Page 2 of No Good Fight

Especially not tonight when I’m seeing him at his best, and I look like I’m ready to crawl into bed.

Of course his job is to save people from disaster. All I’m doing is reporting on the fire for the local paper, and my audience online.

“Older wiring?” I ask instead, forcing myself back into work mode.

“No idea yet, but it wasn’t an accident. Off the record.” His eyes move over my face briefly. “You come alone?”

The question catches me off guard enough that I blink at him.

“Yes?”

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

“It’s late.”

“I’m aware of how time functions, Ryder.”

That actually earns me a quiet laugh, which is rude because his laugh does unfortunate things to me. Everything about him does unfortunate things to me lately.

Or maybe not lately.

Maybe always.

I really don’t want to unpack that standing in front of a burning apartment building.

Somebody yells Ryder’s name from near the engine.

He glances over, and they sign something between them before Ryder looks back at me again.

That look does things to me..

I want and crave and hate it at the same time.

It’s too intense.

Too focused.

Too aware.

Like he notices every single thing about me all at once. I’ve been waiting and dreading that look since the moment I saw him. Because it’s the only honest thing between us.

The only truly honest thing.

Ryder watches me like I’m his everything, and I’m too afraid of ruining our friendship to acknowledge it.

It only lasts a moment, but the naked adoration and lust I imagine I’m seeing from him makes heat crawl slowly up my throat.

“You cold?” he asks suddenly.

“What?”

His eyes flick downward toward my legs.

Only then do I realize I’m standing outside in November wearing leggings beneath an oversized hoodie and absolutely nothing resembling weather-appropriate clothing. Oh, and on my feet are a pair of Hey Dudes that I’m wearing without any socks.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shivering.”