Her lips quirked. “Jason Mosedale, I did not drag myself out of bed at four in the morning to watch you play the fool.”
“It’s worth it, though, ain’t it?” called Brent.
“Definitely not.”
Jason decided he’d had enough of the peanut gallery. “You guys get yourselves some coffee while I bring Kendra up to speed on victim protocol. Back in ten.”
The other firefighters chaotically headed out of the garage, toward the common room where they usually hung out on a slow day. Lake Bittersweet had more than its share of slow days. Hence the nonstop pranks and jokes.
Kendra tapped a foot on the ground. Busy woman, places to go, things to do, said her body language. Except that Jason detected something else, a shadow behind her brightness. He wanted to ask her if everything was okay. But they weren’t exactly the confiding sort of friends, and her manner screamed “let’s get on with this,” so he didn’t.
“So what do I do in this swatting scenario?” she asked.
“Do you know what swatting is? Not the mosquito kind?”
“Nope.”
Weirdly, it felt good to know something that Kendra wasn’t already proficient at. All through high school, she’d been either at the top of every class or close to it. He’d always muddled around in the middle somewhere. It wasn’t until he’d dated an occupational therapist that he’d learned he probably had an undiagnosed learning disorder. The fact that he’d done as well as he had in school was probably a minor miracle. Nancy had insisted that he was highly intelligent, and that was what had saved his ass from complete failure.
“Swatting is when some nefarious person calls 9-1-1 to report a nonexistent crime happening somewhere. Law enforcement responds, full-force, and an innocent person finds themselves at the business end of a bunch of hyped-up first responders. Usually it’s police, but here in Lake Bittersweet, us studly firefighters respond to 9-1-1 calls, so we need to know what to do in a situation like that.”
“That really happens?” She looked appalled. “That doesn’t sound like something my demographic would do.”
Come to think of it, she probably wasn’t wrong. “I don’t have a demographic breakdown like that, so I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “Practicing for the fire chief position when you have to face the media?”
He grinned at her. “How’d you know?”
“I didn’t! I was…mostly joking. Are you really going for it?”
Was that respect in her eyes? She probably thought of him as so easygoing that he’d never push for a promotion like that. And she might be right.
But man, how would it feel to see that look in her eyes more often?
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
“Who needs the stress? It’s a lot of responsibility. I’m all about the simple life. Fishing, firefighting, good f…n.” He deliberately let that last “f” linger before completing the word.
She rolled her eyes at his dumb stab at a joke, but then turned serious.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Jason. You’d be a good fire chief.”
A compliment from Kendra? Now that surprised him, so much so that he loosened his grip on the blowup doll and it bounced to the ground. He grabbed at it. Plastic squeaked and then a pop let out all the remaining air in one big whoosh. He dropped the limp deflated plastic to the concrete floor. “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”
She burst out laughing. “Never mind. So tell me what I’m doing here, Jaybone?”
He winced at the sound of that old nickname, inspired by the fact that he played the trombone in high school. He still played, but only as part of an informal jam session organized by Redfish Carter. “I haven’t heard that one since high school, and I can’t say that I’ve missed it.”
“Really? I always thought it was cute. It suited you.”
Was she saying he was cute? He wanted to pursue that possibility, but they were running out of time.
“Here’s the drill. You’re going to play the victim of a swatting attack. All you have to do is act like you’re an ordinary person sitting at home watching TV. We’re going to swarm you as if we’re going to arrest you. You have to act like a normal innocent person. Can you do that?”
“There won’t be guns, will there? I’m not trying to get a bunch of guns pointed at me.”
“Of course not. We’re firefighters. We don’t carry guns.”
“Are you going to push me around? I don’t want that either.”
Trust Kendra Carter to set her boundaries so clearly ahead of time. He admired that about her. Along with so many other things.
“No physical contact. No one will touch you.”
She thought it over, then nodded her consent. “I got it. Patty owes me for this one.”
“Yeah, sorry. She’s our usual victim. She’s done it so many times that she critiques us afterwards. Catches all kinds of stuff.”
Kendra’s face lit up. “Ooh, now you’re talking my love language. Can I do that too? You know there’s nothing I love more than giving my opinion.”
“Sure. We’ll give you a feedback card that you can drop in the suggestion box.” He gestured at the burn barrel in the corner of the garage.
“Cute, Jaybone. Supercute.”
They grinned at each other. A moment. We’re having a moment. Me and Kendra. Or should it be Kendra and I?
Because one thing he knew for sure, Kendra would correct his grammar if he got it wrong. He knew because sometimes back in high school, he deliberately got it wrong just so she’d give him that look. The one that said, “I’m smart and hot and dream on, bud.”
“Okay then.” Just like that, Kendra shattered the moment. “I’m ready to scream my ass off because some idiot firefighters can’t tell the difference between a real call and swatter.”
Ha. Yup. Dream on.
“Get out of my house, you’re trespassing and trampling all over my civil rights and I will sue your asses!” Kendra shouted at the firefighters stampeding toward her.
“Cut!” Jason gestured at the crew. “Let’s try it again.” He strode over to Kendra, who’d taken a seat on a folding chair he’d set up between the paramedic van and the fire truck.
“Cut? Are we making a movie?”
“Yeah. It’s called ‘Why Can’t Kendra Act Like an Ordinary Person?’”
“Well, that’s going to look ridiculous on a movie poster.”
Jason looked so frustrated—in an undeniably hot way—that she couldn’t help smiling at him. He’d really, really grown up fine, and she’d been aware of that fact for a while. Quite the glow-up. It wasn’t just the muscles he’d developed since he’d become a fireman. It was the gleam in his eyes, the smile always hovering in the corner of his mouth, even that damn groove in his cheek. Jason was the kind of guy people wanted to be around.
That is, other people did. Not her. That fun-loving vibe was appealing, sure, but it didn’t bode well for a future. Besides, she had enough to juggle. If it wasn’t the new restaurant, it was worries about her father. If it wasn’t all of her friends getting engaged or married, it was the fact that she was still recovering from getting callously and shockingly dumped.