Page 20 of Living with Fire
He’s silent for a moment, and I think he’s either contemplating whether to let the subject go or not. I hope he does, but I’m not that lucky.
“Why didn’t you just say that?”
Looking at him, I shake my head in bewilderment. A guy like this wouldn’t get it. A guy like a firefighter, a lieutenant, someone who I’m told helps all kinds of people because that’s who he is, wouldn’t understand. I hate that I have to explain it, my cheeks heating underneath his stare. “Because it sounds pathetic. Would you want it to be public knowledge that you have no one to call, and nowhere to go?”
“I would have offered to take you out for breakfast if you’d just told me the truth,” he says, his eyes narrowed with disapproval that I lied to him.
It makes me feel a little defensive, and my tone is sharper than I intend when I fire back with, “You set your sister straight, remember?”
He has the sense to look abashed, but that doesn’t stop him from saying, “You made it pretty clear the first time we met that I wasn’t supposed to hit on you.”
I close my menu, my temper spiking marginally. “Is that what you’re doing now? Is that why you stopped and picked me up? You wanted to hit on me?”
“No. Yes. I mean—Jesus, I don’t know what I mean,” he says, scrubbing his hands over his face. I can see the telltale sign of his neck turning red. He’s flustered, and I almost laugh. Almost.
“No, I’m not trying to hit on you, and no, it’s not why I picked you up. Did I want to hit on you?” His eyes roll. “That’s a dumb question, of course I want to hit on you, but I’m not going to because you’ve had a few really shitty days from what I can tell, and I don’t want you thinking I’m some disgusting, filthy pig.”
I knew I hadn’t heard the last of that.
I also think that’s one of the sweetest things a guy has ever said to me. If that doesn’t say something about the quality of men I’ve been around, I’m not sure what does.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth,” I say quietly, and despite wanting to look down, I keep my gaze trained on his. I may not owe Nate an apology for trying to protect myself, but his kindness and earnestness make me want to give it to him.
“Apology accepted,” he says, and smiles at me. “I think I’m just relieved you didn’t call whoever that douche is.”
After a moment of hesitation to decide how much I want to embarrass myself, and how much information I should give a man I don’t know, I sigh and lean back in my chair.
“That douche would be my ex-boss,” I tell him, picking at the corner of my menu, refusing to look up at Nate. “I foolishly went out with him a couple of times, and just before our elevator encounter, I caught him screwing an intern in one of the boardrooms.”
Nate whistles low, shaking his head. “No wonder you quit.”
“Here we go,” Elizabeth says, appearing beside the table with two shakes. She sets them down in front of us. “Have you two decided what you’d like to eat?”
“Oh dear, I haven’t even looked. Nate keeps interrupting me each time I start,” I tell her with a laugh. “What’s good?”
“California Burger,” they say in unison, causing me to look between the two with a grin.
“Well then,” I laugh. “I’ll have that.”
Nate orders the same, and when Elizabeth is gone, I tell him about Preston. He sits there, listening attentively, watching me with those blue eyes so intent that it makes my stomach flutter in ways that Preston never did. I have to admit to myself that I’m a little dazzled by Nate. I know I’m still lacking in the human interactions, but I think if I had a full social calendar, I would still be dazzled by this man sitting across from me. That’s a little scary because I’ve been in that situation once before and it ended with me leaving the only home I’d ever known.
“How’s that milkshake?” Elizabeth asks as she stops by to check on us, her eyes keen and full of interest as they dart between the two of us before staying on me.
“Delicious!” I reply, having just taken a sip of the thick and creamy drink, notes of true vanilla flavor coming through, none of the fake stuff. “Honestly the best I think I’ve ever had. Nate was right.”
She laughs. “Don’t tell him that. The man will get a big head.” She glances at Nate with affection, and he looks back at her with a smirk. “So,” she turns her attention back to me. “Do you work at the hospital?”
I’m a little confused until she looks at my shirt pointedly and I clue in as to why she would think that. The scrubs.
“Oh, heavens no! These aren’t mine, they’re Jordan’s. She let me borrow them because all I had was my underwear.” Nate, who is in the middle of taking a sip from his milkshake, chokes and starts coughing, making me realize how that must have sounded, so I try to explain further. “Because that’s how Nate found me! I had to take my clothes off—”
“I pulled her out of the burning building on Birch last night,” Nate interrupts, talking over me. “She’d been using her clothes to keep the smoke from getting in.”
Elizabeth, who looked half concerned and half delighted, gasps and presses a hand over her chest. “I heard about that. It sounded awful.”
“It was, but Nate jumped in and saved my life.”
“Whoa, whoa. Calm down,” he says, gesturing in a calm down fashion. “Let’s not be dramatic.”