Torch (Take It Off #1)(4)
Author: Cambria Hebert

“Someone tried to kill me,” I told the doctor, looking him straight in the face. The stranger against the wall stiffened but otherwise said nothing, and I didn’t look his way.

“So you remember the fire,” he said, not directly avoiding my words.

“I remember someone trying to burn me alive.”

The doctor frowned and glanced at the nurse, who bustled out of the room quietly. “You can speak with the police about that,” he said. “I’m here to focus on your injuries.”

“How bad are the burns?”

“You have first and second-degree burns, Miss Parks. I would say you were actually very lucky. You have suffered moderate smoke inhalation. As I said, your throat and voice will be affected for a while. You were on oxygen for the first twenty-four hours that you were here, so breathing shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Wait,” I said, “how long have I been here?”

“Four days.”

“Four…” I lost four days. Almost an entire week. That was almost as scary as nearly dying. It was like I did die for four days… four days I would never remember. Four days of being immobile and lost.

“You were very lucky,” the doctor said, interrupting my momentary freak-out.

“Lucky?”

“Your injuries are not serious considering the extent of the fire.” He glanced at the stranger and then back at me. “You have first-degree burns in places on your hands and second-degree burns on your wrists. We kept you heavily sedated for the first couple days to keep you comfortable. But I’m afraid there is still going to be pain. Your skin is damaged. There may be scarring. We are keeping it clean and medicated with antibiotics to help with infection. The dressings must be changed every eight hours. Unfortunately, this will aggravate the pain. The burns on your hands are considerably less and should heal much faster. I’d like to keep you here for another day and, baring no complications or sign or infection, you can leave. I will prescribe you pain medicine for the pain and the nurse will go over how to change your dressings.” He paused with his bad news, then said, “Miss Parks, is there someone that we can contact for you? A relative, a spouse? Someone who will be able to help you during the next few weeks?”

I wanted to say yes. I didn’t want to see the flash of pity that would surely creep into his eyes when I said no. But there was no one. There hadn’t been for a very long time.

“No.”

“I see. Well, in that case, you can come by twice a day to have your bandages changed by the staff.”

“I can manage,” I said a little too harshly.

He nodded curtly. “I would like to examine you now, if that’s okay?”

I nodded.

“I’ll wait outside,” the stranger said and then disappeared.

I suffered through the exam, barely able to concentrate on the doctor or his invasive questions. I couldn’t help but keep glancing at the door, wondering if he had left. Wondering if I would see him again.

After the doctor finished torturing me and poking at the huge bruise covering my shoulder and upper arm (likely from when I fell over in the chair), he took his leave, but not before promising to come back later. Oh, joy.

I heard the deep baritone of a man talking and the doctor giving a short reply. Before the door could completely close, it was pushed open and a dark head appeared. “Can I come in?”

I nodded.

He was carrying a new pitcher of water, identical to the one sitting beside the bed. He gestured toward it. “The nurse gave me some fresh water with ice. It’s probably better than the tap water I gave you,” he said sheepishly.

I was embarrassed to realize I would have drunk sewer water if he were offering it to me.

I watched as he poured me a new glass and transferred the straw from the old cup into the new one and extended it to me. I took it, though curling my fingers around it proved to be harder than I thought, but I did it, proud that I didn’t wince at the pain of my skin stretching over bone.

He regarded me through those crystal-blue eyes as I drank down half of the water. It was icy cold and felt like little needles against my throat, but I continued to drink, my body greedily demanding more.

When I was finished, he took the cup without me asking and placed it on a table that he wheeled right up near my lap.

“You’re a fireman?” I asked. “You’re the one who…?”

He nodded. “I’m a firefighter.”

“You threw me into a pool.” I scowled.

He grinned. “You were on fire.”

“Well, there is that,” I allowed. Talking to him was entirely too easy. Looking at him was entirely too easy. I couldn’t forget the reason he was here. “You saved my life.”

“All in a day’s work,” he said, giving a little shrug.

“Should I call the nurse?” I asked.

Alarm wiped the barely there smirk off his face and stiffened his posture. He leaned a little closer, those eyes sweeping over my body. “Are you in pain?”

“We might need something for swelling,” I replied. “I’ve never seen anyone’s head grow so much so fast.” Was I flirting?

Oh my God, I was totally flirting.

Relief filled his eyes and he grinned. His teeth were bright against the dark of his scruff. “Think she’d give me a sponge bath too?”

The image of him naked and dripping wet with water had the stupid monitor beeping all over again. I hated that stupid thing.

He glanced between me and the monitor, a sly smile curving his lips. When the nurse came in and pressed the button and checked the screen, he winked at me.

He winked.

That small gesture had me clenching my thighs together beneath the scratchy blankets.

After the nurse warned him about too much excitement (I was going to die of embarrassment), we were alone again.

“I have to say…” His eyes gleamed. “You are much more amusing when you’re awake.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been here?” I said, all trace of flirting aside.

“I’ve been a couple other times.”

“A couple?”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“But why?” I blurted before my manners could rear their ugly head.

He seemed to balk at that question, like he wasn’t really sure what to say or how to say it.

“I get it,” I told him. “It’s like some fireman follow-up policy? Checking in to make sure the victim is okay?”