Page 6 of Curvy Girl and the Firefighter Chief

The elevator dings before she can respond, and I lead her down the hallway to her temporary room. It's basic but clean – a double bed with fresh linens, a small bathroom, and a mini fridge.

"Home sweet home," she says, looking around. "At least until I figure out what to do about my house."

"The insurance adjustor will be around in two days. I can go with you if you want help assessing the damage."

She turns to me, and something vulnerable in her green eyes makes my chest tight. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Because I haven't been able to get you out of my head since I carried you out of that fire. Because something about you calls to me in a way I don't understand. Because the thought of you anywhere else makes me crazy.

Instead, I say, "Because everyone needs help sometimes. Even stubborn illustrators who work too late."

"I'm not stubborn," she protests, then yawns widely.

"Sure you're not. Get some rest. There's a phone by the bed – extension 1 reaches my office directly if you need anything."

She nods, already looking dead on her feet. "Will you... will you check on me later?"

"Yes," I answer, probably too quickly. "I'll bring up some dinner. Real food, not Danny's experiments."

"My hero," she mumbles, and I'm not sure if she means to say it out loud.

I force myself to leave, closing the door behind me. Leaning against the wall, I take a deep breath. This is a terrible idea.

I'm her rescuer; she's younger and vulnerable, and I'm taking advantage of that by keeping her close.

But as I head back to my office, I can't bring myself to regret it. The image of her in my station's clothes, the way she feels against my side when I support her, the sass beneath her sweet exterior – it's all combining into something dangerously addictive.

A few days, I remind myself. She'll stay a few days, get back on her feet, and then go back to her life. That's all this is.

So why does the thought of her leaving already feel like a punch in the gut?

Chapter 4 - Stella

I've just changed into fresh socks when there's a soft knock at my door. For a moment, my heart leaps thinking it might be Luke, but instead, a pretty redhead in her early twenties pokes her head in.

"Hi! I'm Sadie, the dispatch assistant," she adds with a bright smile. “I thought you might like some company and actual clothes that fit."

She holds up a shopping bag, and I could almost cry with relief.

"You're an angel. Please come in."

Sadie bounces into the room, her energy infectious.

"I grabbed some basics from the store down the street. Dad mentioned you're about my size." She starts pulling out items: comfortable leggings, soft t-shirts, and essential toiletries.

"Your dad?" I try to sound casual. "Luke didn't mention having a daughter."

"He doesn't mention much of anything personal," she rolls her eyes fondly. "But I've never seen him like this before. He spent the whole night at the hospital! Usually, we can't even get him to take a lunch break."

I feel my cheeks warm. "He was just being thorough."

"Thorough?" Sadie laughs. "Dad hasn't shown this much interest in anyone since my mother left. Between you and me, it's about time he found someone to settle down with."

"Oh no, it's not like that—" I start to protest, but we're interrupted by a commotion at the door.

"Is she awake?" a voice whispers loudly.

"Shut up, Danny, you'll wake her if she's not!"

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