Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Gently, I set her down just outside the doorway. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she darts across the grass, eager to reassure the kids in her class that George, the class pet hamster, is safe and sound in his little cage.
I watch her, my heart heavy with the need to make things right between us, even though time is not on my side. The knowledge that she is okay eases the ache in my chest just a bit, but I know this conversation isn't over. I'll have to wait until my job here is finished to sit down with her and untangle the hurt and misunderstanding between us because letting her go isn’t an option.
It doesn’t matter if we’re turning over every scrap of timber and making sure there’s no flare-up. Doesn’t matter if the last piece of equipment is back on the truck. It sure as hell doesn’t matter if the crew’s yelling at me to head home and get some sleep. Nope. The whole night is a repetition of one single thought, and the more I chase it, the faster it spins. Sage.
I wrap up the last of my work, sifting through the remaining debris like it’s some kind of purgatory. This is the first fucking time I’ve ever been more worried about my personal life than the scene.
When we’re back at the station, I shower and head straight for my phone, dripping and half-dressed and oblivious to the guys’ smirks. She’s a stubborn woman. I’m an even more stubborn man. Her phone rings and eventually goes to voicemail. Fuck.
When my phone buzzes with a text, I glance down at the screen.
Sage
You were a jerk
Maybe so, but I was so goddamn worried about her. She has no idea the living hell I went through thinking she was hurt.
Before I’m able to stop myself, I text back.
Me
I was.
A jerk who fucking loves you.
I half-expect silence, half-expect her to materialize and punch me, so when my phone rings, I’m caught completely off guard. The hesitation between rings is unbearable, but there it is. The light at the end of my dark, smoky tunnel.
“Hello?”
“You’re still a jerk.”
“But?”
I hear her take a breath. I hear her wait it out, letting me know she’s still got the upper hand.
"But," she whispers, her voice like a gentle caress, "I guess jerks are my thing because I love you, too."
Damn. My heart slams back into its rightful place, steadying itself for the first time since that gut-wrenching call from Riverbend Elementary shattered my peace.
"I’m the only jerk who’s going to be having anything with you.” I get that straight right away. “I'm glad to hear you love me, too," I say, my eyes darting around to ensure no unwanted ears are eavesdropping. Then, with a low, fervent promise, I add, "And I'm going to show you just how much when I get off shift."
A thunderous knock reverberates from my door, jolting me into action. I hurry over, flinging it open to reveal Ian, his eyes ablaze with a wild intensity and his hair tousled into a disarrayed mass. In one swift motion, he kicks the door shut and sweeps me off my feet with an unspoken urgency, his grip firm and relentless.
Without uttering a single word, he cradles me in his arms and strides purposefully toward the bedroom. I must appear utterly absurd, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, unable to keep pace with the whirlwind of frantic energy engulfing the room.
He smells like smoke and heat and Ian, and it's doing all kinds of things to my head. I've been alone here, marinating in shock after the chaos of the fire, thinking about everything and nothing. Wondering about him. Of course, he would show up like this, just grab me like a caveman with absolutely zero room for protest. God, I've missed him. How can I be this addicted already?
His strong grip tightens as he kicks the bedroom door open with his boot, and I have a feeling I'm about to find out exactly what happens when an obsessive fireman gets a little too much adrenaline and a whole lot of worry.
"Whoa," I finally manage, though I'm not even sure he can hear me over the sound of his own heavy breathing. "Hi."
He stops just long enough to let me stare into those crazy blue eyes, a deep flash of raw relief mixed with something dark and urgent and so very Ian. He squeezes me harder, just for a second like he's proving to himself I'm real. Like I’m about to disappear. And then we're moving again, my shoulder digging into his hard chest as he hauls me the last few steps and sets me down on the bed.
I land with a bounce, breathless and flustered and more than a little out of my mind. The room feels huge around us, a million miles from where we were this morning when he pulled me out of the smoke at school. He stands over me, big and broad and so damn sure of himself, his intense gaze locked on mine. It’s everything I can do to not fall over backward from the way he looks at me, that serious hero face that makes me forget every little shred of dignity and resistance.