“How are things looking over there?” she asks him.
“Structure’s sound,” he says. “Buck will give you a report later.”
Mae offers him coffee, but he waves it off.
“I’m going to put T.J.’s boots on the porch so they can air out,” I tell Mae, so she’ll know where they are if T.J. needs them.
Then Calder and I leave. He stays close as we go down the porch steps, as if he’s ready to catch me if I slip, and I’m randomly reminded of long-ago memories of being picked up by dates at my parents’ house, though this man is much more intimidating than anyone I went out with back when I was in high school.
Calder opens his truck’s passenger door for me and waits for me to get in so he can close it behind me. His truck is surprisingly spotless, except for some pine needles and bits of melting snow on the floorboards. It’s warm and smells like a man in a woodsy, leathery way.
Once he’s behind the wheel, I realize this is the closest I’ve been to him, outside of briefly passing him on the sidewalk in town or sitting a couple of tables away from him at the restaurant. I don’t mean to, but I find myself sneaking glances and confirming he’s just as good-looking in close quarters as he is out in the wild.
His eyes are a striking gray color with flecks of warmth in them. Today, his hair, which I know is thick and nearly black, is mostly hidden under a wool cap. Dark, close-trimmed hair shades his face, accentuating his strong bone structure. High cheekbones and a slightly prominent nose add to his chiseled look. His lips are full and seem permanentlyfixed in a brooding scowl.
I force my gaze away from him, wondering how my mind has space to admire an attractive man with all that’s going on right now. Maybe it’s looking for a pleasant distraction from all the stress.
“You all right?” he asks when he’s on the road.
“I have to be.”
He gives me a long look, those gray eyes seeming full of sorrow or maybe pity, but he doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the short drive.
CHAPTER 8
ELENA
When we pull up, Weston is standing on the front porch like a sentinel, but his posture eases as we walk toward the house. “Before you go in, Buck wants you to gear up,” he tells me after a nod of greeting. “Boot covers, mask, gloves.”
He hands me the boot covers first, and I lean on the doorframe as I lift a foot to pull the elastic-trimmed cover over it. I think I have my balance, but apparently, I don’t. Immediately, multiple hands are on me, keeping me from falling. Weston has a hold of my elbow, while Calder grips my other arm and has a hand on my back.
Heat seeps across my skin as I realize how close they both are. I’m right between the two of them, and they don’t seem in any hurry to move away. Or to let go of me.
“You okay?” Weston asks, even though I’m clearly fine, aside from a face that’s probably turningpink.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Here. I’ll get that.” He takes the boot covers from me, kneels, and puts them over my feet, while Calder continues to hold me steady. Inside, I’m anything but.
I can’t be attracted to these particular firemen anymore, but my body doesn’t seem to realize it.
“Must be a slick spot out here,” Weston says when he straightens. “I’ll take care of it.”
Reassured that both of my legs are stable, Calder finally lets go of my arm, and I rush to put the mask on, eager to cover whatever expression might be on my face.
Calder escorts me into the house, where I’m immediately hit with a wave of nausea as thoughts of what could have happened run through my mind. What if the fire had started on the opposite side of the house, near the bedrooms? What if I hadn’t been able to get to T.J.?
I shudder as I try hard not to think about it.
The living room is fully intact, which is a relief, but everything is filthy.
After Calder delivers me to Buck in the den, he disappears toward the back of the house. There’s another firefighter with Buck, but when I step into the room, Buck tells him he can take a break, then tells me to be sure not to touch anything.
“You get some sleep?” Buck asks.
“Yes. And food, in case you’re going to ask about that next.”
He chuckles, even though his eyes are grim. I want to keep focusing on his eyes, because my alternative is looking around the room, and it is far beyond grim.
