Page 115 of Firecracker

“The list is on the counter.” She gestured vaguely, not lifting her head. “I’m so nervous!”

“I know. It’s okay. Nervous is good. We get nervous every time we go into a fire. You have to use that energy the right way.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Sure you do. Let’s go through your plan.”

“I probably forgot ten things.” She drew back and faced him.

“Probably not. But let’s see.”

* * *

The next morning, Arden’s alarm went off for a painfully early wake-up call. Bleary-eyed and foggy-headed, she didn’t bother getting dressed, stumbling out to her kitchen to start coffee. That was the first thing.

As it brewed, she tied her unbrushed hair back in a ponytail, then got to work on the food. She’d done as much as she could the night before, but some things had to wait until morning.

Her kitchen was bursting with food, her fridge barely big enough to hold everything, her counters covered with platters of wrapped baked goods.

She gulped coffee as she worked, packing things into big insulated bags. Luckily, Jamie had given her a deposit, which had enabled her to purchase some supplies and the food without depleting her meager savings. She’d protested the deposit, but he’d convinced her by telling her most businesses wouldn’t do anything without some kind of deposit. What if she went out and bought a bunch of things and then he cancelled on her? She needed something to protect herself.

Not that she was running a business, but that was true.

She leaned against the counter with her coffee mug in hand, surveying things. Okay. Time to get herself ready. She needed to look professional when she took this all into Jamie’s office.

Her apartment door opened and Tyler appeared.

Her jaw dropped at seeing him.

He was dressed in his work uniform—navy pants and a crisp, short-sleeved navy shirt.

Why had she never seen him in uniform before?

Sweet baby Jesus, he was gorgeous at the best of times, but now looking all authoritative and confident, he was panty meltingly hot.

“Hey. How’s it going? Need any more help?”

Holding her mug in two hands, she stared at him as he walked toward her.

“Are you okay, babe?” He brushed a strand of hair off her face.

She tried to gather her thoughts and ignore the clenching of her inner muscles. “Fine,” she croaked.

His gaze dropped and lingered on her breasts. She was still wearing the ribbed tank top and cheeky panties she’d slept in, and her nipples were doing their best to push through the cotton. His eyes darkened. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You better not be going out like that.”

She snorted softly, liking that she had an effect on him, because he had just destroyed some of her brain cells. “Nope. I was about to go get ready.”

“Did you do this?” He held up the banana she hadn’t noticed he was carrying, a smirk on his lips.

She grinned. “Yeah.” The other day, she’d taken a black Sharpie and printed on the banana:You put this banana to shame.

He shook his head, still smirking. “You’re nuts.”

“Maybe so.”

“Want me to carry some of this stuff down?”

“That’s okay. I don’t want to make you late for work.”

---