"I'm clever like a fox," she giggled. "So you'll plan to come up here soon?"
"Definitely. I'll call you as soon as I know what weekend is best."
"I can't wait. So, what are you up to for the rest of the evening?"
"I don't know." I shrugged as I sat back down in my chair, thinking that my lack of plans for the evening was more than a little pathetic for a woman my age. "I'll probably pick up some wine from Mabel's and make myself dinner. I found one of your recipes the other day and it sounded really good. Figured I'd give it a shot."
"Oh no," Eliza groaned from the other end. "Stay out of the kitchen, unless you're planning on using the microwave."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked in affront.
"It means you're a terrible cook, and don't pretend it's not true."
She might have had a point. I wouldn't be joining the ranks of Master Chef anytime soon, but that didn't mean I couldn't figure my way out around a kitchen. "I'm not that bad," I argued. "I can follow a damn recipe, Eliza. How hard can it be? Besides, there's no way I'm as terrible as Harlow."
"No. You're worse. Harlow's the one that will make meals that'll give people dysentery, but you're the one who'll burn the house to the ground."
"That's not true!" It might have been a little true. "That one time was an accident! And the fire wasn't that big. You're exaggerating."
"Stay out of the kitchen," she answered dryly.
I didn't make any promises before ending the phone call. I was going to make dinner for myself, and once I successfully finished, I was going to text her pictures to rub it in her face.
I'd show her.
OKAY SO MAYBE I wasn't going to show her after all.
Coughing to clear some of the smoke from my lungs, I watched on in embarrassment as the firefighters began descending the stairs that led from my apartment into the back alley behind the café and my dance school.
Honestly, I probably could have gotten the fire out myself, it wasn't that big, but I'd freaked when I saw the flames and immediately called 911.
"Well, the fire's out. It was small so there was no real damage, just some nasty smoke. You'll probably have to air the place out for a while." Quinn stated as he propped his hands on his hips, staring me down. I tried not to notice how sexy he looked in his tight navy fire department t-shirt and bunker pants, but damn it, it was hard! The man might be an android, but he was still fine as hell. Even with that disapproving scowl on his face.
"Thanks," I offered in a small voice.
"You got lucky. It could have been a lot worse."
Rolling my eyes indignantly at his tone of voice, a tone my own father had used on me many times, the embarrassment of my situation started to wear off, and I started to get pissed. "You know, the term self-cleaning oven is really misleading," I stated in an effort to defend myself. "Calling something self-cleaning when you're actually supposed to clean it first is just asking for trouble! I have half a mind to write a nasty letter to Maytag and express my displeasure. Oh! And while we're on the subject-"
"We're on a subject? I thought you were just ranting."
I ignored Quinn's dig and carried on, because yes, I was ranting. And once I started there was no stopping it. "What's the deal with dishwashers, huh? Dish. Washer. You'd think that would mean it cleans your dishes, right? But noooo. You actually have to scrub all food particles off first or they come out with dried-up crud on them. I'm better off just hiring a person to clean my oven and dishes since the thousand dollar machines meant to clean stuff don't actually clean!"
I may have been a little out of breath by the time I finished, and I may have garnered an audience from the other firefighters standing in the alley, but the only thing I could focus on at that very moment was the fact that Quinn was watching me, his arms crossed over his chest, with a tiny smirk playing on his lips.
"You finished?" he asked a few seconds later.
I looked up at the dark sky and gave it some thought. "Yes. Since washing machines and dryers actually do what they claim to do, I think I'm finished."
And then he went and shocked the hell out of me by throwing his head back with a loud bark of laughter.
"Holy shit," I breathed out, watching the magnificence that was Quinn laughing. The man was hot as sin on any given day, but add in a laugh and panties all over Pembrooke were at risk of combusting.
"What?" he asked once he was finished, a smile still tilting his full lips upward. It was a great smile, even if it didn't quite meet his eyes.