While we ate, we talked. I learned that her name was Rayna and that she worked part-time at a local smoke shop. She moved to town about two months ago and other than the prick at the sandwich shop, she’s been treated nicely by everyone. I was glad to hear that. I took a lot of pride in my town and the folks who lived there. I grew up here and I had the privilege of seeing the place grow from a small agricultural town to a thriving community that would probably be better described as a small city than a town. Despite all of that, it still retained its small-town charm, including hospitality.
“So, what about you?” she asked. “You’re a firefighter. Is that what you’ve always wanted to be?”
I nodded. “My dad was a firefighter and so was my grandfather. I guess it’s in my blood.”
“Hmm,” she said coyly. “Fire in your blood? I like the sound of that.”
My body began to respond again, and I was thankful for the table to hide it.
She was equally flirtatious the rest of the meal and at the end of it, I wasn’t surprised when she invited me to continue this conversation in a hotel room. I took her to one a few miles from the burger joint that was nicer than the motels in the immediate area. When we pulled up, she said, “Ooh, fancy. What’s the occasion?”
I smiled at her. “I just think a woman like you deserves a nice place to sleep.”
She frowned at me and said in mock surprise, “Sleep? Who said I was sleeping with you?”
My smile widened and I said, “Well, we don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to.”
Once more, her voice became coy as she said, “I like the sound of that.”