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Shit, other than my inappropriate fantasy about Chris Hemsworth, I had almost forgotten that word existed. It had been so long since I had looked at someone and thought theywere anything more than justthere. My whole body was buzzing, my brain started to scramble backup, and I knew I needed to get the firefighter out of my house before I burst into flames.

As he turned and strolled to the door, I followed behind, deciding to make sure the lock was turned when he left. There would be no more surprise visitors in my bedroom. If there really was an emergency, it was safe to assume the door would fall right off with very little force anyway.

“Oh,” he turned around right as he crossed the threshold. “My name is Easton.”

He held his hand out, and I looked at it, scared to touch him while I felt so vulnerable. But when I looked back up into his eyes, my hand moved into his without my consent. As Easton squeezed tightly and shook, I whispered, “Jesse Olsen.”

“Nice to meet you, Jesse. Welcome to Harmony Haven.”

Without another word, he dropped my hand and turned around, carefully leaving the porch and jogging toward the fire truck still parked out front. The back door opened, and he jumped in, closing it behind him quickly. The truck started to pull away, and I closed the door, locked it, and then leaned against it as I shook my head in disbelief.

“You’re stupid, Jessica,” I scolded myself. “But you get a pass because it's been alongand lonely three years.” Not to mention, I had left myself hanging in that shower.

But the pass was fleeting, and I stood straight with a new resolve in my heart. My life revolved around Max, and that night had been a perfect example of what could happen when I took five selfish minutes.

Never again.

Chapter Four

EASTON

The ninth callto my brother’s phone went to voicemail—yet again—making me irritated that he couldn’t be bothered to answer. Sure, all nine calls were in a span of three minutes, but I could’ve been dying. Three minutes could be the difference between life and death.

Not that he could have saved my life from his penthouse in Atlanta, but he could sure as hell listen to my last words. He acted like he had an empire to run, and his family meant nothing to him.

Okay, I took that too far. West may have hated most people, but he loved his family. The one thing I knew for sure was that West would do anything for us. He was the oldest and always made it his job to take care of us, even when he had to leave town to take care of himself.

On that note, I decided to cut him some slack and give him time to call me back when his schedule aligned, and he found the right time. I was, if nothing else, understanding and patient.

But fuck that. I started to hitcallonce again, rationalizing that ten was an even number, and even if he didn’t answer, he’d appreciate his missed call count not being the number nine. Cats had nine lives, and West hated cats. He also hated science, which meant he hated the solar system—I think—and there were nine planets. Maybe. And don’t even get me started on the fact that my favorite baseball player was number nine, and he retired, leaving the Atlanta Kings weak at the catcher position.

Yeah, I was definitely calling again, but before I hit send, my phone lit up and started buzzing in my hand.

Finally.

“Hello?” I answered casually as if I hadn’t just been mentally accusing him of letting me die alone.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Grams okay?”

He sure knew how to make me feel like a dick. In my craze, it never dawned on me that he would think something had happened to Grams. She was healthy as a horse but wasn’t getting any younger.

“Grams is good,” I quickly assured him. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? It's not like you to call on a Monday afternoon. My assistant pulled me from a meeting to tell me I had nine calls from you on my phone. She was worried something was wrong.”

“Something is wrong.”Kinda. “But not with Grams, with me.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, calmer but with a hint of concern. “Something happened on shift last night?”

Sure did,I thought to myself.I fell in love.

No, that was too much. My brain was once again trying to take leaps because of the frantic state it seemed to be in. I needed to have a different angle with him. Something believable.

“We had a call to one of your houses. I thought it was empty, but sure enough, someone was living there. Bro, that house isn’t fit for anyone to live in.”

“What house? A squatter?”

“The one on 55th, just past downtown, off the main road.”

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