Page 18 of The Spark Between Us

“So you like control.” She winked at me.

“I do.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Me too. But we’ll get to that later.” Her lips twisted into a sassy smile.

My mind immediately wandered to what she meant, envisioning her controlling me in all sorts of sexy ways. I took a deep breath and refocused on my firefighter lesson, but the words came out through gritted teeth.

“Anyhow, that’s why I like being captain.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with my explanation. “Okay, next question. Can I please call you a fireman?”

“Why do you want to call me a fireman so badly?” I ran a hand through my hair.

She took a big sip of wine and exhaled. “Finn had a fireman costume one Halloween with this awesome hat. Fireman sounds a little less threatening than calling someone a firefighter, which, for me, conjures all kinds of images of rushing into fiery buildings and burning forests and battling blazes.”

I cast her a side-eye. “Well, yeah, but...going into burning places and fighting fires is literally what we do.”

“Sure, I know that, but the image of running into an inferno is terrifying. It seems more dangerous and apt to get a person killed than my image of a fireman, which is Finn in costume playing with a hook and ladder truck.”

“But...that’s the job.” I couldn’t figure her out. She wasn’t naïve, but she seemed to want to live in a kinder, gentler reality.

“I understand that, I do. But calling you a fireman sounds more benign. Firefighting sounds like something that would put you in danger, and I’ll sleep better at night if I know you’re safe.”

It was charming. Also curious. Yesterday she’d never met me, and now she was worried about the dangers of a job I’d had for over ten years? “So you’re saying you don’t want me to get hurt?”

“Of course I don’t. I realize I don’t know you at all. But...no.” She shrugged. “Please don’t get hurt. I wouldn’t...” She blinked hard and shook her head. “Look, I know what firefighting is, and I understand that you don’t play with plastic firetrucks. Your job is real. And important. And now that I know you, I want you to stay safe, that’s all. Promise me?”

Her genuine concern tugged at an errant scrap of my heart that had been boxed up and shoved on a back shelf for . . . years. I couldn’t remember a time when someone put it that way, just laid out concern about my safety, and it stirred something up that was probably better left dormant. Even my ex had never put it that way, and I’d wanted to marry her.

“I promise. I’ll do my best.” I had a resting heart rate of fifty-five, and this was the second time this evening she had my heart thudding like I’d just hit the treadmill.

It unnerved me that this woman I barely knew had gotten real so quickly.

Because I didn’t hate it.

Rather than think about what it meant or give it any sort of weight at all, I changed the subject. “Hey, how’s your mom doing? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“She’s good...oh—” Her eyes got wide when the server came over with a shit ton of food. “Maybe I overdid it on the ordering.”

Plates of charcuterie with olives and cheeses and dried fruit were placed on the table next to pulled pork sliders and cheesy bread. I’d lost track of what else we’d ordered, but I was pretty sure there was more to come.

Sarah blushed at the amount of food, and I found myself staring at her wide eyes as they took in the full plates that fought for space on our table. I allowed my gaze to linger on her face and take in her pretty mouth and long lashes while she was too preoccupied to notice.

Her skin was flushed and accented by soft curves from her cheekbones and a dimple in one cheek. It popped when she smiled. The pink swell of her lips that were already a little stained from the wine made me want to take a bite out of them. Right before I ran my tongue down the milky skin of her throat.

Stop. Just...stop.

Maybe if I told myself that enough times, the stubborn piece of my brain imagining all kinds of impossible things would fucking listen.

“You said you like to talk about work, so how about you tell me some things,” I said, pulling a breadstick from the basket and breaking it in half. I didn’t know much about physics, so I felt at a loss for what to ask. “What will you be doing at the lab?”

“Oh, you’re going from zero right to a hundred. I thought you’d ask about my teaching job first.”

“Sure, start with that. I majored in English, so everything I remember about physics comes from studying in high school with your brother.”

She grinned. “So smug and arrogant, wasn’t he? I’d ask him to help me with pre-algebra and he’d say something like, ‘I’ll try to get back to that simpler mindset.’ Please tell me he annoyed you too.”

“Finn...he was smart, sure, but he never used it to make anyone else feel dumb. He just didn’t hide it.”

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