Page 5 of Curvy Girl and the Firefighter Chief

The warmth of her seeps through the thin cotton, and I have to force myself to focus on the task at hand.

After dealing with the discharge paperwork and getting her prescriptions, we make our way to my truck in the parking lot. I help her climb into the passenger seat, trying not to notice how she bites her lip in concentration or the way the oversized clothes keep slipping off one shoulder.

"This is quite the vehicle," she comments as I start the engine. "Compensating for something, Chief?"

I nearly choke, turning to find her eyes sparkling with mischief despite her obvious exhaustion. So, she's got sass. Interesting.

"It's Luke, you know?" I say, pulling out of the parking lot. "And the truck helps with mountain rescue operations."

"Ah, so you're not just about running into burning buildings? You climb mountains, too?"

"Among other things. Pine Valley keeps us busy."

She shifts in her seat to face me better.

"Tell me about it. I've only been here three weeks, and most of that time was spent setting up my home office." Her voice catches slightly at the mention of her lost workspace.

"Well," I say, wanting to distract her from those thoughts, "we handle everything from fires to rescuing cats from trees. Small town means wearing multiple hats. The guys and I also run the fire safety program at the elementary school."

"Big tough firefighters teaching tiny children? That must be adorable."

I grunt, remembering last month's demonstration.

"One of my mates got tackled by a group of kindergarteners who wanted to try on his helmet. It took us ten minutes to extract him."

Her laugh is adorable, even if it ends in a slight cough.

"And these are the men I'll be living with?"

"We all have our own homes. But, yes, we spend most of our time at the fire station and sometimes sleep there," I tell her. "But don’t worry. They're good men. The best, actually."

"Even if they can't cook, apparently?"

"That's mainly Danny's fault. He tries to get creative in the kitchen. Last week, he attempted sushi."

She raises an eyebrow. "Attempted?"

"Let's just say the local poison control center has us on speed dial."

Another laugh, stronger this time.

"Well, I can cook. It's the least I can do to repay you all."

“You’re a guest in our station. You won’t have to do anything besides recovering.”

We finally get to the station, and I help her down from the truck. She sways slightly, and I keep my arm around her waist as we walk inside. The main bay is quiet – the team is out on a routine call.

"The living quarters are upstairs," I explain, guiding her toward the elevator. I'm not about to make her climb stairs in her condition. "Your room is separate from the guys' bunk room, down a different hallway. You'll have privacy."

The elevator doors close, and suddenly, I'm acutely aware of how small the space is and how close she is. She smells like hospital antiseptic, but underneath that, there's still that hint of vanilla.

"Luke?" her soft voice pulls me from my thoughts. "Thank you. Really. I don't know what I would have done..."

"Hey," I turn to face her fully. "You don't need to thank me. It's my job to help people."

"Is it your job to sit by their hospital bed all night, too?"

"No," I admit. "That was... something else."

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