Page 25 of Engulfing Emma

I almost correct her and have her call me Brett. But damn, I like the way she called me Lieutenant. I never thought that word could be sexy until she said it. “I guess it’s not, but we do what we have to.”

Cameron takes a huge bite from a muffin and mumbles around his food, “Emma, if you ever need to unload more baked goods, bring ’em over.”

Her lips crack into a half-smile. “I’ll remember that.” She turns and heads for the exit. “Thanks again,” she says, her eyes locking with mine.

I nod. For some reason, all words leave my brain when she’s looking at me like this. She maintains the connection another few seconds … until she almost trips over the bushes lining the driveway. She blushes and hurries away.

“Daaaaaaamn,” Denver drawls. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I felt some serious heat between the two of you.”

The others nod in agreement.

“You’re full of it,” I tell them.

“I thinkyou’refull of it,” Justin says. “Full of luuuuuuve.” He puckers his lips and blows air kisses.

“Cash is most definitely hot for teacher,” Cameron says.

“Get back to work.” I’m annoyed at their joking around. “We have to pack this shit up before next shift.”

Twenty minutes later, I leave the firehouse with my duffle bag over my shoulder and see Emma standing next to a bench across the street. She’s not looking at me. She’s looking down the street in the direction of the school.

I watch her for a minute. She takes a step, then stops and looks at the sky. Then she shakes her head in frustration and sits on the bench, putting her head in her hands.

I cross the street, drop my bag, and sit next to her. “Everything okay?”

She looks up, shocked that I’m sitting by her side. “Brett … uh…” Her gaze shifts to the sidewalk, and with her eyes, she follows it to the end of the street.

“You still haven’t gone back to the school, have you?”

She shakes her head. “The firehouse is as far as I’ve gotten.”

I look into her beautiful, tired eyes. “This last week has been hard on you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.” She stares at the firehouse. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m the biggest wimp. You probably deal with traumatic situations all the time, but what happened—it was the first time since my dad died that I was up-close and personal with something horrible.”

“I hardly think you’re a wimp, Emma. The man held a gun to your head. Of course you’ve been traumatized.”

“So how comeyouaren’t?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. As first responders, we’re trained to handle stressful situations. It’s not that I wasn’t scared—I was—but I put that aside to do my job.”

“You were really scared?”

“Hell yes, I was. I might have had to change my shorts when I got home.”

She laughs.

God, I love her laugh.It makes me want to reach out and touch her.

“I didnotneed to know that about you,” she says.

“I’m kidding. But in all seriousness, I was scared shitless.”

“Somehow that makes me feel better,” she says.

“I’m glad. I guess I’ve done my good deed for the day.”

She smiles and this time her lips curve even higher.

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