Page 7 of Feastin' with Fire
I set down the brass coupling. "Nothing important."
Tommy raises an eyebrow. "Bullshit. You've been wound tight since we got back from that flower shop fire yesterday."
"Just didn't sit right with me," I mutter, reaching for another fitting. "She lost everything."
"The florist?" Tommy nods, understanding. "Yeah, that was rough. But we've seen worse, and you don't usually take it this hard."
I don't answer, focusing on the brass in my hands. Tommy's right. I've witnessed countless tragedies over the years. What is it about this particular one that's gotten under my skin?
"Heard from Jake that you went to the hospital to check on her," Tommy continues, eyes still on me. "After shift."
"So?" I look up, feeling strangely defensive.
Tommy holds up his hands. "Hey, no judgment. Just never seen you follow up with a victim before."
"She's not a victim," I say, the words coming out sharper than intended. "She's a person who lost everything and has nowhere to go."
Understanding dawns in Tommy's eyes. "Ah. Hits close to home, huh?"
I grunt. Tommy's one of the few who knows about my past. About my father walking out, my mother dying young, my years in the system. He knows I understand what it means to have no safety net.
"I offered her my spare room," I admit finally. "Until she gets back on her feet."
Tommy's eyebrows shoot up. "You did what now?"
"It's temporary," I say, returning to the fittings. "Few days, maybe a week. We’re calling it a Thanksgiving miracle."
"Uh-huh, a miracle…" Tommy's trying not to smile. "And this has nothing to do with the fact that she's hot as hell?"
"Jesus, Tommy. Her life just went up in flames. I'm not—" I stop, realizing I've risen to the bait. "It's not like that."
"If you say so." He stands up, clapping me on the shoulder. "For what it's worth, I think it's a decent thing you're doing. Just be careful. Rescue mode works great for firefighting, but it gets complicated with real life."
Before I can respond, Danny bursts into the room, his young face flushed with excitement.
"Uh, Jimmy? There's someone here to see you. A woman."
Tommy gives me a pointed look. "That was fast."
I ignore him, setting down my work and wiping my hands on a rag. "Did she give a name?"
"Lily Anderson? The florist from yesterday's fire?" Danny shifts from foot to foot. "She's waiting in the front bay."
I nod, trying to ignore Tommy's amused expression and the sudden interest from the other guys who've wandered in from their morning tasks.
"Take your time," Tommy calls after me. "We'll hold down the fort."
I flip him off without looking back, which earns me a chorus of chuckles.
The walk to the front bay feels longer than usual. I told Lily I'd pick her up from the hospital. What's she doing here? And how did she even get to the station? The questions tumble through my mind as I push through the doors to the apparatus bay.
I stop short.
Holy shit.
Lily Anderson is standing beside Engine 1, near the massive red truck, my duffel bag next to her. She's wearing a yellow dress that clings to every curve of her body. Curves I definitely didn't notice when I was carrying her smoke-covered form out of a burning building. The sunlight streaming through the high windows catches her dark hair, which falls loose around her shoulders instead of in that practical ponytail.
My body reacts instantly, a rush of heat flooding south. I shift uncomfortably as my cock stiffens, pressing painfully against my uniform pants. Fuck. I haven't had this kind of instant reaction to a woman since I was a goddamn teenager.
