Page 71 of Through the Fire
“I’m not… Sorry, I mean,” he blurted out.
“You’re sure?” Kit was eyeing him closely, and he felt that warm feeling in his chest again at the way she seemed to really care what he thought and felt. “I know you have to really cherish your privacy to spend the winters out here. I hate to intrude on you like this.” Justice settled on the rug by the woodstove with a loud groan, making Kit laugh. “Obviously, my dog doesn’t care that he’s intruding.”
Wes smiled—he loved the sound of her laughter. “Neither of you is intruding.” He wanted to change the subject, since he was worried that the more she apologized, the greater the risk was of him admitting how extremely glad he was that she was here. “Did you figure out the toaster?”
His topic change worked. “I think so.” She glanced at it, tilting her head as she examined the appliance. “It’s not like any toaster I’ve ever seen before.”
“I modified it.” He joined her in the small kitchen area and checked to see that she’d gotten it working. “Heat-producing appliances typically use the most energy, so I…” He glanced at her, not sure if she would want to hear the technical details. If Leila were here, she’d definitely be telling him she didn’t care. He decided to play it safe and not delve into the process. “I made it more energy-efficient.”
“Huh.” She examined the toaster and then returned her gaze to him. “You’re really smart, aren’t you?”
“In some areas, yes.” At the moment, he would’ve traded a good portion of his technical knowledge for a few more social skills. “Other things are harder for me.”
Kit made a hmm sound. “I think we’re all that way. I like police work and training dogs and mentoring kids, but if I try to do anything more technical on a computer than writing a case report, it tends to go badly.”
“Go badly?” he repeated, carefully extracting one of the pastries from the toaster and juggling it from hand to hand until it was cool enough to pass to Kit. It wasn’t until she accepted it with a wry look that he realized she might not want to eat something he’d just handled extensively. “Sorry. Did you want that one instead? I won’t touch it.”
Waving off the offer, she took a bite. “At my last job, the joke around the station was that I had hands of death when it came to computers. I’ll be innocently trying to set up a spreadsheet or answer an email, and bam”—she held the Pop Tart in her mouth so she could clap her hands together once before rescuing the pastry—“blue screen of death. I seriously should come with a warning label.”
After glancing around at the array of computers and electronics, Wes picked up the second Pop Tart. “Good to know.”
She laughed. “I’m also horrible at art or decorating or anything creative.”
He loved hearing about things she was bad at. If she’d been as perfect as she’d first appeared, there’d be no way she’d ever be interested in him. If she had foibles and flaws, though, then there was a chance she could see past all his idiosyncrasies to what was inside. Except for his parents and his sister, no one had ever bothered to look that deeply, but the way Kit listened to him so closely and watched him for his reactions made him hope that she would try.
“Sooo…” she said, drawing his attention away from his thoughts.
He waited, not sure what that drawn-out word meant.
“Since I’ve revealed a few of mine, what are your weaknesses?” she asked.
Surprised, he stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “You can’t tell?”
When she rolled her eyes at him in response, he smiled. The gesture seemed like she was teasing, rather than mocking him. “Of course I can’t. You are a mad-scientist-level genius—minus the ‘mad’ part—and sweet and modest and brave enough to get between me and five loaded shotguns. I’m not seeing any negatives, and it’s making me a little self-conscious here.”
That made him blink as his brain tried to wrap itself around her words. She’d dumped out so much in front of him that it made his head spin with delighted disbelief. “I make you self-conscious?”
She picked crumbs off her hoodie, peeking up at him through her lashes in a way that he found almost unbearably appealing. “A little, yeah. You’re just so smart. It’s a little intimidating.”
“I’m intimidating?” He huffed a laugh, having a hard time believing the picture she was painting.
“Not obnoxiously so.” She hurried to amend her words. “You’re too nice to rub your brains in my face.” After a short pause, they both laughed. “Sorry, that was kind of a graphic way of putting it, wasn’t it? I just meant that you’re not pretentious or snobby, even though you’re smart enough that you could get away with that. It makes you really easy to like.”
His insides were so warm that he felt like he was positively glowing. Not only had she just admitted that she found him smart, and nice, and brave, but she’d also said flat-out that she liked him. Even if she left the tower and never returned, the memory of her words would be enough to keep him company for years on the long, lonely winter nights. It was such a huge deal to him, what she’d just said, that he couldn’t think of any worthy response. Instead, he took the chicken’s way out and changed the subject…again.
“Are you thirsty?”
She took the switch in topics with easy grace, and it made him like her even more. “Oh God, yes. Ever since I moved here, I feel like I can’t drink enough water.”
“Are you having any trouble adjusting to the altitude?” Grabbing a spill-proof travel mug, he filled it with water from the tap. After screwing on the lid, he handed it to her.
“Not really. I’ve found I can’t run as fast as I could at sea level, but that just motivates me to work out more.” She examined the mug with a wry expression. “Leave it to you to have a glass that astronauts probably use in space.” Pushing the button on the side to open the lid, she took a long drink.
He ignored her space-cup comment, figuring that she didn’t want to hear facts about space travel. It was getting easier to know when to share and when to be quiet, he realized, and he gave Leila a silent thank-you for always being so blunt with him. “Once your body adjusts to it, you’ll be able to visit your former home state and run even faster there without getting breathless.”
“That’s something to look forward to.” The radio chirped, and the dispatcher assigned a traffic-accident call east of town to a county deputy. When their voices went silent, Kit asked, “Mind if I use your radio to let the dispatcher know I’m not reachable by cell phone?”
He gave her a go-ahead gesture, and she moved over to the radio, careful not to step on a snoring Justice’s tail. She quickly gave the dispatcher the information. Before she could even take a step away, an amused voice came through the radio.
