Aisling M. Albright
Dean tugged his collar. The crisp fabric chafed. He unlocked his new, department-issue cell phone as the door flew open and Gabby swept in, completely comfortable in her broken-in deputy uniform. Gabby’s boyfriend, Ryan, directed the children’s drama programs Dean’s siblings attended. They’d all hung out at cast parties a few times. Gabby was nice, and her relationship with Ryan was enviable. They were so happy his heart ached a bit watching them.
“’Sup, newb?” Gabby punched his shoulder . . . hard.
“Ow!” Okay, maybe not so nice.
“C’mon. Meet the team.” She led him into the busy bullpen.
“Chevy, have you met Dean Briggs, the new social media deputy?”
“Dean, welcome aboard.” Chevy stood to shake hands. “Good to have a techy. Snapchat’s the last app I bothered learning.”
“Thanks, glad I’m here.” By the time the boss started roll call, Dean’s head swam with names, specialties, and local connections. The thing about small town life was everyone knew each other. Forget seven degrees of Kevin Bacon, it was two degrees of your mom in this place.
“Who’s all coming?” Dean asked, looking around the brewery. Gabby had insisted they celebrate his first day.
“Everyone on our shift plus some dispatchers,” Gabby said. “Oh, and my friend Sarah’s here on leave. She’s looking for a place to land when she’s discharged.” They joined their colleagues at a long table in back.
Pint glasses clinked and laughter pitched above the general noise. Their drinks came, and Gabby got lost in her phone. Ryan—who arrived shortly after they did—glanced at her screen then grinned across the table at Dean.
“How was your first day?”
“Good! Gabby showed me around, took me on patrol.”
“Yeah, she patrols a lot until tourist season. Then most of her time is rappelling granite cliffs, jumping in rapids, and tracking kids lost in the forest. Don’t see her for days at a time.”
“Yeah, I saw the records . . . had no idea summers were so busy for Search and Rescu…”
“Eee!” Gabby’s childlike squeal interrupted as she rounded the table. “Saaaraaaahhh!”
Dean twisted to track her path. His stomach dropped through the chair then fluttered into his throat, taking his heart rate with it. Sarah was tall with glossy black hair that rippled as she threw her arms around Gabby. Her laugh burst through the air between them in cheery droplets of joy. Noise dropped away and all he heard was her rich voice.
“Gabby! I found you!”
Gabby responded but Dean didn’t hear it. His focus was on Sarah’s rich, tanned skin—so smooth she was a living Instagram filter, with eyes that sparkled a pale tawny color. She was coming closer.
Oh, God. Dean felt heat rush to his face. He coughed, spun back to the table, and dropped his gaze to his beer—now warm and flat. When he came back to himself, Gabby was dragging Sarah toward Ryan.
“Ryan! It’s so nice to finally see you IRL!”
Ryan stood. Sarah leaned to hug him, her hair swinging forward in a silken curtain. Dean ducked his head again, sneaking glances as Ryan welcomed her to their town.
“And this,” Gabby said before Dean realized she’d gestured to him, “is Dean, my newest coworker, a great big brother, and all-around good guy.”
Sarah leaned across the table, hand out. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled.
Dean’s eyes fell to manicured nails tipping elegant, slender fingers. He rose to shake, and when his hand closed around hers, their eyes met. She matched the pressure of his grasp . . . no weak, floppy grip. The feel of her skin against his sent sparks streaking up his arm, spurring his heart to beat faster. Introductions continued down the long table, and Dean’s gaze followed Sarah as she went.
“She’s here for three weeks.” Ryan startled Dean.
He pulled his eyes from Sarah—who was laughing with Chevy—and looked at Ryan with a raised eyebrow. “Okay?”
“Sarah.”
The second brow rose. “Uh-huh?”
Ryan chuckled. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Not fair. Your job is studying human emotion.”
“True,” Ryan said. “I should record your facial expressions to teach my teen workshops how to show intense emotion.”
“And which emotion would that be?”
“Shock, fear . . . desire.”
Dean’s mouth dropped, bottom lip pulled back.
“Hah! See? There’s horror!”
“So,” said a liquid smoke voice in his ear. “Ryan tells me he directs your brothers and baby sister?” Sarah slid into the open seat next to Dean.
“And surprise,” muttered Ryan.
“Ut-um,” Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, he’s great. They love it.”
“And you?”
“I was a theater kid when I was young, but by high school, soccer and baseball won out.”
“Nice! Volleyball and basketball for me, though if soccer had been a spring sport, I would’ve done that, too.”
“So, you served with Gabby? In the Air Force?”
“Still do . . . less than a year left.”
“Not gonna re-up?”
“Uh, no.”
“Hum, what’s next then?”
“I’m considering options. Gabby seems to have made it work here.” She glanced over to where Ryan and Gabby whispered to each other, faces close. She looked quickly into Dean’s eyes before dropping her gaze to the tabletop, her hand straightening a fork. “She seems happy, anyway.”
Dean studied Sarah’s face, still downcast, and watched a slow flush creep into her cheeks. “It’s a good place to be,” he said, warmth injecting meaning into the simple sentence. “The community’s tight, caring. Any friend of Gabby’s would step into a ready-made support system.”
Sarah exhaled in a long stream. “That . . . sounds nice.” Lifting to meet his look, she asked, “And what about you? Are you part of that . . . support?”
He placed his hand over hers, squeezing her fidgeting fingers. “I would love to be.”
Her face bloomed with pleasure. “I’d like that,” she said and leaned into his side.
Spark Flash Fiction 