Page 3 of She's Got that Fire

I jump, nearly tripping over my own feet. A strong hand grabs my elbow, steadying me. "Whoops. Didn't mean to startle you."

Looking up into Liam's deep brown eyes, a deep tremor runs through me. Why do I want to step forward and hug him? Why do I feel tingly just from the way he's holding my elbow?

"Hi. Sorry. I'm kind of jumpy at the best of times." Stepping back, I look up to see a sign reading Wolfe Pack Gym. "Do you work out here?"

"Yup. Just finished. A lot of the VFFT guys go here." He smiles, running a hand through his hair. It looks damp, like he’s just showered. "Hey – I'm always ravenous after a workout. Would you like to join me for dinner?"

"Um…like, now?"

"Sure."

I look down at my faded black jeans and black and blue long-sleeved t-shirt. "I'm not exactly dressed for anywhere fancy."

"We'll go somewhere casual. What's your favorite spot?"

How is this actually happening? Removing my teeth from my bottom lip, I try to breathe steadily. "I just moved here a few weeks ago. I don’t really have a favorite spot yet."

His smile feels like it's lasering straight through me. "Have you been to Sandcastles yet? It's done up like a beach. Kind of cheesy, but charming."

"Can’t say I have."

"Then let's go there." He takes my hand, placing it in the crook of his arm. "Unless you had any urgent fires to set right now?"

Laughter bubbles out of me. "Not today, no."

He leads me toward a huge truck and flings his gym bag inside. "The restaurant is just around the corner." We start walking, then he stops, searching my eyes anxiously. "I feel like I'm kidnapping you. I just really want to get to know you better, Opal. Is that all right?"

Nodding quickly, I appreciate his thoughtfulness to mention that. Strangely, I trust him already. Plus, there's the whole firefighter/hero thing. "Yeah. We're good. I just…don't have dinner with men very often."

He grins as we turn the corner. "I bet you get asked to constantly though, right?" I shake my head, and he squeezes my arm gently. "Well, I'm glad you're free tonight."

We stroll into the restaurant, and he’s right: the beach vibe is just overdone enough to be cute without venturing into cheeseball. It's not very busy, and we're seated in a back corner booth.

This suddenly feels like a real date. I wish I'd had time to prepare properly, but then I would have driven myself nuts worrying about every detail. Maybe this sudden impulsiveness will be good for me?

We chat about the menu, order different entrees, then sip fruity drinks.

It takes a good five minutes for my hands to stop shaking to the point that I feel I can put them on top of the table. A few moments later, I realize that Liam is making every excuse to lightly touch my hand, tap my arm, or brush my knee with his. He's flirting with me. Which makes my knees quiver, and my stomach feel like a family of butterflies has just moved in and is having a housewarming party.

I've always assumed that quality men will think I'm a flake. Liam doesn't seem to mind my slightly ragged work clothes and disheveled hair. Thank goodness I swiped on some eyeliner today at least.

Chatting with him is surprisingly easy, as our conversation loops from beaches to beach themed TV shows. Even though he's easily ten years older than me, he listens to every word I say carefully, as if studying for some sort of exam.

Once we're halfway through our incredible dinner, sharing food and talking about shark movies, Liam leans close to whisper in my ear, "Maybe I'm not supposed to say this, but this is already the best date I've ever had."

Looking down, our fingers are intertwined. It feels so natural that I almost didn't notice.

Flames always find the fuel they can consume the quickest. Take the easiest, most flammable path.

Every single path toward Liam is easy. The way I trust him. The way he's already so considerate. The way I feel absolutely electrified just from the way he looks at me. At the same time, having all his desire pointed directly at me is a lot to take in.

"Hey." He squeezes my hand. "You seem a million miles away."

"Sorry." I gently squeeze back. "I just…kind of can't believe that I'm having dinner with someone like you."

"A boring roofer?"

"No…" What the heck, I might as well say it. "A hot firefighter."

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