Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
“Well, did you get arrested for it?” Stephan winks.
“Okay, then, no! Not a single felony!” she announces.
The guys look at me and it’s obvious that they’re totally excited. I can see they are already completely on board with this idea. And it may be completely nuts—I may actually get fired over it—but at this point, what are we going to do?
We can’t just let our girlfriend be homeless, now can we? What kind of boyfriends would we be in that case? I stand up.
“So, do you want to see where you are going to live?”
Chapter 14
Olivia
I overhear the guys talking, plus a voice I don’t recognize. It must be Bubba. He’s back already?
My stomach contracts uncomfortably. If Bubba doesn’t approve the job… doesn’t approve of me… everything is going to be terrible.
The voices seem to be coming from down the hall from the guys’ quarters, so I slip on some tennis shoes and yoga pants, plus a dark-colored tank top that I hope is not too revealing. Quietly I dart down the hallway and down the stairs toward the kitchen. It is still early, and I don’t want to interrupt their conversation.
As soon as I get to the kitchen, instinct takes over. Wow, what a gorgeous place. I pick out stainless steel bowls, whisks, and find the selection of cast iron pans. With the burner on medium-high, I set a couple of pans to heat up and whip up a quick batter of cornmeal with some chopped jalapeno and cheddar cheese.
Instead of frying the eggs, I decide to bake them in cupcake cups. I don’t know how everybody likes their eggs, so in a pinch, this is the easiest way to make sure they are acceptable to everybody. Sprinkling a little bit of chopped pepper and onion on each of the cups, I pop them into the oven and look around for some fruit to cut up.
Happily, I find a quart of Greek yogurt in the refrigerator, along with some berries and even a few vanilla bean pods. Apparently, somebody was lying about their ability to cook. Nobody keeps vanilla bean pods unless they are serious about making some delicious stuff.
But that’s okay. I’m glad they made space for me. I do love to cook, and the thought of whipping up a morning feast for my guys…
My guys.
Is this really happening? It makes my insides turn over to think about it. My guys! My big, strong, stubborn, infuriating, overprotective…
Actually, that’s not so bad.
Cantaloupe is excellent. And strawberries! And a… What is this? Mango? Papaya? I always forget which is which. That’s okay, they serve the same function.
While I whisk the Greek yogurt with some agave and vanilla, I reflect on the situation. I can’t seem to get my head around it all at once, but I can skirt around the edges and peek inside. Frankly, it’s a little overwhelming to think about all at once. But then again, it’s also wonderful.
Sometimes, I guess you have to break everything down to build it back up again. Because that’s what’s happening. Today is the day that makes or breaks everything and it’s out of my control. Depending on what Bubba says, either we go over to my apartment and pack up and move all my stuff, or I leave the firehouse without a job, without a place to stay, and without a plan. Either I have the most comfortable home and perfect job, or I end up homeless.
Okay! That’s terrifying. Let’s think about that more some other time, how about that?
Footsteps on the stairs come at just the right moment. The bacon is crackling, and the cornbread is just brown around the bottom. I swipe the spatula around the outside of the pan, careful to use a pot holder because I am so prone to burning myself. It comes out in a neat circle that I lay in the middle of the cutting board, then use a serrated knife to slice it into thick wedges. This kitchen is definitely well equipped. It makes cooking even more of a pleasure.
Laying the cornbread on the table next to a bottle of honey, I quickly clear the table and make room for the other items. A giant pile of bacon. Eggs in cups dotted with peppers and flecks of feta cheese. And a bowl of sweetened Greek yogurt topped with mounds of fresh fruit.
The guys come into the kitchen, sleepy but smiling, just as the timer goes off for the coffee. I depress the plunger in the pot and set it proudly in the middle of the table. From around the back of them, a fourth man steps to the front. He is much older than the rest of them, with a big belly and rainbow suspenders holding up his trousers. His white mutton chop sideburns fluff out from his jolly cheeks.