Page 20 of Burn Point

I hitched the basket, which was fucking heavy with all the wet clothes, higher and walked to the kitchen. I dropped it in the front room, rounded the corner, and froze.

The oven door was open, and Jordan was bent over pulling out a tray of what looked like garlic bread. Her shorts were impossibly short. The little dip at the top of her thigh, just below her ass-cheeks, winked at me. She straightened and laid the pan on a towel on the counter, then picked up a spoon and stirred something on the stove. Luckily, her back was to me while I figured out how to speak through a confusing mixture of both lust and guilt. I had no business noticing her ass. I was no better than that asshole at the shelter.

“Grab a plate,” she called over her shoulder. “I hope you like spaghetti. It’s all I could find to throw together.” Her voice held the trace of a smile. She sounded…happy. I don’t know why the thought struck me, but I was amazed that she seemed chipper, despite all she had been through.

I took a step and found my voice. “It smells great in here. But you didn’t have to cook.”

She grinned over her shoulder at me. “I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do. You’ve probably had a hard day anyway.” She turned back to the stove with a little shrug. “Plus, I got a little bored.”

My feet were glued to the floor. I should offer to help, do something other than stand frozen, pretending I wasn’t checking out her ass and those long legs.

I looked around my kitchen, taking in the clean countertops and the empty sink. “Looks like you did more than cook. This place was a wreck when I left this morning.” What she’d accomplished in a day was impressive. And here I stood, nasty from my day.

“Mind if I grab a shower first?”

She shook her head. “Go right ahead, this needs a few more minutes to simmer.”

I jumped into a quick, scalding shower. Then my belly led me back to the kitchen.

Jordan was plating food and turned to me with a smile. She had a great smile. I scrubbed a hand over my damp hair as if that could scrub away the disturbing thoughts I kept having about my house guest.

“It’s not much, but hopefully it’ll fill you up.” She said, placing a plate of pasta on the small kitchen table and taking the seat across from me.

I slid into the chair, took a bite. It was all I could do to bite back a moan. “This pasta sauce is so much better than it usually is.”

I shoveled food like I hadn’t eaten in days and sat back, patting my full belly. “That was amazing. You found that in my cabinets?”

“I may have spiced it up a little. I was going to see if you wanted a refill, but you looked like you were having a moment and I hated to interrupt.” She propped her elbows on the table, beer in one hand.

I grinned back at her, shoving my plate away, and getting up for another beer. “You need one?”

“No thanks. So how was your day?”

I turned to toss the beer cap in the trash. “Pretty busy, had one heart attack call. Ambulances are having trouble navigating the streets, so we had to work him until they could get there.”

“Oh no, is he going to be okay?” Concern etched her pretty face.

“I hope so. We did everything we could. We had to improvise on scene, but he had a pulse when we sent him off.” Often, I wondered how patients did after a call. Sometimes we were able to get updates, but for the most part, once we turned them over to EMS, our job was done. The not-knowing left a hollow space sometimes. At least during the storm recovery, we were able to see the impact we’d made at the end of a long day. Which reminded me––

“I meant to tell you when I got in, but I got distracted by my stomach. I went by your house today.”

She gasped and her bottle hit the table with a thunk.

“You did? I didn’t know they were letting people go back to their homes already.”

I nodded and set my beer down before going to grab the basket I’d left by the door.

“So, I know most of this is wet,” I called from the front room, “and I’m not sure we can save it.” I plunked the basket on the table. “But we can run it through the washer and see if we can get any of it clean enough to salvage. Your purse and phone are in that trash bag. I’m sorry I couldn’t find your laptop charger.”

“Oh my God, Nate.” Her chin wobbled, and her eyes were glassy as she reached for the trash bag sitting on top. “You went back for this for me?”

I looked down at the pitiful basket, wishing it could be more. Wishing I could do anything to make this situation better for her, embarrassed that I’d only been able to find the bare minimum.

“Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “I was working relief in the area, so me and a buddy stopped by.”

She nodded as she fingered her meager belongings. “I feel like I could just hug you right now.”

She turned those shiny eyes on me and gifted me with a full-on smile. “Thank you so much. I don’t know that I can express how much this means. I mean, it’s just replaceable stuff, but it was mine.”

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