Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(58)
By the time I turn off the Eat at Joe’s sign in the far window, my feet are throbbing, my face is oily, my hands are raw and my back hurts. Needless to say, I’m in a bit of a mood. Because I would hate to snap at Georgie, I send him home early (Judy’s long gone), and Octavio and I clean up in silence.
“Everything okay, boss?” he asks as he shrugs into his jacket.
“How long have you been married, Octavio?” I ask, wringing out the dishrag.
“Eight years,” he smiles.
“You and Patty seem really happy,” I say.
“Oh, we are.”
“I have a feeling I’m never going to find someone,” I say, and suddenly that tight-throated feeling is back.
Octavio gives me a thoughtful look. “What?” I ask him.
“Malone came in today,” he says. “Never seen him here before.”
I snort. “Yeah. He came in to thank my brother. Jonah gave him a hand yesterday.”
“Hmm.” Octavio is a man of few words. “Well. Good night, boss.”
“Bye, big guy.” And it’s only four o’clock.
It’s beautiful out, finally, fifty degrees or so. The trees have the soft fuzz of buds on them, the palest green imaginable, and the wind is salty and gentle. Unfortunately, I’m too busy today to take a bike ride or even a decent walk. Instead, I bake some brownies for tomorrow’s dessert offering. Then I load up the car and head over to the firehouse.
I get paid to cook their monthly dinner, and though it’s not much, it’s one of those fees that helps, especially during the off-season. While I’m able to pay all my bills each month, there’s usually not a lot left over. Mornings like today’s are few and far between. I know I should have a cushion in case something goes wrong, but I’m tapped out. Winning the best breakfast title would help, even if it was just to get people from neighboring towns to take a drive in on the weekends.
Colonel settles himself down in the corner of the firehouse kitchen while I unload the car. The soft April air beckons, and I wish again that I could take a bike ride, but by the time I’m finished, it will be getting dark. Plus, Colonel needs to get home. He seems stiff today, quieter than usual.
“You okay, pup?” I ask him. He looks at me with his beautiful eyes, but his tail doesn’t wag. “Who’s my pretty boy?” I croon, kneeling to stroke his head. There. His tail swishes. I give him a piece of roast beef and get to work.
What’s Malone doing tonight? I wonder, then immediately purge the thought from my head. Malone is a callous user, and I’m no better. My behavior toward him has been embarrassingly slutty, says a chastising inner voice sounding exactly like my mom. Fools rush in where angels fear to bed, she’d say. And in this case, she’d be correct. I snap on the radio to drown out my self-condemnation.
The boyssorry, firefightersstart filing in around five-thirty, Jonah among them. He waves to me but is engrossed in a conversation with the head of the truck committee…the firefighters are convinced that Gideon’s Cove needs a ladder truck, though we’d also need a new structure to house it, which would be just fine with the boyssorry, firefighters.
I set up the Sterno burners and bring out the trays of food, basic, hearty fareroast beef, horseradish mashed potatoes, green beans, pesto chicken, pasta and sauce. Twenty or so guys usually show up. Chantal pokes her head in the kitchen.
“Hey, girlfriend,” she says.
“Hey, Chantal,” I answer. “I forgot you’re a member here.” I grin as I say it.
“Best thing I ever did,” she sighs dramatically. “Community service and all that crap. Not to mention the best-looking guys in town.”
“I didn’t realize sleeping with the fire department was community service,” I retort, pouring the sauce over the ziti.
“Oh, it is, it is. Don’t let her talk you out of it, Chantal,” Jonah says, coming in and putting an arm around my laughing friend. “And here’s a fireman who needs your special skills.”
“You’re disgusting,” I tell him. Chantal purrs.
“Wanna test some hose?” Jonah murmurs, ignoring me.
“Jonah, leave us,” I command, and for once, my little brother obeys. “You want to go out later on, grab a beer or something?” I ask Chantal. Her eyes are still on my baby brother. His ass, to be precise. “Chantal!”
She jumps. “Oh, sorry, Mags,” she says. “I’ve got plans.” Her voice changes. “Hi there, Chief,” she coos, her voice dropping into a sultry croon.
“How’s my little recruit?” Chief Tatum croons back. “Practice any search and rescue lately?”
“Okay, I can’t take anymore,” I say, sounding quite peeved even to my own ears. “Come on, Colonel. I don’t want you hearing this kind of talk, anyway.” Chantal and the fire chief don’t seem to notice.
I bring some ziti to Mrs. K. and heat it up for her. Then I help her find her comfortable slippers, “not those horrible ones that make my bunions ache.” But I’m edgy and irritable tonight and make my visit quick. Faced with my long flight of stairs, Colonel turns to me, and I boost him all the way up.
Adding insult to injury, the soup, bread, cheese and pie that I made for Malone are sitting in front of my door. I let Colonel inside and then go back and grab the food, slamming the pot on the counter. Frickin’ Malone. Let him starve, then. Who cares?