Black Flame Read Online Free

heart sank to see that there wasn’t an inch of storage space to spare. The top shelf contained Jayne’s familiar no-nonsense soap and lip balm and deodorant, her hair elastics and brush, her few cosmetics. Deneen’s own grooming products took up far more shelf space. She’d just have to improvise, storing her things in whatever guest quarters they put her in and shuttling them in and out of the bathroom.
    She washed up and returned to the kitchen, where Jimmy was pouring a suspiciously lumpy batter into a cake pan.
    “What are you making?”
    “Cake.”
    Deneen wondered if the recipe really called for the batter to come to the top edge of a single pan. “Um, that batter might rise,” she said diplomatically.
    “Yes, bicarbonate of soda contains carbon dioxide, which is released as a gas when heated, causing the batter to appear to expand. I will be serving this cake for Christmas dinner tomorrow night. You are, of course, welcome to join us.”
    He put the cake pan into the oven and fiddled with the dials. Deneen refrained from pointing out that usually one preheated the oven before putting the pan in, as Jimmy didn’t seem especially receptive to cooking advice. Besides, his method would probably work, even if it didn’t produce a perfect cake.
    Deneen put far too much emphasis on the way food looked—at least, that was what her last boyfriend had told her. “It’s all going to the same place,” he’d say, when she brought out her carefully garnished plates. Her family felt the same way; Marjorie never even used the serving pieces and colorful dishes Deneen had given her for Mother’s Day over the years, preferring her plain old CorningWare.
    “I would love to join you for Christmas dinner,” Deneen said formally. Now came the hard part. “I was, er, wondering if I could…maybe stay with you guys. For a few days.”
    Jimmy closed the oven door and turned to face her. “You mean, here? In the bunkhouse?”
    Deneen could feel her face beginning to get warm. “Yes? I mean, if…I can sleep on the sofa,” she said. “Or, maybe, um…”
    “How many days?”
    He was looking at her intently. He had a nice firm jaw, a very nicely formed nose. His eyes, well, those were just totally off the hook, with their navy blue depths and those thick, long eyelashes, and so it was just as well that he wore funky black-framed engineer glasses, to dim their wattage somewhat. Because otherwise, a girl might be forgiven for losing her place, just a little. Or forgetting that he was long on irritating remarks and short on intuition.
    Couldn’t he see that she was struggling here? Hadn’t he paid attention when Jayne complained about her ditzy younger sister? Jayne, who loved her dearly, nonetheless rarely passed up an opportunity to point out her shortcomings under the guise of elder-sister guidance. Or had he found the subject so incredibly uninteresting that he couldn't be bothered to remember that she was broke, under-employed (well, as of last week, un employed), and homeless as well, unless you counted the bedroom she’d lived in since she was born?
    “A few,” she hedged.
    “A few like two or three, or a few like more than that? The reason I’m asking is that the household population is currently in flux, with some members being currently absent. Perhaps accommodations could be made on a temporary basis. I’m sure that Chase wouldn’t mind if you used his room, as he is visiting his girlfriend’s family in Tennessee for the holidays. And Regina has left some…girl stuff in there, that you might find, um, convenient.”
    Deneen was fascinated despite her mortification. “Girl stuff?”
    “Yes. Er. Like hangers covered in a slippery synthetic material which she says is better for her clothes—”
    “Padded hangers?”
    “—and various salves and unguents of a personal nature—”
    “Lotion? Moisturizer?”
    “—and a number of dresser drawers in which to keep—that is to say—her, uh,