Page 12 of Christmas with Three Firemen

I huff, finally peeling the banana. “Nope.”

“Conspiracy?”

“Nope.”

“Midnight book club?”

“Mateo,” sighs Wes, effectively ending the mischievous interrogation.

“You’re hungry,” Mateo says, switching gears and nodding at the fruit in my hand. “Because you ignored my invitation and skipped dinner, right?”

“I was busy,” is all I say.

He grins. “We don’t bite, Noelle.”

Wes exhales through his nose. The sound is suspiciously close to laughter.

Mateo points triumphantly. “See? He agrees with me.”

“He didn’t say anything,” I counter.

“He didn’t have to. He’s got that trustworthy sort of vibe.”

I don’t know what to say to that. So, while I awkwardly take a bite of the banana I don’t really want and Wes wordlessly sips his black coffee, Mateo begins rummaging through cabinets.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Looking for cookies.”

“At four in the morning?”

He gapes at me like I’m the strange one.

“Especially at four in the morning, Investigator Meadows.”

I almost laugh at that, but manage to keep my expression neutral.

“Victory!” he hisses a moment later.

I glance toward Wes, who looks completely resigned to his own fate. He’s probably been dealing with Mateo’s antics for years.

Searching my brain for an excuse to scamper out of there before the remnants of my dream can resurface at the forefront of my mind, I pretend that the pulpy rind of the banana is the most interesting thing in the world.

And then, as if the universe is in the mood to play an endless series of cruel and unusual pranks on me today, a third presence enters the dark room.

“Oh, hey, Cap!” chirps Mateo. “Did you come looking for some cookies, too?”

Captain Hale barely even glances at Mateo, his gaze zeroing in on me as if he’s a heat-seeking missile and I’m the most desired target. I straighten my spine, readying myself for whatever verbal volley is about to occur.

But all he says is, “Are you alright?”

I blink. “What?”

“You’re awake before dawn, huddled in the dark with my engineer and my EMT. Is something wrong?”

I wouldn’t consider his tone to be anything close to genuine concern, but he’s definitely not mocking me. It’s more like he’s just truly curious to know why something, i.e. me, is out of place. Wes and Mateo might be on duty, but I’m a civilian who should be fast asleep at this hour.

“Nothing’s wrong, Captain,” I assure him. “I’ve never been very good at sleeping through the night.”