Just One Kiss - J. Saman Page 0,25
an edge I shouldn’t be anywhere near.
“I think we’re just about ready to start.”
She clears her throat. “What’s next?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.”
Chapter Nine
MILES
“That is so cool!” she says as I pull some of the gather or molten glass onto the end of my blowpipe, rolling it around on the steel table so I can start to form it. I put it back through the glory hole to heat it and then remove it again, angling it down toward the ground so it can elongate.
“Come here,” I tell her, tucking myself in beside her, my chest to her back and arm. “Put your mouth here and blow.”
“You want me to blow on your pipe?”
You have no idea. “Come on, I bet you’re great at it.” I fight my grin as her eyes dance between amused, shocked, and panicked. I nod in encouragement and she places her mouth where I tell her to and blows hard before I quickly cap it off and put it back in the fire.
“Why do you keep doing that? Putting it back in the fire?”
“So it doesn’t ball up or become unworkable. You ready to blow some more?”
“Are you intentionally being dirty or is this just glass blower lingo?”
“Both. You’re fun to watch blush.”
“Or maybe you just like that I have a dirty mind.”
I stifle a groan. “Probably a lot of both. No more dirty talk, firefly, or you’ll distract me, and we’ll mess this all up. Or worse, burn ourselves.”
“That can happen?”
“Oh, it can happen. I have a few nice scars I can show you later.”
“And that’s not meant to be dirty? You showing me your… scars?”
I cock a brow, my mouth curling up into a sly grin. “You do have a dirty mind. I’m not sure I knew that about you before.”
“It’s not exactly something I was flaunting in high school. Glad I can keep you on your toes though, Miles.”
Can’t argue that.
We repeat the procedure before I score the end and roll the ball with a wet cherry wood mallet. “Here.” I take her hand, helping her to place the piece back in the fire, showing her how to spin it at the right speed so it doesn’t alter the shape we just created. “You’re good at this. A natural.”
“Well, if writing doesn’t pan out, maybe you can hire me on as a lackey.”
“Apprentice. We call them apprentices.”
“Is that a fancy term for unpaid help?”
“Something like that.”
She does it a few more times, but I can practically feel her curious gaze back on me.
“You called me firefly again.”
I pause, staring into the flames through the glory hole, blinking a couple of times before I take the pipe from her and finish off the spinning. “I hadn’t realized. Sorry.”
“I like it. Did you just come up with that last night?” From the tone of her voice, I get the impression she knows I didn’t.
“No,” is all I say as I pull the ball out of the fire and score it some more. “Tap the rod right here.”
“Thought not. You sure you want me to do that?” She juts her chin toward the end of the pipe and the ornament sitting on it.
I laugh. “I’m positive.”
She taps on the rod and the red ornament drops onto the kevlar I have set out and she lets out a small squeal of delight. “Oh my god. It’s so beautiful.” She bends in half, studying it and thankfully smart enough not to touch it. Her head tilts as her eyes narrow. “But it has a hole.” She turns her head over her shoulder to meet my eye. “How do we fill it?”
I bark out a laugh and wink at her. “Watch and I’ll show you.”
She grins, her enthusiasm infectious. Playful, dirty London is quickly becoming one of my favorite looks on her.
Pulling out my blowtorch, her eyes turn into twin saucers. “Step back,” I instruct, meeting her deer in headlights gaze. “Last chance to put something in it. And no, that was not a sexual reference.”
She shakes her head. “Can we leave it like this? It’s so pretty.”
I heat the end and add on some clear gather, twisting it and forming the loop that will attach with a string on to a tree.
“Done,” I tell her, putting the torch away.
“That’s it?”
“Almost. Put on these gloves and we’ll place it in the long-term kiln so it can slowly anneal or cool, otherwise we risk it cracking or shattering.”
Her small hands slide into my large Kevlar gloves and then