Crazy Hot Love (Dirty Dicks 2)

“Did you know he’s the reason I became a firefighter?”

Claire’s eyes widen as she washes her food down with her drink. “I had no idea.”

“Watching him that day—running in and out of the building, worried about nothing other than getting those kids to safety—was truly inspiring. For years after I had dreams about the fire, about how heroic your father was. At first, they started as nightmares, but as I got older, they transformed into something more. During one dream in particular, your father yanked me out of the bushes and told me to help out. That seemed like a pretty good idea to me, so I guess that dream changed my life.”

Claire gets a little teary, and while I wanted her to know about the influence her father had on my career, I also want to keep our date light and fun.

“He would be proud to know that,” she says.

“Thank you.”

“My dad would’ve loved you, Trevor.”

When she finishes off her funnel cake, Claire dumps the paper plate in the trash.

“Come here.”

She leans over the table. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Because you have powdered sugar all over your face.” I use the napkin to wipe a smudge off. “No idea how you got it on your forehead.”

“I talk with my hands, remember?” She opens her mouth and points to the corner. “You missed a spot.”

Tossing the napkin to the table, I draw her face toward mine and kiss away the white residue.

“Mmm… Sweet,” I say. “I’m not sure your dad would appreciate the thoughts running through my head right now.”

Claire laughs. “You’re probably right.”

I stand up, hold my hand out, and pull her to her feet. “Are you ready for the cotton candy?” I ask, holding out the tub.

“Oh no. I’m saving that for later.”

I tuck the tub under my arm and reach for her shake-up. “Can I have a drink?”

She hands it to me. I take a big sip, and when she reaches for it, I spin around so she can’t get it.

“Hey, give me that.”

She keeps reaching, but I keep moving. By the time she manages to grab her drink, we’ve bumped into three different people, and we’re both laughing uncontrollably.

“I’m so sorry,” she says to a little old lady.

The woman gives us a look and keeps walking.

Eyes wide, Claire turns to me. “I can’t believe you made me plow into an old lady.”

“I didn’t make you do it.”

She narrows her eyes. “Uh-huh. Next time we’re getting you your own.”

I stop next to the ping-pong toss. “You’re thinking about next time?”

Pressing her lips together, Claire fights a grin and nods. “Are you?”

“I’m thinking about the next hundred times.”

A slow smile spreads across her face just as a young boy walks by.