Page 18 of Saved By the Firefighter

Ellie's been on my mind nonstop since that night at the campground. After the paramedics took over, I tried to tell myself she'd be fine and not to keep thinking about her. Even after Marcus called from the hospital to give me the all-clear on her health, it wasn't enough. I've been wanting to see her to verify for myself that she's really okay. She had been so terrified...I just need to see her smile again to put myself at ease.

Of course, I've been busy battling that fire, which was finally extinguished this morning. But because all I can focus on is Ellie, when I got word about the duplex, I didn't hesitate to send a car for her. My guts were twisted in knots, feeling like all she kept doing was getting in danger while away from me. It was instinct, primal and raw—a need to keep her safe. Now that she's under my roof, I realize it might've been a mistake. Having Ellie close, in my space, it's dangerous territory. It's stirring up feelings I'm not sure I can handle, and Marcus would murder me if he knew I was letting his sister stay here. He's like the brother I never had, so the last thing I want is to betray him.

Too bad I have the awful habit of acting before I think.

Running a hand through my hair all the way to the ends, I shake off the doubts gnawing at me, trying to focus. I gotta keep my distance, that much is clear. Once Monday rolls around, I'll suggest she stays elsewhere. Can't risk getting tangled up in something deep when my world's got no room for it. No room for the pain of loss, not again. Plus, I have Charlotte to think of—I'm not sure she's any more ready than I am to invite someone new into her life, especially a parental figure.

With a heavy sigh, I push the truck door open and step out onto the ranch soil. My boots hit the ground with a thud, each step toward the house feeling heavier than the last. I'll shower first, change, then face Ellie. But I can already tell, resisting her pull might be like fighting a wildfire with a garden hose—hopeless.

When I enter the house, I stop in my tracks. Something smells amazing—roasting garlic and simmering spices. I can't remember the last time I came home to a hot meal cooking.

My boots carry me toward the kitchen on autopilot. I expected her to be in the guest house, but Ellie's there, her back to me, hips swaying slightly to some silent rhythm as she stirs a pot on the stove. She's wearing comfy-looking PJ bottoms and a shirt that's too big, hanging off one shoulder, revealing some skin. Her hair, usually wound up tight, now cascades around her shoulders, soft and loose. She looks like she belongs here.

A lump forms in my throat, thick and heavy, as memories flood in uninvited. Sarah used to stand right there, humming as she cooked, her movements full of love and care. Ellie's easy confidence in my kitchen, this most intimate heart of the home, it gnaws at something inside me. I'm torn between wanting to close the distance, wrap my arms around her, and the urge to bolt out the back door.

I've missed this too much. Missed having someone to come home to.

Ellie turns then, noticing me. She gasps, and her eyes go wide for a split second before her lips curve into a warm smile. A smile that lights up the room and threatens to melt the walls I've built around my battered heart.

I really need to get her out of here Monday. For both our sakes.

"Hey." My voice comes out gruffer than I intend.

"Didn't hear you come in." She brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and damn if it doesn't make my hands itch to do the same.

"Truck's quiet," I lie, because of course it isn't. It's a rumbling beast that announces my presence before I even hit the driveway. But admitting I lingered outside, wrestling with thoughts of her, isn't an option.

"Is Charlotte with you?" Ellie asks, tilting her head to the side, and I'm pinned by her gaze.

"Nope. Staying with a friend for the weekend."

The air between us is charged, crackling with unspoken meaning. We're alone with no else for miles, and the weight of what that means hangs heavy. I clear my throat, desperate to break the moment, to steer us onto safer ground. "So, what's cooking?"

"Wait and find out," she teases, a playful glint in her eyes as she shoos me away with a hand. "Go relax; dinner will be ready soon."

I nod, retreating from the kitchen. In my bedroom, I peel off the layers of smoke and sweat, still feeling the heat of the kitchen—or maybe it's just her—clinging to my skin. I need to remember that she's only here temporarily, why I can't allow myself to get tangled up in whatever this is brewing between us. She's Marcus's sister, and I've got enough ghosts without adding another to the roster.

As the shower runs, I brace myself against the tile, letting the water remove the grime and, with it, hopefully some of this dangerous longing. It's going to be a long weekend. Too long.

The hot water beats down on me, but it's not enough to wash away the thoughts of Ellie being here, cooking for me. My mind goes back to our kiss, how good she felt in my arms. I'm getting hard just remembering her soft lips, her hunger for me. I stroke myself a few times, trying to satisfy the need. A few rough pumps, fueled by the image of her smile, her touch, and I'm teetering on the edge. But no, this can't happen. I twist the faucet to lower the temperature. As icy water hits my skin, I remind myself that I can't go there with her. Ever. I only hope I don't end up doing something repulsive and dumb this weekend.

With a towel wrapped around my waist, I rummage through the dresser for something to wear. Simple jeans and a shirt, nothing that suggests I'm trying too hard—or at all. Can't give her the wrong idea.

After I'm dressed, I join Ellie in the dining room. She made us steak and roasted potatoes with a small salad—simple but delicious. My stomach growls.

"Thank you," I say before digging in.

We eat in silence and I avoid eye contact. Forks scrape against plates as we eat, the sound a harsh reminder of the tension between us. It's suffocating.

"Thanks again for rescuing me," she says softly, breaking the quiet.

My muscles tense. Is she going to bring up the kiss next? I nod and wait.

Thankfully, she returns to eating and I let my muscles relax.

After another long stretch of silence, she says, "Didn't know you had a ranch."

"Yep," I say, not giving her anything more. I know if I start opening up, it'll be the end of me. And the less she knows about me, the better we'll be able to remain strictly neighbors once the duplex is repaired. "You're welcome to stay for just the weekend," I add, trying to give a clear hint. I'm not trying to be a jerk but...maybe it's unavoidable. “While you’re here, make yourself at home.”

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