Page 65 of Firecracker

She took a big mouthful of her tea.

“Do you often have trouble sleeping?”

“Um, what?” She blinked at him, nudged out of her contemplation of his hot body.

“You said you like this tea when you have trouble sleeping. Just wondered if it happens a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah, I do.” She grimaced, cupping her tea. She’d been having nightmares and insomnia since the night the police arrived at her Phoenix home. But she didn’t need to share all her shame with him. That was in the past, and she was starting over. “Doyouhave trouble sleeping?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “Never. I fall asleep in seconds, and I’m usually out unless the alarm at work wakes me up.”

“Or a thunderstorm.”

“Yeah. At work I never know how much sleep I’m going to get, so I’ve trained myself to shut things down and crash fast.”

“I guess that’s a good skill to have in your job.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like your job?”

“I love it.”

“I never pictured you as a firefighter.”

“No?” His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Should I even ask what you pictured me doing?”

“I don’t know. Something like Jamie, I guess.”

“I’d go crazy sitting in an office all day.” He dropped his gaze. “But that was what my parents wanted me to do.”

She tilted her head. “They wanted you to work in an office?”

“They wanted me to go to college. ‘Make something of myself.’” He held up two fingers and moved them in air quotes. “My dad and his family came here from Puerto Rico when he was a baby. He worked in construction, like his dad did. My grandma cleaned houses. They wanted me to do something more white-collar—like an accountant or something. Make lots of money.”

She sighed. “Money’s not everything.” As she well knew.

“True. After the summer my dad died, I applied to the fire department and never went back to college. My mom was so pissed at me for that. But it’s not that she’s money hungry. She just wants the best for…for me.”

“Well, I guess that’s not that unusual. I think most parents want their children to be successful. But it’s not fair if she pressures you to do something you don’t want to.”

“Being an educated white-collar professional was her idea of success, and a firefighter isn’t that.”

“Youarea professional.” She set her jaw. “Firefighting is an admirable profession.” Her body tensed, thinking that his mother wasn’t proud of the man he’d become, the profession he’d chosen.

He met her eyes, and his warmed. “Thank you.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “I also wanted to do something that helped people.”

A fist squeezed her throat. “That’s great, Tyler.”

“Jamie helps people too.”

She blinked. “Yes, I guess he does.”

“Just in a different way.”

Jamie’s web analytics company helped small businesses—lots of small businesses, judging by his success—by giving them detailed information about how their online sales were doing. He also helped millions of other users with trend information from his business’s global statistics services. It was a bit of a stretch to compare that to running into a burning building to rescue someone. But Tyler’s modesty and generosity of spirit melted her inside.

“You okay now?” He met her eyes.

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