Torch (Take It Off #1)(13)
Author: Cambria Hebert

“Here, let me.” His voice was gentle as he ushered my hands away and brought my wrist closer to him. He worked quietly, completely unwrapping the wound and then staring down at it with a somber expression. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable,” I said, offering him a smile.

“I should have gotten there sooner,” he said to himself.

Was that blame I heard in his tone? I brought my free hand up and covered his arm. “Holt, I’m alive because of you.”

“But you still got hurt.”

“It would have been a lot worse,” I murmured, thinking back to that night. “I thought you were just a hallucination,” I confided and he looked up, listening to my words. “I’d been trying desperately to get to my feet, to run toward the back of my house, but my ankles were crossed, it made it hard to stand. When I did manage, I fell over.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did flip his arm over and slid it down so his fingers could grasp mine.

“I’ve never been so afraid in my entire life. The heat, it’s so intense, you know?” He nodded and I went on. “It was getting really hard to breathe, and I could feel my consciousness slipping away. And then there you were. Stepping through the flames like some kind of superhero.”

“Maybe I should get a cape,” he quipped.

I laughed lightly. “Maybe. We were lucky the fire hadn’t spread to the back door.”

“You know I didn’t actually walk through the flames. We aren’t supposed to do that.”

I tilted my head to the side. “It sure looked that way from where I was sitting.”

He nodded. “The flames were close. Closer than we would have liked. We were actually told to fall back, to go around the back of the house. But I knew if I left, if I did what they said, you would have died.”

The enormity of what he did overwhelmed me. He continued forward even after he was told he shouldn’t. He literally risked his own life for mine. I wasn’t going to bother telling him it was a reckless choice, that he shouldn’t have done it. Because I was glad he did. And I certainly wasn’t going to make less of what he did by telling him he was wrong.

“Did you get in trouble?”

His smile was lightning fast. “Nah. The chief loves me.”

I bet he did. I couldn’t imagine anyone not loving him.

He went back to working on my wrist, applying the creams I was given and rewrapping the wound like he was handling a newborn puppy or something equally as precious.

It hurt, but the pain was overshadowed by his nearness, by the sound of his even breathing, and by the looks of concern those incredible blue eyes bestowed upon me.

“Breathe,” he reminded me, pausing in his ministrations.

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. I took a breath and he went back to work. He probably thought I was holding my breath because of the pain. It wasn’t the pain. It was him. He was unlike any man I had ever known. It took a truly strong man to be so gentle. And he was selfless, too, putting my life ahead of his own that night.

Of course, I wasn’t about to tell him that.

He flashed me a small smile, almost like he could read my thoughts, and then lifted my other wrist and he began the process all over again.

I glanced over at my cereal, long forgotten and turned to mush.

“You can make another bowl after I’m done,” he said, the words rumbling out of his chest as he worked.

“I can just stop on the way to the motel and get something.”

His eyes flashed up to mine. “Motel?”

I nodded. “I’ll stay at one until I’m able to get another place.”

“You can stay here.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I opened my mouth to give some kind of reply when he demanded, “Do you have a boyfriend?” The anger in his tone was surprising.

“No!”

He fell silent again as he finished up bandaging me. When he was done, he grasped my forearm up above the burns. “Katie, please stay here.”

I felt my insides caving. I looked away. If I couldn’t see the persuasion in his eyes, I wouldn’t be tempted. After all, I did feel safe with him and after everything that happened, feeling safe seemed really important.

He’s still a stranger. The sensible voice in my head reminded me.

For once in my entire life, I found myself not wanting to be sensible.

“Holt, I—”

He leaned forward, tugging on the collar of his button-down. “I like seeing you in my shirt.”

I liked wearing it. It was like being wrapped in his arms all the time.

He brushed his thumb across the fullness of my lower lip, his pupils dilating a bit on contact. From there, his thumb trailed over my jaw and down my neck, creating a charge of electricity between our skin. His hand tangled into the ends of my hair, and I knew he was going to kiss me.

And I was going to let him.

In fact, I kind of wished he would hurry up already.

Just as his lips descended upon mine, the doorbell rang. I jerked back like I got my hand caught in the forbidden cookie jar. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Don’t go anywhere,” he told me, and then he muttered the entire way to the door about bad timing.

It was kind of endearing.

He pulled open the door and I swear all the heat in the room was instantly sucked out to be replaced by an arctic wind.

“I’m busy,” Holt said in a cold tone that I never heard from him before and moved to shut the door on whomever was outside.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” A feminine voice came from the other side. “We both know you aren’t busy,” she said, pushing past him and stepping into the house.

Of course she was stunning. She had ultra-blond hair cut in a shoulder-skimming sleek bob, with not an ounce of frizz in sight. Her make-up was applied impeccably over skin that appeared to never see the harsh southern sun. She was tall and willowy, her movements graceful, and she was wearing short white tennis shorts and a hot-pink fitted polo with a pair of strappy sandals.

Compared to her, I looked like a troll. A short, frizzy troll full of bruises and bandages.

Her gaze landed on me instantly. I stood. “Hi—” I started, but she narrowed her eyes.

“Who the hell are you?”

Oh, I knew her kind. The kind of girl that thought she was queen bee of everything. Even if you were intimidated, you couldn’t show it because once someone like her smelled fear, it would all be over.

I lifted my chin. “Who the hell are you?” I countered.