Fanning The Fire Marshal's Flame

Uno

After dinner Diarmid laughed when Conor dug out a deck of Uno cards. “Are you kidding?” He and Conor had each had three beer during dinner and he was feeling looser and more relaxed than when he’d first sat down. Whether Lita was truly relaxed around him was a mystery. If not, the woman could really compartmentalize well but she wasn’t glaring at him, and he wasn’t looking the gift horse in the mouth. “Not poker?”

“Nope. There’s no poker in this house, even with my mother gone.” He waved them at Lita, “you in?”

“I have work to do,” she frowned and bit her lip.

Diarmid watched her as she clearly wanted to make her escape, her green eyes darting to the door. She ran her tongue over her lips as she stacked the rest of the leftovers into the refrigerator, frowning at her father’s question. Tendrils of her auburn hair had escaped from the messy bun it was still twisted in, and it curled around her cheeks. Her skin was pale and under her eyes appeared bruised and she was tired. He knew intuitively his presence had caused the exhaustion he saw there. Even as drained as she was, she was a hauntingly beautiful young woman. Tonight, though she appeared frail, fragile and guilt consumed him.

He studied her while her father called her a chicken for not wanting to play against him and watched as the smile curved her lips. Lita O’Malley, as shy and quiet she had been as a child had always been competitive and when she had relaxed around her father’s friends, had a quirky sense of humor. It made sense considering how odd Conor himself could be. The guy made pornographic marble statues for a living so his kid had to be a bit off.

“Come on, Lita,” Conor was behind her now, his arms wrapped around her middle, tickling her ribs. “If you go to bed now, you’ll be up at two in the morning, and I don’t think Diarmid wants to hear you sneaking past him to go down to the lab and blow things up.”

“She blows things up in the lab?” he asked while Lita giggled and tried to escape her dad’s hands.

“Only when she can’t sleep,” Conor grunted, “or when she’s bored, angry, lonely or,” he was teasing her outright now, “actually all the freaking time.” He tickled her ribs more.

“Pops, stop,” she wriggled breaking free and running to hide on the other side of the table. “You’re a child.”

“Man child,” he nodded his blue eyes dancing. “Have a drink with your old man, play Uno and unwind before bed. If you go up there now with your head and heart heavy, you’ll be having nightmares.”

Diarmid understood immediately what Conor was doing. Having him in the house had her in a strange frame of mind. Doing an activity together the three of them would make it less contentious and less likely she would be negatively affected once she was on her own. He was easing her into Diarmid’s company and him into her good graces. It was evident his friend had taken his therapy very seriously.

“You’re not going to just let me go to bed, are you?” she tried not to laugh as he wiggled his fingers in her direction. She looked to Diarmid, “he’s insane. Fifty-five years old and still chases me like I’m six around the house.”

“Ah, but it makes you smile, Lita,” Diarmid winked at her before taking a drink of her beer. “I think all any dad wants is his kid to be happy.”

“Oh, guilt me into staying,” she put her hands to her hips and pursed her lips, frowning at him but her eyes were light.

“Is it working?” Diarmid asked her with a wide grin. “I haven’t played Uno since the last time I was here. You never know. You might win.”

She made a face at him, “might? I beat the ladies down at the shelter every time we play. I’m a pro.”

“Sure.” He made wide eyes as if he didn’t believe her.

“Arrogant asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

He could see despite her words, there was no anger on her face. She was enjoying the banter. “Fine. One game.” She pointed to Conor who was dancing with delight, “but you get the whiskey down. If I have to stay down here and listen to you talk about the glory days, I’m going to need the whiskey.”

“Done,” Conor grabbed three small tumblers and his bottle of Jameson down from the cupboard.

“Do you remember the time we caught Lita stealing sips of your drink?” Diarmid asked as they sat back down at the kitchen table. He jumped when she kicked him under the table. “What’s that for?”

“I was grounded until I was thirty for that. Hush up. He forgot.” Her green eyes danced as Conor grimaced at her. “He’s finally at an age where his memory is slipping.”

“My memory isn’t slipping. I simply acknowledge you are a woman of the new millennia, and you are capable of living your own life.” He leaned sideways to Diarmid to whisper, “besides if I piss her off, she won’t cook my eggs.”

“Speaking of living our own lives,” she shuffled the deck of cards. “What gives with you and Isla at the bar?”

Diarmid winced as Conor reached behind him and smacked him on the side of the head. He gave a laugh as his friend scowled knowing exactly who had ratted him out.

“Nothing.” Conor glared at her. “It’s my favorite pub. The beer is cheap. My friend owns it and screwing around with his new bartender isn’t on my list of priorities. I want to keep going there and if she’s there, and I diddle with her, I can’t go back.”

“Diddle?”

Diarmid couldn’t help the grin on his face as Lita mocked her father’s choice of words. She had thrown her head back and laughed loudly, exposing the long length of her neck. Her eyes closed and her mouth wide apart as she roared at her father’s terminology. She was gorgeous when she was laughing.

“She’s a kid, Lita.”

“She’s older than me!” Lita giggled as she poured whiskey into her glass and then dealt the cards out.

“She just turned thirty. I was at the pub when she was celebrating her birthday. Asked me for a birthday kiss.”

“Did you oblige?” Lita asked enjoying his misery.

“No. I bought her a drink instead and paid my tab in full and went home.”

Diarmid laughed, “she’s a pretty girl, Conor. You could do worse.”

“I could do better,” he grumbled. “Someone at least two decades older, thank you very much. You like her so much, you date her.”

“Nope. I told you. I’m on hiatus. Until I get the demon out of my condo, there will be no dating for this fella.”

Lita’s mocking laugh made him take notice she was enjoying his misery.

“What about you Lita?” Diarmid asked mischievously. “The guy who was calling you this morning, did he stop or is your phone on silent.” He pulled his leg back away from her flailing feet. He grinned as he looked at his cards.

“My phone is not on silent. I told him I wasn’t interested and if he kept calling, I’d shoot him in the balls.”

“Shoot him?” This was new.

“Lita shoots guns now,” Conor made big eyes at Diarmid.

“Makes me feel safe.”

“Took her to the g*n range and she outperformed every single person there, man and woman. Embarrassed the hell out of three cops and a detective. It was fantastic.” Conor spoke with pride.

“I have three skills. Dancing, shooting, and blowing s**t up. I don’t understand why there isn’t a line up of men out the door dying to propose.”

“Four skills,” Diarmid teased her, “you cook a mean hash. Breakfast this morning was amazing.” He played a card to make her miss her turn and she held up a single finger behind the hand she held. He chuckled at her actions.

“She can cook,” Conor admitted, “but don’t tell anyone. I don’t want her to move out. She’s a great roomie.”

“You need a wife,” Lita threw down a pickup two card at her next turn and Conor grunted at the move.

“What do I need a wife for? Even if you got married and moved out, you’d still come back and take care of me,” he winked at her.

“Never getting married,” she scoffed.

Diarmid lifted an eyebrow as he played a reverse card, and she missed another turn. “What’s wrong with getting married?”

“I don’t know Diarmid?” she turned the question back at him. “What’s wrong with getting married?”

He spoke truthfully, “are you kidding? If I met the right woman, I’d get married. Someone to grow old with like my folks? I love the idea of having a partner around all the time. I just haven’t found the one.”

“You lived with someone for eighteen months and couldn’t seal the deal.”

“She was crazy. I knew in my gut she was nuts. I trust my gut. It never steers me wrong.”

“If your gut is so on point,” she played a pickup two card and smirked at him, “then what the hell took you eighteen months to run from your own house with your tail between your legs.”

“I’m a nice guy,” he shrugged and grinned. “I can’t help it. My ma raised me right. You don’t make a girl cry. You never raise your hand or your voice to a woman and you don’t leave a girl in worse shape than she started with you. Raise a woman up, never tear her down.” He quoted his mom’s favorite line. “It’s how my brother got my sister-in-law. She is his queen. He would move heaven and earth for her and their kids. I want what they have. I just haven’t found the one.” He played a card and grinned at her frown, “you know Conor, I think your daughter expected me to be a player who thinks all women are out to get him just because a few have done me wrong. I might not be ready today, tomorrow, or even next week, month or year, to have another relationship but I’m not dumb enough to say never. My ma always told me, love comes when you least expect it.”

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered as she drank back her whiskey, “he’s the b***h in the relationship. Girls walk all over you.”

Diarmid laughed at her words, “I’m not perfect and I know I have issues. I believe there is give and take in a relationship. I work twenty hours a day and sleep three. Any woman who is going to put up with my s**t deserves to be worshipped.”

“Not to mention she has to have the balls in the relationship,” Conor quipped earning a cackle from his daughter.

“I admit, I like a strong-minded woman. Who the hell wants to deal with a chick who licks your boots?” Diarmid knocked and grinned, “Uno.”

“You like a woman telling you what to do?”

“No,” Diarmid held his forefinger up and shook it at Lita as if annoyed with her question. “I don’t like anyone telling me what to do. I think for a relationship with me to work, a woman has to know her own worth and not be stuck in the dark ages thinking I need to make every decision in the household. I have no use for two-hour debates on where we should eat, what to do on the one Saturday off a month I might have, or which scented candle smells best in the bathroom.” He grinned as he played his last card earning groans from the two at the table. “If she wants to tell me we’re having pizza for dinner, doing a farmer’s market on Saturday and vanilla smells best, then I will happily leave those decisions to her because I have better things to do.”

“Such as?” Lita was shaking her head as she marked their scores down on paper. “Whilst working twenty-hour days and sleeping three, what are you contributing to the oh so wonderful relationship where she gets an hour of your time after she makes all the decisions for the pair of you?”

Diarmid gave her a cocky grin, “I have my talents.”

“Hey, she’s my kid,” Conor griped and took a swig of his whiskey. “Keep it clean.”

“Just saying, there’s a reason even with all my annoying traits, they stay.” The whiskey was warming his blood and suddenly the need to get back at the two of them for teasing him was a necessity.

“It’s your bank balance,” Lita smirked at him. She knew he came from an infinitely wealthy family. The rest of his family had been investment brokers. He was the odd one out.

“While my bank balance is quite hefty, I assure you, my cash flow, house, car or my cabin in the Catskills are not what keeps the women crazily attached to me.”

“Diarmid, seriously, if you tell my daughter this with me sitting right here, I will vomit.” Conor warned him again.

“She’s asking.”

“I’m definitely asking.” Lita made wide eyes at her father, “especially if it’s making you uncomfortable dad.”

“Do you know what his nickname was at the firehall, Lita?” Conor asked distastefully.

“Dumpster Diver.”

Her father’s head snapped back, “you knew that one?”

“Yeah, the guys talked around me.” She shrugged and played a card. “Is there another one I didn’t know?”

Diarmid was cocky as he watched her act brave around her father. Something about her tonight had him at first wanting to apologize profusely, offer her every kind word he could think of while she glared at him but for the last ten minutes, she’d been mouthy and not very much like the little Lita he had known years ago. No, this woman in front of him was judgemental and a bit mean-spirited, dishing out rude insults and trying to get under his skin yet he could see he was slowly winning her over. Why he felt the need to shock her and make her see him in a completely different light was inexplicable however the urge was powerful. He wanted her looking at him in all the lights and the alcohol urged him on.

“Don’t do it Diarmid,” Conor groaned. “She’ll be sneaking down the stairs at two in the morning with a flashlight and it won’t be to check out the basement. It will be to see if you’re lying. She’s inquisitive as hell.”

“Well, I will ask you respect my personal boundaries of not trying to look into my gym pants, Ms. Lita O’Malley.”

“Whoa, hold up. Are you suggesting you have a nickname, correlating to your junk, which you believe is why the women go crazy and refuse to leave you?”

“I am saying exactly this,” Diarmid grinned broadly.

“Oh this, I have to hear,” she folded an arm over her chest, her eyes narrowed on his face as she lifted a glass to her lips and took a sip. “Come on then. What is it?”

Diarmid played a card making her pick up four and changed the color to red. He watched her sipping her drink and casting glances at her father who looked absolutely mortified to be sitting here in the middle of the conversation. “We’re all adults, Conor.”

“She is my kid.”

“You build three-dimensional p**n in your backyard, and she promotes it for you.” Diarmid tossed back and ducked from Conor’s smack.

“You’re stalling or lying, or both.” She threw down a card and stared between the two men. She took a big mouthful of her drink just as he spoke.

“Leviathan.” Conor spit out before Diarmid could speak and Diarmid looked to his friend and saw his ears were as red as his hair. “They called him Leviathan because one of the guys saw him getting out of the bath at the firehall and said it was like a serpent coming out of the ocean. Thought he was under attack, or an anaconda was in the tub with him.” He tossed his whiskey like it was a shot and rubbed his forehead.

Diarmid turned his smug gaze back to the redhead who was openly staring at her father in horror. “Any questions, Little Lita?”

She shook her head and dumped the last of the whiskey into her glass, following her father’s example and swallowing it in one go.

Diarmid considered quite possibly it was the first time the two people at the table had ever been rendered silent. He tossed a card down, rapped his knuckles gleefully on the table, proclaimed Uno, and linked his fingers behind his head and smirked. He was feeling positively victorious.