“It’s okay,” he murmurs and comes around to my side of the gurney. “Come make dinner with me.”
“O-okay,” I whisper, and follow along as he tugs at my sleeve and leads me into the kitchen.
He doesn’t let go until we’re in front of the fridge, and my stomach drops when he reaches for the handle.
There’s nothing in there—
“Spaghetti okay?” He pulls out a bag that’s familiar, but not one I put in there and my brows pinch tight. “It’s hard to fuck up.”
“Y-you … know how to cook?”
The way he moves about, pulling out pans and unloading the bag onto the small counter has my stomach doing some kind of whooshing thing that doesn’t make sense.
“Yeah. I work in a firehouse.” He chuckles like that’s supposed to mean anything other than running into fires and saving kittens from trees.
“But what do kittens have to do with cooking?”
Back muscles flexing, tattoos peeking out from his tank top, Tristen busts into laughter loud enough that I jump.
“Good one, bubs.”
“I … don’t know what that means.” I pull in a breath and go to the sink, pushing back my sleeves just enough to wash my hands.
“Don’t you dare touch that,” he says in that commanding tone that makes my stomach do all kinds of funny shit when I reach for the onion.
What is he gonna do with an onion?
“O-okay.”
I step around him and pick up the wooden spoon to poke at the sizzling pan.
“That either.”
My face goes hot.
“What am I supposed to do then?”
His chuckle is deep and I feel it vibrate down my spine. “Stand there—” he points next to him, “—and look pretty, baby.”
The thing in my chest thumps wildly, my skin tingling.
“O-okay.”
“Firefighters don’t just save cats from trees and shit,” he continues, chopping as he speaks, as if we never strayed from my statement of uncertainty. “It’s the running joke, though, that’s all the job is.”
“But you’re not … you’re not a firefighter?”
He dumps the onion into the pan of browning meat, his gaze flicking to mine from behind those thick glasses. “I am.”
“Your uniform, though.”
“I’m an EMT, too. And Hat’s a paramedic.”
I nod, though I don’t know what the difference is, my chest going tight.
“So, you run into fires, even when everyone else is running out.”
He pushes up his glasses, his smile is somber. “Yeah, I do.”
