Blue Smoke

I’m saying is you’re one of the few women I’ve seen who make the cut. You’ve got the stamina, the instincts, the brains. And you don’t lack guts either. So I wonder why you’re not signing on.”
    She picked at another nacho. He wasn’t one to heap on praise, she knew. So she took his observations seriously and gave him a serious answer. “I’ve thought about it, and I get caught up in it sometimes. During training, or when I’m working a shift. But fighting fires isn’t what pullsme. It has to pull you. Knowing how they work, why. Figuring how they start, why, who starts them. That’s my thing. Running into a burning building takes a singular kind of courage and drive.”
    “Seen you do it,” he pointed out.
    “Yeah. Well, yeah, I needed to do it, to see how it’s done. But it’s not my life’s work. It’s going into that building after, putting it together and finding the why.”
    “The department has fire inspectors. Minger’s one of the best.”
    “Yeah. I considered going that direction. John’s, well, he’s one of my major heroes. But . . . there’s something else a lot of people, a lot of civilians, don’t understand. Arson. What it does, not just to property. What an incendiary fire can do to people, to a neighborhood, to business, to economy. To a city.”
    She lifted a dripping nacho, shrugged to lighten things up. “So that’s my mission in life. You fight them, Fitzgerald. I’ll do the cleanup.”
    H e wasn’t a hand holder, she noted, but he walked her to her door. And once he had, backed her right up against it for another of those lush, out-of-nowhere kisses.
    “It’s early yet,” he said when he lifted his head.
    “It is.” And it annoyed her that a couple of casual dates made it too early for her personal gauge. “But . . .”
    He winced, but those foggy lake eyes held humor. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. Want to try to catch a game this week?”
    “Yeah, I’d like that.”
    “I’ll call you, we’ll set it up.” He started to walk away, turned back, kissed her again. “You’ve got great lips.”
    “I like yours, too.”
    “Listen, do you have any vacation time coming?”
    “I can probably squeeze out a day in addition to my off days. Why?”
    “We’ve got this place down on the Outer Banks. Old beach cottage. It’s not bad. We could take a couple days down there next time I’m off if you can work it. Hook Steve and Gina into it.”

    “A couple days at the beach? When do we leave?”
    He flashed that grin again. “We’ll juggle the schedules, get it set up.”
    “I’ll start packing.”
    She let herself in, did a little victory dance around the tiny living room.
    The beach, hot guy, good friends. Life was currently just excellent.
    Too good, in fact, to stay in an empty apartment on a summer evening.
    She grabbed her keys again and went back out.
    She caught the tail of Hugh’s car turning left at the corner, and absently noted the car that turned behind him. She kissed her fingers in his direction, then set off the opposite way to walk to Sirico’s.
    It was good to be back in the neighborhood. She’d enjoyed her time in the group house, and she’d liked the broom closet she’d been able to finesse during her training at the Shady Grove campus west of Baltimore. But this was home.
    The row houses with their white steps or little porches, pots of flowers on stoops or Italian flags flying from rooftop poles.
    There was always someone around to call out a greeting.
    She took her time, admired some of the murals painted on window screens and wondered if she should ask her mother to do one for her and Gina. Probably needed to run that one by the landlord, but since it was Gina’s second cousin, she doubted it would be an issue.
    She detoured half a block to watch a few minutes of a boccie game between old men in colorful shirts.
    Why hadn’t she thought to ask Hugh if he wanted to stroll down, check out some of the local color?
    What she should do is ask him, casually, if he wanted to take in the open-air movie on Friday night. It was a neighborhood tradition. Movie night meant live music, too—which could lead to dancing. She might put those red shoes to use, after all.
    She’d think about that, maybe make it a double with Gina and Steve. But for now, she might as well enjoy the rest of her evening.
    She reminded herself that Sunday nights were busy at Sirico’s. If she wanted a few minutes with some of the