. But she clearly just couldn’t help herself. Once she got a look at his expression, the crazy continued.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You are ... you’re laughing at me!”
“Smiling. I’m smiling at you. There’s a big difference.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you pretending to clear your throat earlier. You’re laughing at me! I can’t believe you’re laughing at me. Here I am, trying to have a serious conversation about toaster fire safety and the big bad firefighter is laughing at me. Like I’m a freaking clown!”
Finally giving in to temptation, Zach threw his head back and laughed. Without any shame.
How rude.
Once he’d composed himself, he took one look at the daggers Libby was shooting him with her eyes and threw his palms up defensively. “Sorry, sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh.” It’s important to note that he was definitely still laughing. “It’s not very professional of me. But ... I’ve never seen anyone get so upset over a toaster before. So much so that your cheeks are all red, and you do this thing with your nose – scrunching it up in this cute way that makes you look like one of the Disney princesses on your pajamas. It’s all just a mixture of hilarious and cute. I can’t help but laugh.”
Well, now she really didn’t know what to say. That was pretty honest. More honest than she was expecting. Did he just call her cute? She’d never really been described as cute before. Not that she liked it. Not from this man, anyway. She would have preferred sexy. Or attractive. Beautiful would have been a stretch. But cute? No. She was not a house pet or a small child. So, cute wasn’t all that flattering.
“What’s got you thinking so hard, darlin’?”
Her eyebrow shot up again. It was really getting a workout today. “It’s darlin’ now?”
He was grinning from ear to ear, flashing those damn dimples at her. “Yep.”
“I was thinking about how no woman ever wants to be called cute.”
“Is that so? And what about being compared to a Disney princess?”
She simply shrugged. “I’m not sure nose scrunching counts.”
“What about if I said it wasn’t just your nose?” She felt the heat from his stare seep into her skin. What on earth was happening? “That it was the shape of those green eyes that sparkle when they catch the sun. Your long, brown hair that looks like it’s made of silk and those pink lips that part into a pout every time your mind wanders.” His eyes made her feel as if they were penetrating her now, pinning her in place. “I could go on, but I wouldn’t want to make you blush even harder than you already are.”
Well, shit.
“Are you hitting on me? Are you allowed to hit on me?” She looked around as if at any moment someone was going to come along and give him a good telling off.
“No, I’m not hitting on you. Just backing up my compliment with some facts. I’m not quite sure if it’s allowed. I don’t usually hit on women during a shift.”
That last sentence made her snort. A very unbecoming snort. Not at all Disney princess like.
He continued talking before she had a chance to reply. “Everything looks good here. And it looks like we’re packing up.” He’d changed the subject so quickly she was tempted to ask him to check her for whiplash. “My colleague Hunter will be over in a minute with some paperwork. Once that’s done, you’ll be free to go back inside.”
It was like he’d just flipped a switch. Back to business. No more flirting. No more lip twitches. And where had those dimples gone?
“Okay, thanks.” She nodded. There wasn’t much else to say.
And just like that, the dimples were back, as he rose to his full height. “Anytime, princess.”
With that odd goodbye, he was gone.
***
