whether to order two meals for lunch at the Main Street Diner. All I can think about on my way there is how I saw Sarah over the weekend. As much as I want to see her again, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.
I stop at an intersection and look around when I see people standing with confused expressions on their faces. They’re pointing toward Rose’s house. As I drive forward, Old Man Browning flags me down. Slowing my patrol car to a stop, I roll down my window and immediately hear the smoke detector blaring. It puts me into a panic, and I rush out of my car.
“It just started going off. I knocked, but no one answered,” he says, following me.
“Thanks, I’ll take care of it from here.” I cross the street and immediately pound on the door. The beeps continue to blare out, but I continue knocking anyway.
“Mrs. Rose? Mr. Rose? Sarah?” I shout but get no response. I peek through the window and see Sarah running around the kitchen, frantically waving a towel. I tap on the window to get her attention.
When she finally turns in my direction, I point at the door. She looks relieved as she rushes and swings open the door. I move around her, allowing my instincts to take over as I quickly assess the situation. As soon as I see the grease fire, I open the fridge, grab the baking soda, and pour it on top. Picking up the lid, I place it over the pan to make sure it’s out. I slide it off the stove, then turn to her with wide eyes.
“Oh thank God,” she exhales her words in one breath while holding her hand on her chest. The towel she was using to try to beat the flames out with is still tight in her fist. “I tried water, and that was a huge mistake. Then I panicked because I couldn’t find the fire extinguisher, but it’s not like I’d know how to use it anyway.”
I give her a pointed look. “It would’ve caused a bigger mess than necessary. Guess you didn’t learn how to cook in Chicago.” I chuckle. “Or any basic fire safety.”
She narrows her eyes and glares. “I’m always working. I can’t even keep a houseplant alive, so trust me when I say learning to cook wasn’t a priority. But my parents are at work, and I was bored, so I thought I’d fry some chicken. How hard can it be if the tutorials on YouTube are only a minute long? I just didn’t realize how hot the oil was or that the chicken was still frozen.”
Sarah glances at the oven, and I notice her expression change. She quickly pulls out a tray of burnt cookies, then places them on the counter. “Great. These are ruined too. I guess today is not my lucky day.”
I try, but it’s impossible to stop my laughter. “Damn.”
“This is what happens when I try new things.” She sighs. “I guess no matter how old I get, I still find trouble somehow.”
“Or it finds you.” My expression softens when I drink her in. She’s wearing a red sweater and jeans that look as if they were painted onto her petite frame. Our eyes meet, and I take the opportunity to spend more time with her today. “Well you know I’m not gonna let you starve, so how ’bout I take you to lunch?”
She tilts her head. “I’d like that, Cole. It’ll give us a chance to catch up and save me from eating a crappy sandwich for lunch. I won’t be turning the stove on again, lesson learned.”
A smile touches my lips. “We should probably open some windows so your dad doesn’t lose his shit when he comes home and takes a whiff of this stench.”
“That’s a great idea,” she says with a nod. Sarah opens the back door, and I take care of all the windows in the kitchen. Ten minutes later and the smoke is gone. She grabs some air freshener to cover up the burnt smell while I clean up the mess I made with the baking soda. The house almost looks as immaculate as her mother keeps it.
Sarah leaves the window open above the sink but closes the others.
“You know they’re probably going to notice something’s not right,” I tease, walking outside with her next to me.
She snorts and shrugs. “I doubt they’d be surprised. Mom knows I do food delivery every day or eat