Page 21 of Protected By Her Mate

Water pours from the ceiling, but the searing heat coming from the doorway tells me the fire isn’t out.

Coughing, I say to Lennox. “You need to get everyone out.”

“What about you?” he demands. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

I swipe the tears from my stinging eyes. “We don’t have time for this,” I snap, gripping his arm. “I’ll be fine. This is what I do.”

He stares at me for several seconds, then nods sharply. “I’ll do what I can for them, but I’m not leaving you. Call if you need me.”

I grab the first person I see. “Where’s your fire hose?”

They point and I rush toward the metal box. Grabbing the hammer, I cover my eyes and smash the glass open, making sure to hammer out the jagged bits so I don’t get cut.

I pull out the mask first, dragging it over my face. There won’t be any oxygen flow, but it’ll protect my eyes.

Grabbing hold of the hose, I brace myself against the wall and yank, dragging it from the box and letting it fall to the floor. I turn on the water flow and pick up the hose, pulling the heavy metal nozzle over my shoulder and using all my weight to drag it.

I have to work fast, put out the fire before I succumb to the smoke. I drag the hose to the mailroom, coughing as the smoke gets thicker. I brace myself in the doorway and unleash the water.

My body is rocked by the force and I stumble back, but strong hands catch me, holding me upright. I don’t have to look to know it’s Lennox supporting me.

It takes a minute, but the powerful stream of water soon extinguishes all trace of flames and the room becomes clearer as the smoke dissipates. Still, there’s enough smoke that I’m struggling to breathe. I feel Lennox’s chest heaving at my back as he coughs.

“Need… air!” I shout at him through the mask and he nods.

I drop the hose and he escorts me out of the mail room, up the stairs and into the bright sunshine. We were only in the basement for a matter of minutes and in the building for maybe ten total, but stepping outside after battling a fire always feels to me like stepping into an alternate universe.

I hear the wail of a fire truck fast approaching.

I yank the mask off my face and let it fall to the pavement, doubling over to cough out the smoke. Lennox pounds my back so hard he nearly flattens me to the pavement and has to grab hold of me to stop my fall. I look at him, about to demand an explanation, but the look on his face stops me.

It’s fear. For me.

I straighten, my voice hoarse as I say, “Lennox, I’m fine. This is not….” I have to stop for a fit of coughing to subside “… not my first rodeo.” Okay, yes, it’s hard to sound like you’re fit as a fiddle when you’ve just swallowed a bunch of ash and smoke.

The fear turns to anger as he snaps, “The human body is too fragile. You must stop fighting fires immediately. It’s absurd that anyone would allow someone like you to fight fires.”

“Like me?” I force the coughing back and straighten to glare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He waves his hand up and down my body. “Delicate, fragile, small.”

“Whoa,” I say, holding my hand up. “First, you don’t ever get to tell me what I will or won’t do.” I step closer, raising an eyebrow and when he gives me a brief nod, I poke him in the chest. “Even if this thing between us goes somewhere, you still won’t get to tell me what to do. Even if we were to get married, pop out a bunch of babies, and live happily together for the next sixty years, youstilldon’t get to dictate to me. Are we clear?”

His face softens and his lip quivers in a way that tells me I’ve amused him. “Crystal. Is there a second?”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“You said, first, I don’t get to tell you what to do. What comes second?”

I did say that, didn’t I? Well, in for a penny. I close the distance between us, dancing my fingers up his chest to grip his collar, which is standing up. Smoothing it with my hands and leaving a smear of soot on the crisp white fabric, I say in a husky tone, “Second. If we are to explore this thing between us, we’ll need to go on a proper date. Find out if we even like each other that way.”

He holds his breath, probably involuntarily, until I step away from him, then he lets it out in a whoosh. His gaze blazes as he stares back at me, then says, “I like you that way, Charlie. A lot.”

I try to think of a snappy response, but Greg, the reception-desk-guard-bear, approaches us, interrupting our moment. “Boss will see you now.”

Chapter 9

Smokey

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