Into the Fire (First Responders 3)

And since she was at Chris’s, and her parents had always thought she was crazy to give him back his ring, no more was said about it.

She hung up the phone, uncomfortable in the quiet.

Chris put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, then moved past her and down the hall. “Come on,” he said. “Bathroom’s this way. You can get cleaned up. You’ll feel better.”

He opened a door on the right and flipped on a light switch. “Towels are in the cupboard behind the door,” he called from the next room. She opened the cupboard and took out a fluffy bath sheet. When she turned around, he was standing in the doorway holding clothes in his hands.

“They’ll be a little big.”

Her stomach did a little flip knowing she was going to be wearing his clothes. “Thanks,” she answered, taking them from him. Her fingers brushed against his hand and tingled from the simple contact. It seemed to erase the time they’d been apart, taking her back to three, four years ago when it had been nothing to curl up in Chris’s sweatshirt or feel his hands on her skin.

She’d gotten used to seeing him around town without all the memories rushing through her brain. It had been over for a long time. But not today. Today was different. And right now it was just the two of them standing in the doorway of his bathroom.

“You can use my shampoo and stuff,” he said, his voice sounding lower, softer than she remembered. Before she could look up into his eyes, he turned on his heel and left her there, standing awkwardly holding the enormous towel and his clothes.

She had to stop this nervousness around him. They’d been over and done for a long time, and it had been her choice. Why couldn’t they just be friends, acquaintances, neighbors? It was a small town. They’d managed this long, right?

She turned on the water and let it heat up before stripping off and stepping in the tub. The scent of acrid smoke rose in the moist steam of the shower, stronger as she stuck her head under the spray. Her lip wobbled as she reached for Chris’s shampoo, something herby and woodsy, the same scent she’d recognized when he’d come up behind her tonight. She ran her fingers through the tangles in her hair. Now the scent was all over her, running down her back and shoulders as she lathered and rinsed. She eyed his bath puff and body wash and decided to simply soap up using her hands. She washed off the dirt of the day, the panic, the fear and the loss.

It was the loss that did it. Her hands halted and tears sprang to her eyes as she felt her heart break. Not just for the loss of the shelter, though that was absolutely devastating. But for Chester and the kittens, and the rest of the animals who were now without a home. The thought of them left inside the building while the fire…

Her face crumpled and she braced her hand on the wall of the shower. She should have done more. She should have gotten them out somehow.

She should have made sure that fire never happened.

When she had cried herself out and the water was losing its heat, she shut it off and squared her shoulders. She wanted to know how and why that fire started.

And once she knew that, she was going to start over. Everyone said she wasn’t a finisher, but that was just because she’d never found the one thing she believed in enough to see through to the end. Until now.

But she wasn’t going to do it tonight. She folded her dirty clothing into a neat pile and realized with heat in her cheeks that even her underwear reeked of smoke. She’d have to go commando beneath Chris’s clothing, an intimate thought made tactile as she pulled on the baggy flannel pants and T-shirt, feeling the soft material against every inch of her skin. She pulled the drawstring as tight as it would go and ignored how obvious it was that she was not wearing a bra. At least the shirt was dark blue and not a pale colour…

She’d ask him to take her home. She’d had her cry and cleaned up. There was no other reason to stay, was there?

Chapter Two

Chris stood up when he heard the bathroom door open. It had been hellish sitting in the living room listening to the shower running. He’d started to worry when she seemed to be taking so very long. Now, as she came down the hallway carrying her dirty clothes, he understood why the shower had been a long one. Her eyes were red-rimmed and slightly puffy. She’d had herself a cry in there and Chris was a bit relieved, to be honest. It was far better to get her emotions out than hold them inside to fester like an uncleaned wound. Ally had lost the shelter and not all the animals had been saved. He knew she was traumatized. Her tears were a sign she was starting to deal with it.

“Thanks for the use of the shower,” she said quietly. It looked like she was trying to smile but her lips only curved up briefly before falling again.

“Here.” He reached down and picked up a glass. “I got you a glass of wine.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You have wine?”

“I keep the odd bottle around.” He held out the glass until she came forward and took it.

“You were always a beer man,” she mentioned, holding the glass in one hand and her dirty clothing in the other.

So she did remember. There were times he saw her around town that he wondered. She had a way of looking at him that was so bland, so impersonal, it was like they’d never been lovers. In love. Engaged. He swallowed. Asking All

y to marry him had been a miscalculation at the least, a colossal mistake at the worst.

And the knowing way she was looking at him now spoke volumes. He wondered if she’d be surprised to learn that in the two months since he’d taken possession of the house, she was the first woman to set foot in it?

“Still am a beer man,” he answered. “Here, let me put those in a bag for you.”

He reached for her clothes, realizing too late that, while neatly folded, her panties and bra peeked out from beneath her shirt.

Funny. He didn’t usually find women’s underwear intimidating. And she wasn’t even wearing it…