Page 12 of Single Mom's Firemen

Had I met people like the Dansons before, maybe my life would’ve turned out differently. But I will absolutely do my due diligence before I send Luna and Sammy to Marie’s daycare. It’s not that I don’t trust her; it’s that I don’t trust anybody.

Colby did quite the number on my decision-making abilities, and I’m still reeling from the mountains of self-doubt that he left me with. But for now, I’ll thank the heavens for thrusting me upon the path of these folks.

I’d have been lost without them.

As the evening settles in, I put Sammy and Luna to sleep in their room. We’re all squeaky clean, smelling like fresh apples and cinnamon, courtesy of a deliciously fragranced shower gel that Wyatt left in our bathroom, along with a bunch of other toiletries and cosmetics. That list Marie gave them had to have been a foot-long, at least, because we’ve got a little bit of everything.

I head downstairs once the kids are asleep and fire up Eric’s laptop. He set up a guest account for me to use to check my emails, contact my bank and the DMV for a new ID, and to look for jobs in case the firehouse gig doesn’t pan out.

Wyatt said that Holt is exceptionally picky about choosing his new PA because he was so fond of and used to Suzy, and he still hasn’t gotten over the fact that she retired before him.

The first thing I do is look up Marie’s daycare. My shoulder is starting to itch underneath these bandages. I’m going to have to change them later. “Focus,” I mutter to myself, then take a long sip of my jasmine tea and proceed to scroll through the daycare’s website. I notice they have public records and I follow the link, going over every report with an eagle eye.

Outside, the darkness settles quietly over the back garden, the night lights coming on, one after the other. The house itself is warm and cozy.

I honestly think we’re going to be okay.

“Still awake?” Eric’s voice has me jumping out of my chair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I gasp, trying to catch my breath. I end up belting out a nervous laugh as I stand awkwardly beside the counter, slapping the laptop shut so he won’t see the amount of detective work I’m willing to do on his mom in order to make sure my kids are safe. “I thought you were fast asleep already.”

“Almost, but then I got snacky,” Eric chuckles and heads straight for the fridge.

Only now do I notice how scantily dressed he is in shorts and a tight white tank top, and I’m getting a generous view of his muscle design from where I stand. I swallow back a ball of nerves, ogling the man with impunity while he’s not looking. He settles for a Greek yogurt, then comes over to the counter, offering me some.

“No, thanks, I’m okay. I ate half of your fridge earlier,” I say with a shy smile.

“You’re looking better,” he replies.

“Well-rested. That’s the word you were going for, right?”

Eric laughs again. “It’s amazing what good quality sleep and proper food will do to your system. Oh, by the way, I spoke to Mrs. Langston, your boss at the diner. She was devastated, of course. She’s back in Dallas and wanted me to let you know that you’ll still have a job once the place is rebuilt, if you want it. It’s gonna take a while, though.”

“She’s sweet.”

“You’re sweeter,” he shoots back so fast, I barely register it.

I stare at him for a hot second. “Thank you.”

“I’m gonna miss coming in for breakfast and a coffee. You were the highlight of my day after a long shift,” Eric says, never taking his eyes off me while he plows through his yogurt.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, mister,” I giggle, but I can feel a fire spreading from my cheeks all the way down to my core.

Eric was always the sweet guy who lit up the whole room, my gaze finding him no matter where I was in the restaurant. It didn’t matter if I was serving five or six other tables. I’d never shy away from stealing a glance at him, and he would often gladly reciprocate. Now that I’m safely—and unexpectedly—under his roof, I guess he feels more comfortable around me. I certainly feel more comfortable around him.

I’m not sure when this emotional transition happened, but I’m fine to follow the flow. After almost dying in that fire, I reckon any one of life’s moments can turn into an opportunity, any chance taken into the adventure of a lifetime.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” Eric says quietly. “When I saw you up there, the flames burning all around you… I have to admit, it rattled me.”

“But you went up the ladder anyway and saved us. You’re a hero,” I reply, my voice slightly trembling.

“I didn’t like the idea of a world without you in it.”

Whoa. His words are so kind, so heartfelt. And they’re having quite the effect on me because my knees are getting weaker with every breath that I take. When did this happen? Was I not paying attention back at the diner? Was I too busy drooling over this hunk of a man to notice that he, too, was developing an attraction toward me?

“I’m just sorry I wasn’t awake for the whole thing. You know, me holding on to you for dear life, you, the dashing firefighter, carrying me out of the flames. They make movies and write books about that kind of stuff, ya know,” I chuckle.

Eric gets up and comes around the counter.

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