Page 4 of Deck the Fire Halls

Short brown hair, sun-kissed skin, smiling hazel eyes and a grin that stole my breath. “Morning,” he said, voice like velvet. Then he looked me up and down, and I swear he chuckled. “Nice pajamas.”

I looked down at myself, horrified to see my robe open and my navy pajamas with pink flamingos and rainbows on full display. They were old. I’d bought them for a Pride Pajama Party at med school, and everything else I own had been packed. I’d kept them outwith the intent of throwing them out once I got settled in...

“You okay?” he asked, concerned now. “You just moved in, right? Need help with anything?”

His kindness threw me for a second, not to mention his ridiculous good looks. “I, uh, I’m, um...” I looked down at the cup I’d forgotten I was holding. “Coffee,” I said.

Like an idiot.

Then I noticed the Hartbridge Fire Department logo on the breast of his coveralls, under his leather jacket.

Oh my.

Of course he was a firefighter.

“Hi, coffee,” he said, smiling obscenely. “My name’s Soren. It’s nice to meet you.”

CHAPTER TWO

SOREN DE SILVA

“What the . . . ?”

I stood up from my desk and walked to the open doors of the fire hall.

“What is it?” Chucky said, coming to stand beside me.

Hartbridge Firehouse was on Main Street and traffic wasn’t uncommon before eight o’clock as people went to work and school, but a now-familiar Audi SUV pulled up across the street at the medical clinic.

Nothing too unusual about that either. Except the clinic didn’t open until nine and the factthatcar had been parked next door to my house for the last two days.

“That’s my new neighbor,” I admitted quietly.

We watched as he got out of his car, dressed immaculately in tan trousers and a black coat. His short sandy-grayish hair was neatly brushed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Except he looks a bit more put together now than when I saw him yesterday,” I added.

His hair in disarray, his navy robe falling open to reveal his pajamas with flamingos and rainbows on them. Pride pajamas, if I ever saw any.

I’d asked him if he was okay, and he’d stammered that he was fine, and sorry, said it was nice to meet me and that he was busy, and ran back into his house.

It was all a bit odd, not gonna lie.

And I’d considered going over and introducing myself properly later on but figured I’d give him a few days to get moved in and settled. Moving was stressful, after all.

“Is he the new doctor?” Chucky asked.

He had a brown messenger bag over one shoulder and was carrying an archive box from his car. He tucked it under one arm so he could unlock the door, and disappeared inside. “He’s got keys, so he must be?” I shrugged, still unable to get the flamingo pride pajamas out of my head.

“Imma be right back,” I said, heading out, just as Doug came out of his office.

“Where are you going?” he yelled.

I half-turned and held up two fingers. “Two minutes.”

I ducked across the street and up to the clinic door. It was open, and I popped my head in as he was sliding his box onto the reception desk.

“Uh, hey,” I said.

He spun around, startled. “We’re not open.” He held his messenger bag defensively. “I should have locked the door, sorry. If you’d care to come back in an hour?—”

---