Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Less than five minutes later, Mae cranes her neck to look out through the kitchen window. “Your fireman’s here for you, Elena.”
I frown at her. “He’s not my fireman.”
“He’d like to be,” she says in a sing-song tone. “I see the way his eyes follow you in town. And not just him. Three of the firemen, if I’m not mistaken.”
I’m learning Mae is hardly ever mistaken, but she’s wrong about the reason their eyes have been following me. I’m not ready to tell her about the men’s connection to my husband, though.
I give T.J. a hug and a kiss, and tell Mae to call me if she needs anything.
I’m preparing to run out to Calder’s truck, but he comes to the door. He has a spare coat draped over his shoulder and is carrying two pairs of boots, mine and T.J.’s.
“Morning,” he says in a gruff tone.
Technically, it’s still morning for a few more minutes, but the day already feels incredibly long. “Morning,” I say. I can’t manage to add good before my greeting like I usually would.
“These were by your front door.” He holds out both pairs of boots to me.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. Come in for a minute.” I step back, tug off the rubber boots one of the other firefighters gave me earlier, and put on my boots, which smell of smoke.
“Do you need a jacket?” he asks. “I brought one of ours.”
“They gave me one earlier. Thanks.”
Mae appears, and Calder, who hasn’t come further than the doorway, greets her with a tone as respectful as the one Buck used earlier.
“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 permanently fixed 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 turning pink.
“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.