Page 12 of Living with Fire

I’m shocked to my core when I see the blue eyes that stared down at me in the garbage room. I think somewhere between me screaming at my landlord, and being told to breathe, I realized it was the same man that rescued me, but that’s not what has me stunned.

This man, the one who saved me, is the same man from the elevator yesterday.

“You,” I whisper, my throat unable to handle much more.

He gives me a toothy grin, like he’s as amused with himself as he was when he shook his butt at me. Before he can say a word, he’s turning serious again, and I’m pretty sure I know why.

I can feel the blood draining from my face as I stare at him, my gaze getting hazy around the edges as I start to turn away. “I think I’m gonna—”

The words don’t make it out of my mouth before I’m heaving my dinner all over the sidewalk beside his beautiful red fire engine.

CHAPTER 6

NATE

“What are you doing here?”

I grin at my baby sister, hands shoved into the pockets of my Santa Rosé firefighter jacket as I walk towards her. She’s come to a stop in the middle of a hallway in the ER of Santa Rosé General.

I shrug nonchalantly, hoping she doesn’t see right through me. “Can’t a guy come and visit his sister at work?”

Jordan looks at me like I’ve gone mad. “No.” Her arms cross over her chest, and she repeats her initial question. “What are you doing here?”

She has a point. I don’t tend to drop by without reason, and this isn’t any different. Having a sister that works in the ER can be beneficial occasionally, especially as a firefighter who sometimes wants an update on patients that come in after being in my care. Not that I’d ever ask Jordan to violate privacy laws, nor would she consider doing so, but we manage to get around those kinds of things without getting either of us into trouble.

I’m simultaneously hoping she’ll help her brother out while also questioning my own sanity. Breakfast should be the first thing on my mind, followed by a nap before I head to the bar to work on things for the accountant, but I couldn’t get the woman from the fire out of my mind.

Elevator girl.

The one who had deemed men disgusting, filthy pigs.

I hadn’t recognized her to begin with. My blood was pumping, and I was focused, strictly in first responder mode with the intention of getting a civilian to safety. As lieutenant I have to be on my game at all times while I’m on shift, but especially in dangerous situations.

When she slammed into me with fear filled, grateful gray eyes, recognition dawned. I’d met this woman somewhere, but I couldn’t quite place her despite the gnawing feeling in my mind. Unfortunately, the fire didn’t afford me the time to figure it out.

It wasn’t until I was talking to my captain later on that everything clicked into place. I caught sight of the mostly naked woman stalking down the sidewalk, a murderous look on her face. I’d seen that ire before. Hell, I’d been subjected to it before her embarrassment had taken over.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I stood there for longer than I probably should have, gawking as she strode up to a man and started giving him hell. The shouting spurred me into action, pulling her away from the man while she kicked and screamed against me. I’ll give her credit. She calmed down a lot faster than I thought she would, considering how much she fought against me.

“Hailey and Quinn brought in a girl last night from the fire down on Birch,” I explain, forcing myself to keep my hands rooted in my pockets so I don’t fidget. “I wanted to check in and see how she was doing.”

“Nate,” Jordan says, exasperated. “You know I can’t just give you information on a patient.”

“Not technically,” I hedge, glancing from left to right and over my shoulder before I look back at her. “But you wouldn’t be breaching anything if you had permission from said patient.”

“Let me get this straight,” she says, her hands resting on her hips, her long ponytail swinging over her shoulder as she cocks her head to the side. “You want me to go to a patient’s room, if she’s still here, and ask if she—what?—minds if I tell a firefighter from last night that she’s still here because he wants to visit?”

Now she’s busting my balls, and I fight to keep from frowning at her. I was really hoping she would give this to me easily, but it seems Jordan wants to take the hard road this morning. My sister can be such a pain in the ass at times.

“Jor, c’mon. I pulled her out of that building last night, and I kind of know her. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

The sass erodes from her face, her hands falling off her hips as she grabs me by the arm, concern etched in her features. “Jesus, Nate, you know her?”

Things are always harder when you know the person you’re working on, or rescuing from a scene, something that Jordan knows firsthand working in the ER. Santa Rosé is small enough that it’s inevitable we help people that we know sometimes. It’s not easy, but if I had to choose, I’d rather it be me helping than someone else. Feeling helpless is not one of my fortes.

It’s just that I don’t really know the woman from the fire. I’ve met her before, so while I’m not exactly lying, I’m not being entirely forthcoming.

“Sort of.”