3
" Tell me what happened.”
“He was here,” I said, hoarse. “He lit the can on fire and took the extinguisher nearby. I ran to the back to get the other and he pushed one of the shelves over on me.”
The muscles in Holt’s jaw clenched and flexed beneath the stubble that lined his face.
“Do you ever shave?” I wondered out loud.
He smiled and rubbed at the gruffness. “I just trim it.”
I nodded.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
Once again, I touched him, brazenly running my hand along his jaw. It was soft and rough at the same time—the perfect balance. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good to know,” he said, taking my hand, linking our fingers together, and then his face grew serious again.
“Obviously, I avoided the shelf.”
“Did you get a look at his face?” I cringed at the hopefulness in his voice.
“No,” I admitted. “I tried, but he kicked me.”
His eyes went murderous. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
“He. Kicked. You,” he ground out, making each word into a pointed sentence.
This time I kept my mouth shut.
“Where?” he demanded.
I wasn’t going to reply, but his eyes narrowed and I knew he would eventually make me tell him. I was going to have to tell the cops anyway. Weariness floated over me at the thought of enduring yet another one of their hours-long interrogations.
I lifted my wrist, the bandage just dangling from the area now, not covering or protecting a thing.
The waves of hatred that rolled off him made me sincerely glad that all that emotion wasn’t directed at me. He stared at my delicately injured skin (some of it had gotten torn in the struggle and was slick with some sort of puss… Eww, gross), and I kind of thought the top of his head might explode.
I was going to reassure him that I was okay, but the police rushed inside, followed closely behind by a medic with a first aid kit.
“She needs medical attention,” Holt barked, authority ringing through his tone. The medic hurried to comply, slamming down his kit and springing it open. Holt dropped his hand onto the man’s shoulder and squeezed. “Bryant, I don’t even want to see a flick of pain cross her face when you touch her.”
Bryant looked at me and swallowed thickly. “Yes, Chief.”
“Chief?” I said, looking up at Holt.
“I’ll be right back,” he said to me in a much gentler tone and then moved away.
Bryant was fumbling with his supplies, Holt’s words clearly making him nervous. “Relax.” I tried to soothe him. “He’s just on edge about what happened. I’m fine. I promise to smile the whole time you fix me up.”
“But it’s going to hurt,” he blurted apologetically.
“Yeah, I know. Just do it. I’ll be fine.”
That seemed to calm him a little, and he got to work. It did hurt. Incredibly. I felt Holt’s stare and I glanced up, giving him a fake smile. He rolled his eyes and turned back to one of the officers.
“Hey,” I said to the medic. “Why did you call him chief?”
He gave me a quizzical look. “Arkain’s the Wilmington Fire Chief.”
My eyes jerked back to Holt where he stood talking to the police force and the firefighters that responded to the call. His firefighters. “I didn’t realize,” I murmured.
Bryant nodded. “I guess I can understand that. He’s a humble guy. Doesn’t like to throw his position around.”
I made a sound of agreement as he applied something to my wrist that made my entire body jerk. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.
“I’m sorry!” he said a little too loudly. Holt stiffened and he turned, looking at me over his shoulder.
I blinked back the tears that flooded my eyes and waved at him with my free hand.
He said a few more words to the men standing around him and then he left them, coming to stand over poor Bryant.
I never realized how intimidating he was when he wanted to be. "
― Cambria Hebert , Torch (Take It Off, #1)
8
" I stopped struggling, going limp in his arms. He reached around us and shoved the door closed, spinning around and facing us toward the kitchen.
“I was trying to make you breakfast.”
It took a moment for his words and their meaning to sink in. I stared dumbfounded across the room and past the island. There was smoke billowing up from the stove and the window above the sink was wide open.
Bowls and spoons littered the island and there was a carton of eggs sitting out.
He was trying to cook.
He was really bad at it.
I started to laugh.
The kind of laugh that shook my shoulders and bubbled up hysterically. My heart rate was still out of control, and I took in a few breaths between laughs to try and calm it down.
He said something, but I couldn’t hear him because the fire alarm was still going off. I had no doubt half the neighborhood was now awake from the sound. He didn’t bother to put me down, instead hauling me along with him, where he finally set me down, dragged a chair over near the alarm, and climbed up to remove the battery.
The noise cut off and the kitchen fell silent.
“Well, shit,” he said, staring at the battery in his hand.
A giggle escaped me. “Does this always happen when you cook?”
He shrugged. “The only time I ever cook is when it’s my turn at the station.” His forehead creased and a thoughtful look came over his face. “The guys are never around when it’s my night to cook. Now I know why.” He snagged a towel off the counter and began waving away the rest of the lingering smoke.
I clicked on the vent fan above the stove. There was a pan with half a melted spatula, something that may or may not have once been eggs, and a muffin tin with half-burned, half-raw muffins (how was that even possible?).
“Well, this looks…” My words faltered, trying to come up with something positive to say.
“Completely inedible?” he finished.
I grinned. “You did all this for me?”
“I figured after a week of hospital food, you might like something good. Apparently you aren’t going to find that here.”
I had the urge to hug him. I kept my feet planted where they were. “Thank you. No one’s ever ruined a pan for me before.”
He grinned. “I have cereal. Even I can’t mess that up.”
I watched as he pulled down a bowl and poured me some, adding milk. He looked so cute when he handed me the bowl that I lifted the spoon and took a bite. “Best cereal I ever had.”
“Damn straight.”
I carried it over to the counter and sat down. “After we eat, would you mind taking me to my car? I hope it’s still drivable.”
“What about the keys?”
“I have a security deposit box at the bank. I keep my spare there in case I ever need them.”
“Pretty smart.”
“I have a few good ideas now and then.”
“Contrary to the way it looks, I do too.”
“Thank you for trying to make me breakfast. And for the cereal.”
He walked over to the stove and picked up the ruined pan. “You died with honor,” he said, giving it a mock salute. And then he threw the entire thing into the trashcan.
I laughed. “You could have washed it, you know.”
He made a face. “No. Then I might be tempted to use it again. "
― Cambria Hebert , Torch (Take It Off, #1)
10
" Katie!” he yelled, gripping my shoulder and leaning in to look into my eyes. “Stay with me.”
The distant sound of sirens filled the air, and I knew within minutes the place would be swarming with police officers and firefighters. It was minutes I wouldn’t have had. If Holt hadn’t gotten here when he did, I would likely be dead right now.
That had me looking up.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I came by to check on you. I was worried.”
“How did you know where I was?” I said, suspicion leaking into my tone.
He crouched down in front of me, my feet between his legs. “I saw your car in the lot,” he explained. “I knew you worked at the library nearby, so I thought you might pick somewhere close to stay.”
My shoulders sagged.
He put a hand under my chin and lifted my face. “Look at me,” he demanded. I looked up. “Do you think this was me?”
“No,” I said, ashamed of the catch in my voice. I really didn’t think he did this, but I was scared and I was so very tired.
“Can I touch you?” he asked, his voice calm.
I looked up, surprised that he didn’t sound angry. I nodded.
He yanked me forward, folding his arms around me and standing up, bringing me with him. My feet touched the ground, but they didn’t support me. His arms, his body kept me up. He wrapped himself around me like I was a hand and he was a glove. I clung to the front of his shirt, praying he wouldn’t let me go. When his grip tightened, I sighed in relief. His clean scent encompassed me, pushing away some of the smoke, and tears prickled my eyes.
When the emergency trucks swerved into the lot, my muscles tensed at the thought he would release me, that he would push me away and deal with the fire.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t let go. Not once.
Even when some of the men he must work with came running up—addressing him by his last name and exclaiming over what happened.
He spoke calmly over my head, telling them everything he knew and telling them I wasn’t ready to talk. He didn’t seem embarrassed to be holding me so close in the center of a parking lot. He didn’t act like being seen in a vulnerable position like this wounded his pride at all. "
― Cambria Hebert , Torch (Take It Off, #1)
11
" I don’t know what to say.” My voice was raspy.
“You don’t have to say anything. The medics already cleaned and took care of these.”
“No,” I said, still holding on to his hand. “I don’t know how to thank you for saving my life. Again.”
“Stop thanking me,” he ground out.
“I have to,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. “If you hadn’t been there…” My sentence trailed away. We both knew what would’ve happened.
“But I was,” he said softly.
“About that…” I began, wetting my lips. “Why were you there?”
“I needed to talk to you about something.”
“What?”
He withdrew his hand, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “About this.”
It was a plain white piece of paper, the kind that anyone would use in a printer. I unfolded it, noticing there was some kind of writing on the inside. When I got to the last fold, I glanced up at Holt who was wearing a very grim expression. Clearly, whatever this was wasn’t good.
I pulled it open and stared down, my brain not really comprehending what it saw. I had to read the line over three times before I really got what it was saying.
My stomach clenched.
My hands trembled slightly.
You should have let her die.
“Where did you get this?” I finally asked.
“It was on my truck when I left work earlier tonight.”
The paper fluttered to the floor slowly, joining the towel by my feet. “So you got this before the fire tonight?”
“Yes. It’s the reason I came looking for you.”
“You didn’t say that.”
“I figured you were dealing with enough at the moment.”
“Did you tell the police?”
He shook his head slowly.
“But why?”
“I wanted to talk to you first. See if you knew what it meant.”
“It means someone wants me dead!” I shouted. My voice seemed to echo through the hallway.
“You’re not going to die,” he growled.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” I said, looking frantically around. “I need to go.” I spun around to rush into the living room, but the towel was tangled around my feet and I tripped, falling toward the floor.
Holt caught me around the waist, pulling me back so I was up against the solid wall of his body. The heat of him was delicious and it radiated around my fear-chilled body. “You’re not going anywhere,” he rumbled in my ear.
I struggled against him, but it was stupid. He outweighed me by a hundred pounds, easily, and was likely a foot taller than me. If he didn’t want to let me go, then I was pretty much stuck in his embrace. I slumped against him. “I’m putting you in danger by being here.”
“You’re in more danger when I’m not around.”
I couldn’t stop my snort. “There goes that ego of yours again.”
His chuckle vibrated my ear. Chill bumps raced over my scalp. “All I’m saying is that clearly this guy is a pyro. My job is fire. You’re better off here than alone.”
“But what about you?”
“You let me worry about me.”
I tried to wiggle out of his embrace so I could look at him. He only loosened his hold enough to allow me to spin in his arms. I had to tip my head back so I could stare up at him. “Do you have a death wish?”
“I’m not going to die. Especially since life just got a hell of a lot more interesting.” His fingers flexed against my hip. "
― Cambria Hebert , Torch (Take It Off, #1)
12
" A glance at the clock on the nightstand told me I still had several hours until morning, and I knew I was in for a long night. I wasn’t quite ready to get back in bed, and my throat felt dry, so I left the bedroom and padded into the kitchen for a bottle of cool water.
On my way back through the living room, I glanced at the couch and froze. Holt was lying there with a blanket tossed over his legs.
“You’re sleeping on the couch?” I said, surprise lacing my tone.
“I figured it was too soon to climb into bed with you,” he drawled.
A warm flush spread over my limbs. The idea of sharing a bed with him… of being tangled up in his arms and legs… was entirely too appealing. “I’m an idiot.”
He chuckled. “And why is that?”
Because I should have realized that he only had one bed in this house and I was hogging it. He did say my scent was on his sheets. Geez, how slow on the uptake was I? “I should be the one sleeping out here.”
“No.” It sounded like a command.
“Yes.”
He moved so fast I barely saw him, and then he was towering over me, my eyes left to stare at the very wide expanse of his chiseled chest. “What kind of a man do you think I am?” he drawled.
“What?” I said, not really listening to his words. His body was the ultimate distraction.
“Do you really think I would let someone—a girl—who was just released from the hospital, still bruised and burned, sleep on my couch?”
“I’m sure I would be more comfortable there than you would be.”
“Go back to bed, Katie.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“And if I don’t?” I challenged. I didn’t really care for the overbearing type.
“If you don’t, I’m going to rip my shirt off you right here and do things to your body that will echo through your limbs long after I stop touching you. "
― Cambria Hebert , Torch (Take It Off, #1)
15
" What’s the matter, Freckles?” he said, pressing a light kiss to the tip of my nose.
“What changed?” I blurted out.
He drew back. “Changed?”
“You seemed like you were trying to keep distance between us before, but after last night…”
“I should get a medal for managing to keep my hands off you that long.”
“It was only a few days,” I reminded him dryly.
“Felt like a lifetime.”
“So those first kisses… you liked them?”
His eyes widened. “You thought that I didn’t?”
“Well, after that you didn’t touch me.”
“Shit,” he swore beneath his breath and ran a hand over his head. “I liked it too much. The sparks between us are so hot, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop. I was afraid I would scare you off. Thank God I did because you’re so innocent.”
Innocent? Ugh.
I folded my arms across my chest. “So what changed your mind?”
His smile was sexy and filled with innuendo. “I realized you could handle the heat.”
I still wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t tell him that. “Well, you are definitely hot.”
He grinned. He had such a big ego. “How hot?”
I shook my head. “So hot your touch leaves torch marks on my skin.”
He whistled between his teeth. “Damn. I’m good. "
― Cambria Hebert , Torch (Take It Off, #1)
16
" The waitress delivered me a plate of towering blueberry pancakes dripping in butter. The sweet scent of the fluffy goodness had my stomach rumbling in appreciation. I pushed back my tall glass of orange juice to make way for the food that was about to be introduced to my belly. I swirled my finger around in a giant pad of softening butter and brought it to my lips as the waitress handed Holt his own stack of pancakes plus a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. When she was gone, I reached for the syrup.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Holt said, leaning over the table and stabbing his fork in my direction.
I glanced dubiously at the fork. “Are you trying to kill me?”
He grinned. “You can’t just go around licking your fingers like that, Freckles. It makes a man forget he’s in a public place.”
I laughed and dug into my pancakes, shoving an unladylike bite into my mouth and then groaning as the sweetness slid over my tongue.
“There you go again,” he said, his eyes darkening with desire.
“Wasn’t last night and this morning enough for you?” I asked playfully.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you. "
― Cambria Hebert , Torch (Take It Off, #1)
17
" Pam went to the refrigerator and started piling some cold cuts and cheese on the table. “Katie, honey, hand me that bread over there,” she said, pointing to the counter behind me.
I handed it to her and she smiled.
“Holt, I’m making your father a sandwich. Do you want one?”
“I’m starved,” he said.
“You just ate!” I exclaimed.
“You ate all my bacon,” he accused.
“I did not!” I laughed, reaching in for a slice of bread and throwing it at him.
He snagged it out of the air and took a huge bite.
Holt’s dad grinned. “I like this one, son. Better not let her go.”
“I don’t plan on it,” he said, giving me a meaningful stare.
I felt my cheeks heat and I made myself busy putting together a sandwich for him.
“Katie, make one for you too,” Pam said, handing me the mayo.
“Oh, no. That bacon really filled me up.” I grinned slyly. "
― Cambria Hebert , Torch (Take It Off, #1)
