Leaving Normal by Stef Holm (whitelam books txt) 📗

Fred's eyes dropped to the clerk's name badge^just to make sure.

Iris.

He knew it! Irises for Iris. He'd delivered them to her himself.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

She obviously didn't remember him.

"I'm looking for the, ah…" He lost his damn train of thought when she gazed into his eyes. Not to mention, she wore red lipstick that drew his attention.

"Yes?"

"The, ah…" He couldn't form the sentence. Then, unexpectedly, he asked, "What department do you work in?"

"Housewares—kitchen appliances and gadgets."

"Oh." Fred drank a slow sip of Dr Pepper, the wheels in his head spinning like an old Ford pickup in overdrive. "I'm looking for a gadget."

Now, that was the furthest thing from the truth that Fred Miller had said today, aside from a slight fib to the dentist about using dental floss every night. Sometimes he skipped a night if he fell asleep before Leno came on.

"What kind of gadget?" she asked.

"Just a…ah…gadget. I'll know it when I see it." He set his soda pop cup down on the basket seat. "Maybe you can show me where they all are and I'll recognize it."

"I'd be happy to."

She was making him happy just by standing there.

Blame it on the squirrels, but Fred felt himself go a little nutty over a clerk named Iris.

Chapter Ten

Cats and Frogs

"Who's the smart-ass?" Walcroft growled, yanking the highlighted newspaper off his bunk.

Tony went on making his bed, pretending he didn't know what Walcroft was talking about.

The captain walked by, stopped in the doorway and couldn't hold back a laugh.

Walcroft wadded the newspaper and pitched it at Captain Palladino. "If you weren't the captain, I'd tell you where to shove that."

Unable to keep his humor in check, Tony busted up laughing. He and Rob had taken this morning's personal section of the newspaper and highlighted the men-seek-ing-men gay ads and left them on Walcroft's bed. It was juvenile, but damn funny watching his reaction.

"Shut up, Cruz." Walcroft got bent out of shape, but a smirk landed on his mouth as he snorted out a half laugh. "You guys are a bunch of pussies. You were looking at those ads for yourselves."

"Not me," the captain denied. "Tony."

"Bullshit," Tony countered, grinning. "If anyone's gay, it's Gable."

"What's the latest on that?" Walcroft asked. "Who's got the score?"

"I'm up one."

Tony and Gable had been playing tag ever since the omelet incident. The last prank Tony pulled off on Gable had been sneaking over to Station 3 and sabotaging the shower stall.

"I put a chicken bouillon cube in Gable's shower-head."

Walcroft grinned. "Now, that's fowl."

Captain Palladino shook his head with a grin. "Hey, let's get to daily duties. Grocery-store trip about three this afternoon? What do you guys feel like for supper? I'll cook."

"Chicken up the butt," Walcroft said. "Get a can of beer for it."

"Okay. I brought some new seasoning in. I'm not buying any rice or potatoes. I'm still on Atkins."

"Me, too," Walcroft said.

"Hell, I'm not." Tony was getting tired of no starch with his protein.

"Yeah, Rocky mentioned you guys drinking down some beers at that charity event. Major carbs." Wally finished with his bed and threw his duffel bag on top. "So did you get lucky that night?"

Tony kept closemouthed. He grinned and let Walcroft think what he wanted.

The truth was, he and Sophia had parted company after the dancing had finished. She gave him her number and they'd gone on the obligatory "date" she'd bought—a candlelight dinner at the Cottonwood Grill, but he wasn't interested in having sex with her as his dessert. He'd made up his mind to take things slow after his divorce. It was too easy to get caught up in a new relationship in order to forget the last one.

The morning progressed with firehouse chores, not giving Tony any time to think about his love life—or rather, lack of one.

A Shift at Station 13 had just finished lunch, and Captain Palladino was in his office doing paperwork while Tony and Walcroft spent time in the garage checking over the chassis of the engine.

The day was marginally warm for March, a high in the mid-forties. Tony and Walcroft were listening to the radio, the hood up on the engine as they did routine maintenance.

It had been a quiet morning. Only one call—a non-injury traffic accident in the commuter rush. Tony hoped they wouldn't be too busy tonight, although if it was quiet during the day, that usually meant they would be up all night. He wanted to get in a good workout, then watch The Apprentice.

Usually, evening television wasn't the high point of Tony's day, but he was keeping a low profile, staying in most every night. He wanted to form a new daily pattern with just himself, nobody else involved. But it was hard. He missed having company.

On more than one occasion, he'd thought about inviting Natalie over for dinner, but he cut off that idea and didn't go through with it. Seeing her dressed up at the charity event and dancing with her had revealed too much about how she affected him. He didn't want to admit to himself that he could fall out of love with his wife one month, and be attracted to another woman in the next. It felt too soon. But then again, his divorce had been a long time in the making.

A song came on the radio that Tony liked and he sang along.

"I think in a former life, you were a rock-and-roll singer 'cause you've always got to sing with the tunes, Cruz," Wally observed, squeezing a hose line.

"Because I sing good," Tony said matter-of-factly.

"And you sure aren't full of shit about anything, either."

Tony simply smiled.

Traffic moved past the fire station at a leisurely pace. They were situated near a residential area and a stop sign was just a block away.

A car sped through the intersection, causing both Walcroft and Tony to look up at the same time as skid marks shrieked from the vehicle's tires.

"Jesus Christ," Wally exclaimed, dropping his tools and running