The Silver Fox (Red's Tavern 3)

I reached for my brulee torch, fired it up, and got to work caramelizing the top of the cake. I worked fast, enjoying the process, the flame quickly turning the sugar crystals to a shatter-thin layer on top.

My hands were still jittery, my heart pounding like a drum. I glanced up to the window, seeing that Rock was looking back at me, with the same crushy, goofy grin, and I was on cloud nine.

And that’s when I dropped the torch, and it clattered to the surface of the workstation, instantly hitting a greasy towel.

All I saw was a burst of bright light. It seemed impossible that a fire could erupt that quickly—tall flames, licking upwards, already burnishing the ceiling with ugly brown marks.

Everything was a blur. A split second later, Rock came bursting through the kitchen door, his arm pushing me aside, like a parent holding back a child in the passenger seat. Rock’s eyes darted around. He immediately reached for the torch, putting his hand so close to the flames, and somehow managed to push it to the side and turn it off.

“Cookie sheet. I need a metal cookie sheet, now,” he said.

I sprung into action. “Yes. Okay,” I said, reaching under the workstation and fumbling for the metal sheet, shoving it into his hands. He turned and in one smooth motion, smothered the grease fire with the sheet, pushing it to the center of the worktop. Smoke still hung in the room, but the flames were gone.

“It’s okay. It’s under control,” he said, his eyes pin-focused in front of him.

“Holy shit,” I said, gripping the edge of the table, my body still in panicked overdrive. “That was—”

“Thank God it wasn’t worse,” Rock said, nodding once, still examining the minor damage to the ceiling. He pushed the cookie sheet forward a little, away from the cake.

After his movement, the stack of trays under the workstation shifted, slumping against the mountain of cookware I had below it, and a heavy pot lid came down hard onto his ankle boot.

“Watch out—”

“Fuck,” he hissed, wincing in pain. He brought his leg up, hugging it.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said immediately. “It hurts, though.”

“What is going on back here?” Red’s voice came from the door, and he coughed as he walked into the smoke. “Christ.”

“The situation is totally under control,” Rock said. “But we should open up the back door over there right now.”

I explained what happened to Red and Isobel when she came back into the kitchen. When Rock felt better he stopped to give all of us—especially me—a lecture about fire safety. After what had happened, I knew he was right.

“I was careless,” I said to him afterward, when he and I were the only ones in the kitchen again, standing by the back door to get fresh air. “I know I was careless.”

“I understand,” Rock said. “It happens to everyone, sometimes. I am so glad you are safe.”

“You came flying in here like a bat out of hell,” I said.

He looked at me as if he was trying to say one thing: duh.

“I needed to make sure you were safe,” he said simply. “I don’t want a world without you in it, Chef.”

I puffed out a quick laugh. “I don’t think I would have died. It was a small fire.”

“I know,” he said. “But I still mean that. I think I want to stick around with you. So no more fires, okay? No matter how small.”

I glanced back over at the cherry cake. It now was covered in a strange grey haze left by the fire and smoke.

“I was trying to make you a bruleed black cherry cake,” I said. “That’s what I was working on. Like the flavor we had at the inn.”

“The one I loved so much,” he said. “You’re good to me, you know that, right?”

“Well, I was trying to be. But the cake is ruined now.”

“I’m sure you’ll make another one,” he said. “And then another, and another after that.”

“Oh yeah?” I said.

He nodded once. “Yup. If you’re going to get involved with me—actually involved—that is going to have to be part of the bargain, you know.”

“Making you cakes?”

“Absolutely. And I’ll save you from fires, give you really fucking good neck massages, and blow you anytime you want it.”

Whoa. My cock stirred in my pants the moment he said it, and I shifted on my feet, trying to control the bulge. Rock smiled like he clearly knew he’d affected me, and he loved every minute of it.

“That’s the first time I’ve started a fire and gotten hard in the same half hour before,” I said.

He laughed, his eyes bright. After the adrenaline of the fire had worn off, all I could feel was awe for this amazing man. He had been vulnerable with me and then literally saved my life, all in one night.