Fanning The Fire Marshal's Flame

Hungover

Her head was throbbing. What she needed was greasy breakfast foods and a large coffee and more sleep. She couldn’t say she was hungover because she hadn’t had too much to drink. No, her problems all stemmed from lack of sleep due to an insatiable man with a thing to prove. She gave a wave to her ride share driver and put her key in the lock of the house and stepped into the foyer and threw her coat over the hook by the door.

She heard snoring and paused. Her father did a lot of weird things, but snoring wasn’t one of them. Had he brought a guest home? She almost tiptoed back out of the house but then noted Diarmid crashed on the super sized sofa her father had bought a few years ago which barely fit into the living room. He was snoring as if having the best sleep of his life and she stared in amazement at the noise escaping his throat.

His legs were bent, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of gym pants, the blanket he’d been given on the floor. Grey sweatpants. She had never understood women’s fascination with them until this very moment when they clearly demonstrated he was a morning guy. She inhaled sharply at the thought. He was a good-looking man. A very good-looking man. At thirty-eight his hair was still cropped short, but she knew if he grew it out, it would be near midnight black. A grey hair wouldn’t dare taint his head. He was all kinds of fine laying there on her sofa.

As of her last psych eval, she also still believed he was the catalyst to her being drugged and assaulted and she grimaced at herself for even thinking of his perfectly carved chest and abs or the v disappearing into the low-slung and revealing sweats. She stood there glaring at him for being in her house and looking sexy as hell. As if suddenly aware he was being watched his snoring stopped and opened his eyes and looked right at her.

“Tie one on last night, did you?” she asked with a tilt to her head, trying to cover the fact she’d been overtly starting at his body like she was still a teenager.

“Maybe,” he groaned. “What time is it?”

“Sixish.”

“You’re just shamefully slinking in?” his voice was rumbly, and his eyes looked her up and down curiously.

“I don’t ever feel shame, Diarmid. Not ever.” She looked him over one more time boldly, gave a sad shake of her head as if disappointed in herself and then disappeared into the kitchen not missing the surprise on his face when she’d checked him out. If he wanted to lay bare chested on her sofa, he should be prepared to be ogled by a woman who couldn’t stand his face. She complained again to the powers that be how men should not be allowed to look as good as he did. It was unfair to the rest of the mere mortals of the world.

She heard his footsteps heading up the stairs towards the bathroom and shook her head, mumbling to herself. “Reign it in Lita. No man is worth this much irritation.”

She tossed her phone on the counter and washed her hands and dug through the fridge. She found leftover cold potatoes and decided she’d make a hash. Grease always cured a hangover, even the s****l kind.

Her phone rang and she made a face at the number and debated answering it. She remembered Ruiz once telling her Torres had shown up at her house when they first started dating and she’d bailed and didn’t answer her phone. She couldn’t have him showing up. She put it on speaker. “Stavros. You’re up early.”

The Greek accent floated into the air around her, “Imagine my surprise when I went to bring breakfast in bed to my lover and she was gone. For the third time in a row.”

“I keep telling you, we’re not lovers. It’s a hook-up with no emotional connection. We agreed. Besides,” she chopped a chunk of onion and threw it into the pan, “I’m not a breakfast kind of person. I usually don’t eat until at least lunchtime.” She lied without remorse.

“You came to my club. We drank and danced, and you came home with me, and you even fell asleep next to me. Then you disappeared while I went to make you breakfast. When are you going to stay for breakfast?”

“I told you, I’m more of a lunch kind of girl.” She threw a handful of chopped peppers into the pan. “Besides, do you really want to do the morning after chitchat? You don’t strike me the type of man who deals well with clingy women who won’t leave your condo.”

“After the things we did last night, I would be thrilled to do morning after chitchat with you. You are beautiful, Lolita. You should stay longer with me. We could have spent the entire day together.”

“Are you kidding? I’m barely walking erect after five hours of you. I can’t do a full day.”

His dark chuckle sent chills down her spine. “I only meant we could have done something fun and romantic. A walk in a park or a stroll on the beach.”

“Stavros, I thought we agreed we were hooking up. What you’re suggesting sounds very much like dating. I told you before, I don’t do dating. Dating means I end up liking you too much and you, my friend, are the worlds biggest s**t. The minute I start to like you for more than just your c**k, the sooner you start running in the opposite direction.”

“I think you misjudge the pull you have on me. I think if you allowed us to take the next logical step, we could have a mutually fulfilling relationship.”

“I think you’re still drunk from last night.”

“I had four drinks all night. I wasn’t the slightest bit drunk, and neither were you. You had three drinks all night which I personally let you pour from behind my bar because I like you. If you won’t stay for breakfast, let me take you for dinner.”

“Can’t.”

“You don’t eat dinner either?”

“I eat dinner.”

“Lolita, work with me. I like you. I know you like me. You spent significant amounts of time screaming my name last night and well into this morning. Let’s see where this takes us.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh admitting to herself she wasn’t as immune as she wanted to be. Being pursued by a man who was as single-mindedly focused on her as he appeared to be, was titillating. However, she knew she wasn’t wrong with what she told him. The minute she gave in, he would back away, and she’d be nursing a bruised heart, “Stavros, I’m not ready. You want to keep hooking up, I can hook up but sleeping at your place last night was a mistake. I thought you’d be cool about it this morning but you’re acting clingy, and we agreed from the first night if one of us got clingy it was done.”

“I agreed with this rule because I thought it would be you who would get clingy. I have changed my mind. I like you. Have dinner with me.”

She caught movement behind her and saw Diarmid openly eavesdropping on her conversation and from the look on his face he’d been listening awhile. She could read the disgust but there was something else in his expression she couldn’t put her finger on. She admitted she hadn’t even heard him come back down the stairs. He was stealthy for a huge guy. She turned back to her conversation and decided to use the oversized man in the kitchen to her advantage, “can’t have dinner with you. My father has friends in, and I promised to cook. He’ll burn the house down. In fact, they’re here right now. I have to go.”

“Can I call you later?”

“Yeah sure.” She shook her head and hung up on him. She dialed out, ignoring the bare-chested man in the kitchen who was leaning now against her refrigerator watching her with a curious expression. When her friend picked up, she didn’t even let her say hello. “Chavez, you said Stavros was b****y Greek mafia who goes through girls like underwear. He’s blowing up my phone.”

“What’s his problem?”

“He’s gone mad I left again while he was making breakfast. Granted I did have to sneak out, but I fell asleep after round four or five, I don’t know what it was, but he didn’t wake me and kick me out. It’s the third time now I’ve fallen asleep. He thinks we should be a couple. This is your fault. You said he was non-committal.”

“b***h, I’ve seen him disappear into his office with one girl and a different one come out. I don’t know what to say. How bendy are you?”

“Thirteen years of ballet school and I still dance. I can touch my toes to the back of my head, but this isn’t the point.” She heard the suck of air from the man beside her and she shot him a dirty look.

“It is very much the point.” Jesse chortled.

“I can’t go back to the club now and it’s my favorite. You said it wouldn’t make it weird but now it’s weird. I’ve hooked up with him five times and every time he’s damn near rendered me unconscious with the last three making me pass out. Now he’s asked me to dinner.”

“Stavros asked you to dinner. The club-owner Stavros? Asked you to dinner? Like a sixty-nine-type buffet or dinner, dinner.” She ignored the hiss of surprise at the question from Diarmid who apparently had no problems at all listening to her conversations. Asshole.

“Dinner, dinner,” she grunted and threw the potatoes and chunks of thick cut bacon into the pan. “You said he was a safe bet, and I wouldn’t have to kiss his stupid ring and I wouldn’t have to worry about him getting clingy like the last one.”

“I stand corrected. I underestimated your s*x goddess qualities. You and Arwen should compare notes on mafia lovers. Leave me out of it though, because one of them is my cousin.”

“Not even funny, Chavez. This is your fault.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who blew his mind,” she cackled loudly, “I bet it wasn’t only his mind.”

She chuckled, “it wasn’t only his mind. I have to go but just know, you are on my s**t list.”

“Noted.”

She hung up and grunted as she swirled the food around the pan. She looked at the man who was now seated at the kitchen table watching her carefully, “dad still sleeping?”

“I think so. His door is closed.”

“He must be beat. He’s usually up ahead of me.” She frowned in the direction of the stairs.

“You’re dating a mafia guy?” his tone was cool as he’d heard Jesse’s comment about comparing notes with Arwen.

“No. I f****d a mafia guy. Huge difference.” She flipped her hands in frustration over her situation. “Coffee?” she was trying to be polite, but the words felt they were choking her off. It was apparently obvious by his next question.

“Are you going to spit in it?”

“Why would I spit in your coffee?” she poured two cups and turned and slid one on the table.

“Because it’s clear you don’t like me.”

“Says who?”

“I’d be a shitty investigator if I couldn’t read people and I’m not a shitty investigator.”

“I don’t know you,” she turned away and moved back to the pan the smell of the grease making her headache lessen.

“You’ve known me since you were five.”

“I knew you from five to eighteen. I didn’t know you from eighteen to twenty-six. I’ve lived an entire life in those eight years, Diarmid as I’m sure you have. We don’t know each other.”

“Wow,” he blinked at the coolness to her tone.

She grabbed a second frying pan and added a good helping of oil to the pan and cracked eggs into it.

“Did I do something to you?”

“What could you have possibly done to me, Diarmid?” she cast a questioning look over her shoulder. “I was a kid when you were around and like I said, I haven’t seen you or spoken to you in years.”

“And yet, for all the talk of not knowing me, the air is frigid coming from you. I could stick my head in the freezer and be warmer.”

“Did you want a welcome home kiss?” she retorted smartly.

“I wasn’t expecting a kiss, but I wasn’t expecting hatred either.”

“Don’t hate you,” she grumbled, “I just don’t know you and I don’t deal well with strange men.”

“You’ve known me since you were five and even though we haven’t been in touch recently, it doesn’t mean we’re total strangers. God, how many ballet performances did I attend with your dad?”

“Who knows? You sure you weren’t his gay lover? Now, I think of it, you two were doing a lot of things most gay couples and their kid do.”

“Very funny,” he rolled his eyes.

She dumped portions of the hash between two plates, left enough in the pan for her father, threw an egg on top of each plate and set one in front of him and dropped cutlery in front of him. She sat opposite him

“What do you want from me?” she looked up at him seriously as she shoved a mouthful of greasy goodness into her mouth.

“I just want to know what changed? I used to come visit and you’d talk to me for hours.”

“And because I’m not hanging off your every word you feel slighted?”

“No, I want to know what I did to make you dislike me so much.”

“Diarmid, I was r***d and attacked, and you left. The last time I saw you, you patted me on the head and said how you were sorry you weren’t around to keep an eye on me and then I never heard or spoke to you again. You were dad’s friend. Not mine. Had you been my friend, you would have checked in on me. You were his friend. You checked in on him. Forgive me for not playing Suzie Homemaker on behalf of my father but I don’t owe you s**t, not even kindness.” She grabbed her plate and her coffee ignoring his startled gasp, “have a good day.”