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DAMON

Idon’t often quote my grandfather, but I will now.

Bloody hell, it’s hotter than Satan’s arsehole.

Driving back to Old Hemlock Valley, I have the truck windows open, and I’m practically hanging my head out like a dog. Wind usually works better than the air conditioning.

I’ve not usually particularly sensitive to heat, but after two weeks of training with the volunteer fire department while wearing heavy gear for hours at a time during our warmest weather, I’m exhausted. Too exhausted to go get groceries and cook tonight, that’s for sure, even though I’m ravenous.

I pull up in front of Fran’s Diner, glad it’s not too busy. After a week hanging out with the guys, I’m ready for some quiet time.

I walk into the classic fifties-style diner hoping for a seat by the back window, but there’s a group of older ladies gathered around there. So I sit closer to the front door, at a table with a clear view of the kitchen.

I order my usual – burger with a salad – then stare down at my hands for a few minutes. Nobody expects a contractor’s hands to look pretty, especially when he’s a volunteer firefighteras well. Still. Maybe one of these days I should slap on some aloe vera cream or something, so they don’t fall apart completely.

My gaze drifts to the kitchen when I hear the familiar sizzle of burgers, and I notice a new cook back there behind the grill, not the usual older guy.

Staring into the pass-through, I absently follow the back of her head around the kitchen. Not for any particular reason, just that I’m zoned out, and she’s the only thing moving. Her high ponytail sends her long, dark brown hair swishing around as she makes quick, efficient movements.

Then she turns, setting my order up on the window…and I feel like I’ve just chugged five espressos.

My heart rate actually speeds up, blood rushing to my extremities…and elsewhere…and making my head spin. She’sgorgeous. Her fair skin is tinted pink across her cheeks and upper throat, and her large, dark blue eyes are rimmed with thick black lashes. She’s a cross between the classic girl next door, and an old school movie star.

Her finger taps the bell very softly, signaling Gina. She smiles at her, saying, “They asked for extra pickles, so give them this as well.”

My burger arrives with a small side bowl of two different kinds of pickles – a thoughtful touch I would never have expected. I practically inhale my incredible food, but my gaze never leaves the kitchen.

By the time I’ve finished, I’ve noticed an important detail about this striking girl. When she’s facing the restaurant, she has a bright smile on her face. As soon as she turns away, the smile drops, and sometimes her eyes close for a second. It almost looks like she’s having trouble breathing.

Gina brings my check, and I set the money on the table. But I don’t want to leave. I just can’t. There’s something about thatgirl in the kitchen… I need to at least check on her to make sure she’s okay.

She’s wearing the bright, friendly smile as she comes out from the kitchen, handing Gina a platter of cookies for the display case that wouldn’t have fit safely on the pass-through counter. When she turns to go back to the kitchen, there’s a pause.

Ohshit. I know the signs. The thousand-yard stare. The way she doesn’t seem quite certain where she is in space as she holds onto the counter.

With three fast lunges, I catch her before she hits the floor, cradling her head gently.

“You’re okay,” I murmur, not sure if she can hear me or if my words are even true. Her eyes are flickering, as if she’s truly out cold. Wait…no… She’sreallyhot. Her skin is burning up.

“Oh my God!” Gina exclaims, running over. She grabs a menu and fans the girl’s face with it. “Allie? Allie, can you hear us?”

“You’re okay,” I murmur again, gently brushing a few stray hairs out of her eyes. “We’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re going to be fine.”

Her eyelashes flutter, and I smile warmly as she opens her eyes. “You’re okay,” I repeat gently. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

She looks around and tries to jump up with a start, but I gently hold her down. “Just relax for a moment. Slow, deep breaths. It’s okay.”

She grabs my hand frantically. I shouldn’t feel…whatever this feeling is. Wow.

“Allie,” Gina says softly, placing a hand on her knee, “You’re at Fran’s. You’re safe.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice is light and sweet, but sad. “I overheat really easily, and the kitchen?—”

“Ice water…” I start to say, but Gina’s already grabbing some. Slowly raising the girl to a sitting position, I shift behind her so she can lean against my chest while she sips it.

“I’m fine,” she murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”