Goddess of Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

between someone’s grandma and someone’s cutesy two-year-old daughter.) Pea pulled at her sweater (why did it look so shapeless? She did have boobs. Really!) and checked herself in the rearview mirror of her fabulous new car. Pea groaned. Her makeup looked wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was wrong about it, but it just wasn’t…wasn’t…wasn’t anything. It wasn’t cute or sophisticated or sexy. And why did the new eye shadow she’d just talked herself into buying yesterday suddenly look orangish instead of the lovely blushing peach color it had seemed to be in the store? Naturally the eye shadow now clashed horribly with her mauve lipstick, which was all over her teeth. Pea rubbed it off vigorously. Then she glanced at her hair. How could the sky be clear and there be zero humidity today in Oklahoma, but her hair was still capable of frizzing out like the puff ball on a dandelion? What had she been thinking when she left it down? With a sigh of resignation, she pulled the scrunchie out of her purse and wrapped it around her hair. Then she grabbed the plate of brownies and walked through the parking lot to the front door of the fire station.
    It didn’t open. Were they closed? It was Saturday, but still. Fire stations didn’t close. Did they? They’d been at her house earlier that day. And fires happened twenty-four seven. No way could they actually be closed. Had she gone to the wrong door? She stood there, chewing her lip and looking around what she had assumed to be the front entrance to the old fashioned brick fire station. Maybe she should just leave the plate of brownies. They were wrapped in aluminum foil; they’d be fine. And she had written a quick thank you note (signed by Chloe), so they’d figure out who they were from, and probably wouldn’t worry about being poisoned by them or anything. Did firemen worry about being poisoned by thank you food? Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.
    Pea chewed her lip some more.
    This kind of thing was exactly what Stacy had talked to her about time and time again. Stacy wouldn’t just stand out here, undecided and pathetic with zillions of questions zinging through her mind. Stacy would have gone to the right door or whatever. Who was she kidding? The firemen would have caught one glimpse of blond and beautiful through the obviously two-way glass that framed the door (oh, great—were they all in there watching her right then?) and there would have been a mass rush to get the door open for her before—
    â€œMa’am?” The door opened and a man she recognized as one of the guys who had carried the ladder to the tree looked out at her.
    â€œOh, hi. The door was locked.”
    â€œYes ma’am. It’s always locked. You just have to ring the bell there on the side.”
    â€œOh,” Pea said, her face going hot as she saw the little sign over the doorbell that read PLEASE RING FOR ENTRANCE . “I brought Griffin these to thank him for getting my dog out of the tree,” she blurted out and lifted the plate.
    â€œHey, you’re the lady with the tree-climbing Scottie!” He laughed.
    â€œYep. That’s me.”
    â€œCome on in. I’ll get the captain.”
    He held the door for her and then motioned for her to sit on a bench that rested against the little lobbylike foyer. Pea sat and tried not to be too obvious about gawking around the fire station. About ten feet or so in front of her there was an arched doorway that led to the garage area where the fire trucks were kept. She could see the smooth cement floor and the front bumper of the nearest truck. To her right there was a counter that wrapped around to form what looked like a little communications area, complete with multiple-line phone equipment and complex radio stuff. The man who was sitting there nodded briefly to her and then went back to his book, which Pea recognized as