Page 26 of Saved By the Firefighter

It's not until Jake notices me, his gaze flickering in my direction before he pointedly looks away, that I snap back to reality. It's clear he'd rather pretend I'm just another part of the scenery.

I walk closer, watching him toss another bale of hay. I know he’s a firefighter, but right now he's the epitome of a cowboy fantasy come to life.

"All packed up?" he says gruffly without meeting my eyes.

"Actually, about that..." I trail off, nerves twisting my stomach.

Jake's jaw clenches. "You can't stay."

His response shouldn’t hurt because I understand the situation—just casual, friends with benefits—but it does. He’s clearly back to running cold again. But the more I think about it the more I simply feel irritated. How does he manage to build walls so high you need a ladder to get over them?

I put my hands on my hips. "Your daughter asked me to stay. She's still sick." My words hang between us, waiting for him to take hold of their meaning.

"Char asked you?" There's a shift in his tone, a crack in the facade as he pauses his work and finally looks at me.

"Yep." My confirmation seems to weigh heavily on him, his brow furrowing as if he's reevaluating things based on this new info.

“I’m her father, so I’ll take care of her. You should get back to work.” He returns to moving hay, but I can tell I've got his attention now. And that he’s going to need extra convincing.

I resist the urge to let my eyes wander over the rippling muscles of his back, focusing instead on the task at hand. "I’m not saying you can’t take care of her,” I say cautiously. “Of course you can. I…I just heard Charlotte's been having some behavioral issues at school. And since I'm a teacher, I thought maybe I could stay a little longer and help with that. It's the least I can do after you gave me a place to stay this weekend." And so many orgasms I lost count. My face flushes, but I ignore it.

Jake’s silence urges me to keep talking, to fill the space with reason and negotiation. "I'll comfort her while she's sick, and help her catch up on schoolwork. You fought that fire and worked so hard these past weeks, so you can relax and—"

"Ellie," he starts but doesn't finish, letting the word hang like a warning. He faces me, stabbing his pitchfork into a bale. Jake works his jaw, eyes turbulent. He wants me to stay; I can see it in the way his resolve wavers.

I soften my tone. "Jake…This isn't about us. It's about Charlotte."

After several tense seconds, he nods. "Fine. You can stay to help Char with her schoolwork and while she's recovering. But..." He steps closer, aware that there are a few ranch hands nearby. He lowers his voice. "No more of what happened this weekend. It'll only confuse her."

"I understand." As much as I crave his touch again, he's right. Charlotte's well-being has to come first. “And besides, won’t you be at work?"

“No. I have the next few weeks off.”

“Oh.” I swallow. I hadn’t really considered that. I thought maybe this would just be me babysitting Charlotte, but with Jake here…No, it’ll be fine. “We’ll keep it strictly professional.”

"Good." Jake rakes a hand through his long dark hair, looking away. "I should finish up here." He dives back into his work like our conversation was just another chore to check off his list.

Sighing, I return to the house. My thoughts are a messy tangle. What have I gotten myself into?

Chapter 12

Ellie

Iglance at a question on Charlotte’s reading comprehension homework sheet. "Okay, let's start with this one: 'Where does the story of the Green Knight take place?' Do you remember the setting of our story?" I tuck a stray black hair behind her ear as we lounge in a sea of plush toys and pastel pillows on her bed. Her room is a cozy capsule of childhood innocence, walls covered in unicorns and posters of cartoon characters.

A soft ray of fading sunlight hits a giant teddy bear tucked in a corner, and I smile. This room kind of reminds me of mine growing up—well, before Marcus came in and wrecked it one day. Mom grounded him for an entire month for destroying my beloved stuffed animal collection. I got him back by breaking a few of his video games. We were probably a bit too bratty to each other growing up.

Charlotte leans into my side, her little body radiating heat under the fluffy comforter, but she no longer has a fever. She’s a bit rosy-cheeked but seems to be on the mend. "In…in the forest?”

"Exactly," I say, ruffling her wavy hair, which spills over the pillow like a dark waterfall. There's no denying the kid's got smarts. “It's a magical forest with what?”

“Trees and rivers.”

“How were the rivers described?”

“Um, sparkling.”

“You got it. Can you write down 'magical forest' here? And put ‘sparkling rivers’.”

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