Page 72 of The Fix

Which fire?

“Why?” I squeak out.

“Because.” Voice low, his grip curls tighter around the back of my neck. “You’re not freezing to death on my watch.”

With that, he releases me so fast I stumble back a step.

“The bedroom is going to take a while to get warmed back up,” Toby says like I’m not standing here trying to collect myself. “’Til then, you should stay out here.”

I’m nodding, but I’m not even sure what I’m agreeing to as I stumble back another step and drag in a cleansing breath. Except even that is filled with all things Toby. That citrusy-tobacco scent mixed with campfire and leather and I’m fairly certain my brain cells are scrambling even farther.

“Do you know how to start a fire?”

“Um.” My tongue feels too heavy to answer. Too ready to flop out of my mouth and pant instead.

Get it together, Anna.

“Take care of the damn kettle, then get your ass back over here.”

Nodding again, I scramble my way across the cabin, returning to his side with two mugs of hot tea.

Why does being this close to him turn my brain to mush?

“You have to build a teepee with the sticks like this,” Toby explains, stacking the smaller logs on top of the ash pile so that they come to a point. “The bottom needs air.”

“Okay.” I bite my lip.

I should not be this horny—

Oh my God, what is he doing to me?

“Kindling goes in the middle. Smaller sticks, paper, whatever will catch easy.” He wads up some stuff that looks more like dead pine needles and shoves it into the opening left between the upright logs. “Now you need to light it.”

My brows shoot up when he looks over his shoulder at me expectantly. “Oh, crap. Okay.” My hands freeze with the mugs still stuck to my palms until he chuckles and takes them from me.

Scooping up a match from the floor, I find the box on the other side of Toby’s crouch and strike the stick against the sandpapery side of the cardboard.

I immediately toss the small flame into the fireplace and gasp when it bounces off a log and lands on the stone.

“Crap!”

Toby’s quicker than I expect.

He snags the match before it can catch another one on fire and throws it into the mess of stuff at the bottom of the peaked wood. “It’s not gonna burn you if you take the time to aim.”

Huffing, I shove the box at Toby. “Here. You do it.”

“Nah. Needs another one.” His gaze catches and holds mine long enough that he tilts his head at the fireplace. “One more.”

Growling, I swipe the remaining matches from the hearth and keep one to light. This time, I take a moment before flicking it into the small flame, the stick landing on the opposite side from Toby’s.

It doesn’t take long for them both to catch the kindling on fire, the flames rising to meet the logs.

“If I hadn’t already put those other logs in there, you wouldn’t need the peak. Not in a fireplace like this.” I bob my head, but I’m too focused on watching the flames take over. “That’s what that metal rack in the bottom is for.”

“Okay.”

The fire builds, catching the bark of the logs and transferring to the two already in the bottom. Heat blusters out, licking at my face. I reach out, feeling the heat take over my extremities and lick at my skin.

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