Flirting With Fire (Hometown Heroes) (25 page)

I waited.
Shifted my weight from one foot to the next. “About?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on,” I
said, and gave him a little nudge with my elbow.

“It’s nothing,
okay? Let it go.” He scowled down at the sink. “You got more dishes in there,
or what?”

“Um, yeah.”

I reached back
into the murky water for another plate. It wasn’t like him to let work get to
him, or to bite my head off. Torrunn’s voice suddenly came to mind.

 …a navy
Silverado parked on the side street. You know anybody who drives a truck like
that?...

I refused to
believe Mitch had anything to do with the fires. But with him acting all weird,
a small part of me suddenly needed to know for sure. I scrubbed and rinsed
another plate, then handed it to him as casually as possible.

“So, hey, were you
in Fort Wayne on Tuesday, by any chance?”

Mitch tensed up
beside me. “I, uh, drove up that way. Made a stop at Jefferson Pointe. Why?”

I turned to
survey his face. The look he gave me was guarded, wary.

“I thought I saw
your truck when I was walking back from lunch,” I lied. “That’s all.”

“Oh? What time
was that?”

“Hmm.” Crap,
what time should I tell him? Heck, I was a mile north and east of there at JJ’s
with Jessica. “Maybe one-ish?”

“Nope, wasn’t
me. I was over at GFS stocking up on a few things.”

He seemed to
relax by a fraction. I wanted to believe him, and knew he shopped there from
time to time, but still the alibi seemed a bit too convenient. With a shrug I
reached into the sink for a rogue spatula and decided to press my luck just a
little more.

“Huh, coulda
sworn it was you. Must be someone else in town with a Purdue vanity plate like
yours.”

Mitch’s face
clouded red. He threw the towel down, reached into his back pocket, retrieved
his wallet, then flipped it open. From its pocket he produced a folded, narrow
white paper, which he promptly slammed down onto the counter beside me. “You
don’t believe me? Look at the time stamp on my damn receipt.”

I stared at him,
wide-eyed.

“Go ahead,
Sherlock, read it.”

“No, thanks.”

“Fine,” he
snapped, stuffing the receipt back into his wallet. “Next time, just believe me
when I tell you where I was. Or wasn’t.”

CHAPTER
21

I spent the day
alone Sunday, sorting through the mess of emotions rattling through my mind:
confusion, attraction, denial, frustration. None of them, of course, did me any
good. I thumbed through the phonebook and found a Lutheran church not far from
where I lived. Though I wasn’t Lutheran, I knew I’d be able to follow that
service easier than the Catholic church a few blocks east of here. I’d been to
just enough of those services to know I always crissed and crossed when
everyone else crossed and crissed.

The service was
beautiful, complete with a full choir and authentic pipe organ, which helped to
wash away my troubles if only for a few hymns. But then the minister stepped
into the pulpit and delivered a fiery sermon about how we should accept that
everything in our lives happens according to God’s plan, not our own.

Not exactly the
message of encouragement I was hoping for.

I walked back
home, dodging late spring raindrops and doing my best to stop today’s pity
party before it started. When had I become so…pathetic? It was rather
embarrassing, really. I had so much to be thankful for: my health, my friends,
my family.

Not like
Torrunn, who had his own, much bigger demons to battle. If what Joe had said
was true, Torrunn’s brave, Teflon exterior was a silent contradiction to his
hurting, fear-filled interior. But surely that’d been years ago. How could a
guy with everything going for him choose to walk away from all that life has to
offer and never look back?

And why did his
choice seem to bother me so much?

Ah, but it was
none of my business, I reminded myself as I climbed the steps back up to my
apartment. What he chose to do or not to do with his life was his decision. And
if God had a bigger plan in store for Torrunn, well, that was up to Him to kick
it into action, not me.

I made sure to
remind myself of all that when I got back to work on Monday and saw Torrunn down
for an eleven o’clock appointment.

Not. My.
Business.

I drifted
through both my appointment with the persnickety Mrs. Shimkis (whom Tony had
convinced to give me a try) and one with scaly Mr. Goeglein (who had to have
been at least a hundred and three) before realizing the usual pre-Torrunn-time butterflies
were mysteriously absent. Perhaps the sorrow I felt for his loss had finally freed
me from my ridiculous crush on him.

Well, freed
until he was lying in all his nearly naked glory on my table once more. The
crush washed back over me with a vengeance, and that whole ‘not my business’
line of thinking evaporated. I trailed my hands down his beautiful back, all too
aware of the hurt that lay beneath the skin. Hurt that he may very well be numb
to by now.

And all I could
think about was helping him find a way to move past it.

“So did you win
the other night? At darts?”

“Nah,” he said.
“Nate always kills me in Cricket. I can’t close out twenties fast enough.”

“Cricket?”

“Yeah, it’s a
dart game. I take it you don’t throw much.”

I laughed. “No,
I don’t think anyone would be safe in a room where I was throwing pointy objects.”

“You’d be fine,
under the guidance of the right instructor.”

His unspoken
offer hung heavy in the air. I tried not to imagine him standing beside me,
holding my hand as he showed me the proper wrist flick needed to hit a bulls
eye. Maybe putting his hands on my hips to help adjust my stance…

“…Liz?”

I blinked a few
times. “Sorry. What was that?”

His forehead
tugged back in amusement. “I said that I’d offer show you, only, you’d probably
come back at me with some ‘I don’t throw with clients’ rule.”

Ouch. “While
it’s true I rarely hang out with clients outside this room, I don’t believe
that
is a rule I’ve ever had drawn up.”

I finished working
his back, neck, and shoulders, then came around to hold up the sheet so he
could roll over. God, I loved watching his shoulders flex as he maneuvered
beneath me. Beneath me. Cripes, why couldn’t I make it through one single
appointment without my mind in the gutter? The guy was hurting. Sad. Probably
in denial. These were not the kinds of thoughts I should be harboring about
him!

Torrunn settled
onto the table with a sigh. His back had been in surprisingly good shape, so I
opted to pull my chair around and sit past the head of the table to work on his
face, neck, and scalp. It kept me out of his line of sight but still afforded
me an amazing view. Looking was harmless, right?

“So, you haven’t
given me any sneak peeks into ‘The Man Known as Torrunn’ lately.”

One brow raised
on his forehead. “I’d gotten the impression you hadn’t wanted to get to know
that guy.”

More guilt.
Intentional or not, he was laying it on thick today. “Humor me.”

He remained
silent for a moment, his lips parting as he relaxed beneath my touch. I gazed
down at his long, dark lashes, still against his smooth skin. The stubble he
usually allowed on his cheeks was slightly longer than usual today, and it
tickled at my fingers as they traced his sinuses.

Yep, now I was
thinking about what else they would tickle. Seriously, I was hopeless when it
came to Torrunn MacKay.

“Well, I grew up
around here. Went to Wayne High School. Played in a band.”

“You were in the
band? So was I! What instrument did you play?”

“Not the band,
a
band. As in, a garage band. I played bass guitar. We were horrible, couldn’t
book a single gig.” His lips pulled into a crooked grin. “But I’m not surprised
to hear
you
were in the band. I suppose you marched, too.”

“What’s that
supposed to mean?” I asked, pinching the bridge of his nose a little harder
than necessary.

“Easy! It wasn’t
meant to be a jab, just that you seemed the type.”

“The type that
would be in a marching band?” Yep, I guess I did. Because I was. “Clarinet. I
played clarinet.”

“Nothing wrong
with that.”

“We were talking
about you.”

A smile broke
out across his face. “Someone’s not used to being the center of attention.”

“Ah, that’s
because these sessions aren’t for my benefit. They’re for yours.”

“Then humor
me
.
I want to know more about you.”

I swallowed
hard. “Alright. Well, I grew up in Autumn Lake with my mom and dad. Went to Huntington North, then Ball State. Got a job at a small salon in my hometown after
college, where I worked until the owner found out her husband was cheating on
her. After that, she started offering her male customers ‘happy endings’ in the
back room.”

“Ah, that
explains it.”

“Explains what?”

His eyes
fluttered open and looked up in my direction. “Why you’re so adamant about
keeping your work and personal life separate.”

“Well, that certainly
didn’t help. But no, I’d set my no-dating-clients rule long before that.” I
took a deep breath. “See, I had a good friend at Ball State make some bad
choices, and it cost her not only a degree but her whole future career. I love
what I do, and refuse to jeopardize my reputation.”

“And you
don’t…feel anything…during all these appointments?”

“Feel anything?”
I grinned, giving his nose a small tug.

“I meant
attraction. Surely, you’ve had some good-looking clients.”

I looked up to
the ceiling and asked for strength. “Not too many, no. But I don’t look at
clients like that. And usually they’re mostly covered up, so unless I had, say,
a serious shoulder fetish, there’s not much I see that I can’t keep in
perspective.”

“Is that so?”

“Before you get
any crazy ideas, buddy, let’s not test that theory, okay?”

His eyes closed
and lips tugged into another crooked grin. “You’re no fun.”

Fun.
Making
babies
would be fun.
Kids
would be fun.

Kids.

“Speaking of
fun, you looked like you were having a blast at the grocery store yesterday.”

Torrunn’s face
smoothed into a cool shade of indifference. “Yeah, kids are always asking to
climb up and see inside the truck. Who am I to deny them that?”

I knew I should
leave it alone. Could tell from the way his body tensed that this was a touchy
subject. And yet something about it drew me onward.

“Oh, I thought
you did better than that. You were a natural!”

Color flooded
his cheeks. “He told you, didn’t he.”

It wasn’t a
question, and I wasn’t going to lie. I shifted my hands to his neck. “Your
early days on the force may have come up.”

Torrunn cursed
under his breath. “So you think I’m a coward now.”

“A
coward
?
You run into
burning buildings
on a regular basis. Save little old
ladies from their forgotten stovetops. Endure squirmy, snotty kids climbing
into your truck and lap. There’s nothing cowardly about any of that.”

“Right.”

I rested my
hands on his collarbone. “Don’t diminish the importance of your job, Torrunn.”

He said nothing.
Knowing I’d already said more than I should have, and feeling an odd sense of
bravado for doing so, I put myself out there a little further. I leaned
forward, my voice low. “And please don’t let a tragic accident overshadow your
every move. I’d hate to see you wake up twenty years from now, alone, and
realize all you’ve missed because of it.”

* * * *

The next few
days were rather uneventful. No fires, no major drama. It was a nice change.

I sat on my
balcony Wednesday, watching the evening ballgame while chatting on the phone
with Sarah. Their bowling season was over, and she was lamenting that they
wouldn’t be able to sign up again in the fall.

“There’s no way
I’ll be able to throw a ball by then,” she grumbled.

I took a drink
from the glass of Moscato I’d poured myself after dinner and grinned. “Yeah, if
being pregnant with two makes everything twice as bad as with one, you probably
wouldn’t be able to walk that far without having to pee, either.”

She laughed, a
sound I’d been missing. The topic of her pregnancy was somehow getting easier
for me to bear, and she seemed more accepting of my move each day. My mother,
it seems, had been right.

Moving wouldn’t
mean the end to our friendship.

“So, how’s Mitch
doing, anyway?”

“Mitch?” she
asked.

“Yeah, he seemed
kinda stressed out at your place last weekend.”

“Huh. I haven’t
noticed him acting any different than usual. He hasn’t been around as much
lately, though. Ron’s been working more overtime the past few weeks. Gotta save
for the babies, you know.”

“Oh, right. It’s
awesome he has that opportunity.”

“Yes, it is. But
that leaves me with the kids longer, and I wear out so much easier right now.”

The TinCaps
batter cracked a long, line drive into left field, sending the crowd into a
roar. “Oh, wow. Is your mother coming over to help?”

“Thankfully,
yes. And Ron’s parents help when they can. But I’m trying not to bother them
too much so soon—we’ll need a lot more help when the babies come.”

“More help,” I
echoed. My gaze had drifted to the children’s area west of left field, where a
tall, lean figure in black pants and a gray logoed t-shirt waded through a
crowd of dancing, waving youngsters. Torrunn with his stickers again. Even from
this distance I could see the smile on his face mirrored in each of theirs.