Page 10 of Dandelions and Smoke

That’s a good sign, right?

Instead, her other hand lifts with a slight hesitation, and as I step into her, she rests it on my chest. A small gasp leaves her lips, and a slow smile forms as the tension between her brows smooths out.

“And here I thought I was the only one whose heart was racing.” Slowly, her eyes rise to meet mine through her long lashes.

“I didn’t believe I still had one until you showed up tonight, Little Lion,” I admit, surprising myself.

For months, the heart I’ve carried has been nothing more than a battery keeping my body moving. For years, it hasn’t known how to beat the way it does tonight. Tonight, with her, I feel alive.

She lets out the sweetest giggle and bounces softly on her feet.

“Well, in that case,” she says playfully, dropping some money on the bar and adding a Boozy Bear koozie to her bag before throwing it over her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

She tosses me a lopsided grin that I’ve already decided is my favorite look on her, and with our hands still intertwined, she walks us out of the bar.

“Good Lord, seriously,” she shrieks, putting her flannel on and wrapping her arms around herself. “Why is it so cold here?”

I laugh, stepping down the two stairs and turning back toward her, remembering what she said earlier about the cold. Even now, the top of her head barely reaches my nose.

“It’s not that bad,” I argue, pulling out my phone and checking my home screen to reveal that it’s almost midnight and sixty-seven degrees. “See, sixty-seven degrees.”

I hold out my phone to her, intending for her to see the temperature at the corner of my screen, but as her gaze locks on, her smile disappears and is replaced with furrowed brows. It looks as though there’s a question in her eyes, but before I can ask, a smile forms, softening her features.

“He’s adorable.” She chuckles. “And looks just like you.”

I turn my phone around and look down at the picture of my son. A mix of emotions crashes into me like waves trying to drag me under. On my lock screen is a picture of my little boy on Christmas morning, four and a half months ago. His gummy smile fills the frame, his blue-green eyes peeking out from under his toy firefighter helmet. I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat and clench my jaw.

A small hand finds my cheek, her thumb moving gently across it in comforting strokes. I meet her gaze and realize mine has grown blurry with unshed tears.

“Give it to me,” she whispers. “Whatever it is that you’re carrying, let me help you.”

I stare back at this woman who, only a few hours ago, was nothing but a stranger and feel something deep inside me come undone. It feels like a rope wound impossibly tight around me begins to unravel, each strand releasing the pressure I’ve been carrying. My hand comes up, covering hers where it still rests on my face, and I give it a gentle squeeze.

The music from inside floats through the door as the last party walks out, causing our bodies to shuffle and shift to the side, bringing us closer. I can feel her warm breath as it reaches my face and the shiver that goes through her, though I’m not sure if it’s from the temperature or something else. I take off my turnout coat and drape it around her shoulders, liking the way it envelops her, like a barrier between her and the world.

“You don’t have to do that,” I reply, my voice coming out hoarse.

“But what if I want to?” Her blue eyes are shining as they search mine.

Staring into them, it’s as though I’m looking into the perfect storm. As the thought crosses my mind, a strike of lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a crack of thunder. She jumps, but instead of looking scared or apprehensive about the sudden change in the weather, her whole face lights up, her lips splitting into a grin as she looks up at the sky with wonder, taking my breath away.

Who is this woman?!

“Did you drive here?” she asks, looking around at the mostly deserted street parking.

“Unfortunately, no.” I grab the back of my neck as heat crawls up it. “Those two guys you met earlier dragged me out tonight and conveniently left me here.”

“Hmm,” she hums, her lips pursing as her eyes narrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they set you up.”

The heat travels from my neck into my face. I’m not the kind of guy who takes a woman I just met back to my place, but at the moment, I’m not seeing many other options. I open my mouth to ask if she can take me home, but before I get a word out, her head falls back with a laugh.

“Come on, Chief. I’ll give you a ride.” Her brow lifts with a playful innuendo before she’s laughing again and skipping down the stairs.

As she heads for a more than questionably safe-looking car, I catch the way the word Chief is spread across her back and can’t deny that there’s something about it that sends a jolt of longing straight through me. I might like the way that looks a little too much.

She turns the key in her Ford Focus a few times before it finally decides to turn on.

“She’s tired,” is the only explanation she gives before pulling onto the road. “If you keep watching me and don’t tell me where I’m going, we’re both going to end up lost. Not that I’d mind, but to be fair, I have been awake for over twenty-four hours, so pretty soon I will be crashing, and I’d like to do that hypothetically, not literally.”