"What?" I asked, not getting what he meant.
"You know—we were just doing some stuff that may have caused something," he said, nodding his head downward.
I burst out laughing after finally realizing his problem. "So, I shouldn't tell you how hot you were making me?" I said, adding fuel to the fire.
"Please no," he pleaded as I reached out to open the door.
In the last twenty-four hours, I had been held by him a number of times, and yet this time it felt different as he cradled me tenderly against his chest. We followed another couple down the stairs and outside. Smoke was drifting from the back of the house, which alarmed us both.
"Where's Maggie?" I asked, scanning the small crowd outside.
"I don't know," Grant said, looking worriedly back inside.
"Put me down, I can hang on to the post," I said, hearing sirens in the background.
"Don't move," he said, setting me down.
"I promise not to run any marathons. Now get in there."
A woman I didn't know came over to stand beside me. "Are you okay?" she asked as I hobbled on one foot while I held the banister.
"Yeah, it's just a bad sprain. Do you know what happened?" I asked.
"I think it's another one of Maggie's mishaps in the kitchen," she laughed.
"This has happened before?" I asked, feeling somewhat relieved.
"Oh, yeah. We've been coming here for ten years, and I think Maggie has had a fire five of those years," she said, laughing again. "I was still snoozing when the alarm went off this time. Thank god my husband, Jim, heard it since I sleep like the dead. I wish he would have had the foresight to tell me to grab my shoes though," she said, pointed down to her stocking-clad feet.
I nodded my head absentmindedly. The sirens were getting louder, but I was more concerned that it seemed to be taking Grant so long. The rest of the residents didn't seem overly concerned as they chatted among themselves, but I was still a worried. Just when I was ready to hobble in after him, the first fire truck turned down the narrow lane in front of the inn. At the same moment, Grant came out from the house followed by a sheepish-looking Maggie, who was coughing from the smoke.
"Not again, Maggie," one of the firemen said, climbing down from the rig. "Is it out?"
"It was just a small one, Hank," Maggie said, shooting a guilty look at her guests.
"What did we tell you about using your gas stove?" he asked as the other men from the fire truck headed inside to make sure the fire was indeed out. Peering through the door, I could tell most of the smoke had already started to thin out.
"What happened?" I asked Grant as Maggie trailed in after the firemen.
"Grease fire. Maggie had it out by the time I made it in there, but the kitchen was already filled with smoke. We opened the back door and the kitchen windows to let it blow out," he said, taking my hand so I wasn't so wobbly. "I guess it's happened before. Maggie likes to keep the bacon grease on the stove, but she forgets to turn off the heat under it.
I laughed. I had worked long enough in the cooking field to know her mistake.
"Well, at least Maggie seems to be a pro at dealing with it," I said, watching the firemen head back out. Hank was still reprimanding Maggie, telling her he'd have to give her a citation the next time they had to come out. Maggie listened to him solemnly, nodding her head in all the appropriate spots. Once the fire truck pulled away, Maggie turned to me with the same mischievous grin I had seen the day before.
"Sorry about the early morning wake-up call, folks. The good news is breakfast is ready for those who haven't eaten and the cookies in the oven were saved before disaster struck," she said good-naturedly, leading the way back into the house. Everyone laughed with her, relieved it was nothing more serious. That, and we really wanted to get back inside. There were far too many chattering teeth as everyone stomped their feet in the cold. At least the snow had finally stopped, but the wind was still blowing around.
"Your chariot waits," Grant said, lifting me up. "I think I'm getting used to this."
"Fine by me," I teased. My eyes met his and I knew we were both thinking about our kiss and everything else that was about to happen before the ruckus. His eyes darkened while his grip on me tightened. "You want to go back upstairs?" he asked. I knew what he was asking. If we went upstairs, we would be continuing where we left off. He was giving me a chance to put on the brakes, but it wasn't necessary. I was as ready as he was.
I nodded my head, running my hand over the light-colored five o'clock shadow covering the lower half of his face. I liked this rugged look he was sporting. I continued to explore his face, taking time to trace my finger over his lip as he carried me back to our room. He startled me by sucking the finger into his mouth. My stomach tightened with desire as his tongue swirled sensually around my finger. I turned my head to see how close we were to our room. Sensing my urgency, he picked up his pace.
Our door was still open from when we left earlier, but Grant kicked it closed behind us and reached back to make sure it was locked. "I don't want to hurt your ankle," he said, looking at my wrapped foot.
"You won't," I said. At the moment, that was the last thing on my mind. My desire for him had intensified to the point of no return. I had dreamed about this moment for a long time. As he lowered me to the bed, I remembered something I wanted to ask him. "What did you mean when you said you'd been thinking about kissing me for a long time?" I asked as he pulled off my boot and climbed up on the bed with me. Taking care not to jar my ankle, he positioned me on my side so we were facing each other.
He scooted close, running a hand from my shoulder down to my hand before lacing our fingers together. He brought my hand to his mouth so he could place his lips on my knuckles before answering me. "Jams, surely you know I've had a thing for you half my life?" he said, placing a hot kiss on my wrist.