Page 14 of Living with Fire
For a moment she’s silent, stunned I think, and then she throws her head back and laughs. The sound of it shoots pleasure straight down my spine, and I break into a wide grin. I don’t think I’ve ever heard laughter so intrinsically pure and joyous, and I’m certain I’ve never been the cause of it.
“Well then, forget you saving me from the building—thank you for saving me from myself,” she says, her laughter dying off, though the smile remains.
I’m glad it stays because it’s stunning, and I like that it’s turned on me. Caused by me.
“You’re welcome,” I tell her before glancing briefly over my shoulder to the curtain. “Did they tell you when you might be able to bust out of here?”
“The nurse—”
“Jordan,” I interrupt.
She looks surprised, then nods slowly, her smile fading a touch. “Right. Jordan. She said the doctor should be around within the next half hour and would probably discharge me then.”
“Want some company until then?”
The woman’s gray eyes narrow slightly, and she tilts her head to the side, appraising me. I’m pretty sure I’ve just crossed an invisible line, probably the same one that had her telling me not to hit on her in the elevator. I’m about to apologize when she tries to cut to the chase.
“Not to be rude, but—”
I hold my hands up in resignation. “Say no more. I probably shouldn’t have come to check on you, but I know you had a couple of tough days and wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I should have realized that you wouldn’t want some strange guy coming around, though, especially after the whole elevator incident.”
I run a hand through my hair, the nerves that I was doing a good job at hiding coming out in a rather pronounced, blabbering way. “But you should know that I’m not some strange guy. I mean, I am, to you, but I know lots of people, and most of them don’t think I’m strange. They’d definitely all tell you I’m not a disgusting, filthy pig.”
Fuck. Liam’s right. I have no game.
“I was just going to say that I don’t even know your name.”
“Oh shit.”
The grin on her face gets wider, and I can tell it’s taking a lot for her not to laugh at me right now.
“Wow, I am so sorry,” I apologize, my face heating all the way down to my neck as I move to the side of the bed and hold my hand out for her to shake. “Nate Miller.”
Jesus. It’s like the heat of every California summer night shoots through me when she slides her hand into mine. I feel electricity sizzle around us as our hands are connected, our eyes locked on one another. I’m sure she can feel it too. Surprise flashes in her eyes, and I know mine are a mirror of hers as we stare at each other, lost in the moment together.
Her voice is throaty when she breathes her name out to me, “Savanna Walsh.”
“Savanna,” I repeat, committing the feeling of her smaller, delicate hand in mine to memory. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you.”
Slowly I let her hand go, and the moment we’re no longer joined I miss the warmth, but I force myself to glance at the chair beside the bed. This woman has made it extremely clear that she doesn’t want anyone hitting on her, and I’m not about to do that. Besides, I just proved to myself, and showed her, that I don’t have game. “Mind if I sit for a while? I promise I won’t hit on you.”
I thought it would get a laugh out of her, referencing the elevator, but instead she looks sad for a fraction of a second before it fades and she nods. “Sure. I’d like that.”
Taking a seat, I cross an ankle over my knee, leaning back in the chair. It’s not the most comfortable, but we’re in a hospital, and I’m pretty sure they don’t make any part of these places comfortable. “So, no permanent damage from the fire?”
“Nope. All thanks to you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along,” she tells me, picking at her fingernails. I wonder if it’s a nervous habit.
I shrug like it’s no big deal, because to me, it isn’t. It’s my job to pull people out of burning buildings, wrecked cars, or a multitude of other scenarios that I come across in my daily life as a firefighter.
“Liam or Brody would have found you if I hadn’t,” I say, referencing my two best friends, both of whom are under my command at the firehouse.
“I guess I’m extra lucky then,” she tells me with a smile, and damn if that doesn’t warm me from the inside out.
“You are,” I nod affirmatively. “Liam would have tried hitting on you before you were out of the room, and Brody, well, he would have acted like me, but he’s not as good looking.”
Jesus Nate, take a bite of some humble pie.
I find myself grinning when she gives a small giggle, despite my thoughts. “Seriously, though, you are really lucky. How’d you end up in there, anyway?”