Page 56 of Burning For You

“I don’t really deal with anyone. I get jobs in a queue and have a timeline to complete them. They don’t care when I work as long as I get my forty hours in.”

If that meant she was doing it at ten tonight to catch up, that would be what she was doing.

It wasn’t like she had much of a life outside of work.

But pretty soon she was going to have to decide how much she wanted to chase stories and waste her time.

“I guess that’s something.”

“Why do you care?” she asked.

He gripped her arms and pulled her close. “Maybe I care about you. Did you ever think of that? That it never went away. That it’s always been there and been put on hold. Then here you are, back in town and doing stupid shit on top of it.”

“Whoa.” She slapped his hands off her. “That’s a good way to turn something sweet to an insult.”

He dragged his hand through his hair again. Something she noticed he did when he was frustrated.

It only made him sexier.

Which was a pretty pathetic thought that her mind was going there.

“It wasn’t meant to be either. I’m just speaking from the heart.”

Which caused her heart to race for another reason.

“Sorry. I’m not used to anyone caring about me other than my family. My second family.”

“And it doesn’t sit well with you, does it?”

“Not always.”

Because it was unfamiliar for so long. Then hard to accept once it was being handed to her.

Running away to college hadn’t lessened it though.

Carrie and Jim, they were still there for her.

Not pushing. Not pressuring. Just offering.

It was amazing how easy it was to accept a hand when it came with no strings.

Her email dinged and she rushed to see it.

When it was a reply from the Fire Man, she knew she had to let Ash know.

He was going to lecture again and she braced for it.

Especially when she read, Of course it’s my work. But you don’t think I’m telling you who I am, do you? That would be too easy.

“You just paled. What’s going on?”

“I think your arsonist has contacted me.”

“What the fuck!” he shouted and yanked the computer out of her hand, his hand going over the pad to scroll to the first message, her reply, then the next email. “Were you even going to tell me this? If I hadn’t stopped over? Or tell Tate at the very least?”

“I would have,” she said. “But you’re here. I mean, for all I know this is just a spoof and it’s someone playing with me. It happens all the time.”

“Call Tate right now,” he said. “Let the police know. I can call my chief.”