Page 8 of Curvy Girl and the Firefighter Chief

"Just helping Stella get settled, Dad," she says innocently, standing up.

As she passes him, she mouths 'go for it' at me behind his back.

Left alone with Luke, I'm suddenly very aware that I'm sitting on a bed, and he's looking at me with those intense blue eyes that seem to see right through me.

"I brought soup," he says gruffly. "Easy on the throat."

As he sets the tray down, I catch myself admiring how his uniform shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. Sadie's words echo in my mind: 'He deserves to be happy.'

But am I really the one that can make him happy? And more importantly, should I even be thinking about this when my life is literally in ashes?

Yet, as he fusses with arranging the tray just right, checking if I need anything else, I can't help but wonder what it would be like to break through that gruff exterior and find out what lies beneath.

"Would you like to join me?" I ask, gesturing to the chair near the bed. "I mean, unless you have chief duties to attend to."

He seems to debate internally before settling into the chair. It creaks under his weight.

"I should probably make sure you can actually eat without choking."

"My hero," I tease, remembering saying something similar earlier. "Always saving me from potential hazards."

A small smile tugs at his lips. "It’s my job."

"Is it your job to personally deliver soup too?" I blow on a spoonful, delighted to find it's actually quite good. "This is delicious. Please tell me Danny didn't make this."

"No, this is my recipe." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I'm starting to recognize as a nervous habit. "My mom's, actually. She always made it when we were sick."

"A firefighter who can cook. Be careful, or all the single ladies in Pine Valley will be starting fires to get your attention."

His face darkens slightly. "That's actually happened before. Mrs. Wilson from Cedar Street used to burn toast every Sunday morning deliberately."

I nearly choke on my soup, laughing. "You're kidding!"

"Wish I was. Had to have a very uncomfortable conversation with her daughter about it."

"Well, I promise my fire was completely accidental," I say, then immediately regret bringing it up as memories of last night flash through my mind.

The smoke, the fear, the feeling of being trapped...

"Hey," Luke's voice is gentle as he leans forward, his large hand covering mine. "You're safe now."

The warmth of his touch anchors me to the present.

"I know. Thanks to you."

His thumb absently strokes the back of my hand, sending shivers up my arm.

"Stella..." he starts, then seems to catch himself, pulling his hand back. "I should let you rest."

"Luke," I catch his wrist before he can stand. "Stay? Just for a little while? I... I don't want to be alone right now."

He settles into the edge of the bed, his expression softening. "Okay. But you should try to eat more."

I obediently take another spoonful of soup. "Tell me something about yourself. Something that isn't about being a firefighter."

He's quiet for a moment, considering. "I restore old motorcycles in my spare time. Have a whole garage full of them at home."

"Really? I wouldn't have taken you for a gearhead."

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