Page 11 of Burn for You

Seth kept a hand on my arm as he glanced up and down the street, searching for anyone who might have thrown that firework.

“Do you have any idea who might want to cause trouble for you?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“I only moved here a few weeks ago. I barely know anyone except my coworkers. And you.”

His gaze flicked to me with a small, pleased smile.

“You don’t know me that well yet, sweetheart. I had to get your name from your business card. We’re practically strangers, but I’m flattered that I’ve made it onto your list of acquaintances.”

I bit my tongue at how goodsweetheartsounded with the slight hoarseness in his voice. This time, I didn’t reprimand him for it.

Sheriff Beck emerged from my office building a moment later, holding the charred remnants of the firework in a plastic bag.

“Do you have anyone you can stay with for a while, Miss Jenkins?” he asked.

My heart lurched against my ribs. I couldn’t believe this was really happening.

“No,” I said. “I’m new to the area. My parents still live back in California.”

“Then I’d like to station an officer outside your residence for a few days. Just to be on the safe side.”

I nodded, fiddling with the sleeve of Seth’s jacket. He tightened his grip on my arm with a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll keep an eye on Miss Jenkins until the officer shows up,” he said.

Sheriff Beck retrieved his phone from his pocket, dipping his head with gratitude.

“Sounds good. It would be best to evacuate the office building before I assign a detective to take a look around here for documenting evidence.”

I blinked, switching into professional mode. I slid Seth’s jacket off my shoulders and handed it to him.

“Of course, I’ll get on that immediately. How…how long does the office need to be closed?”

“We’ll turn the place over to you by tomorrow.”

***

An hour later, officers swarmed the building and three police cars lined the street. Red and white lights flashed in the growing dusk. My body felt heavy and slow with exhaustion after everything that had happened today—the arsonist, the firework, the knowledge that someone didn’t want me here.

I perched on the curb, rubbing the rapidly growing tension headache in my temples. Then a familiar pair of firefighter boots came into view. When I glanced up, Seth gazed down at me with a styrofoam bowl of ice cream in each palm.

“Thought you could use something sweet to cheer you up,” he said, taking a seat beside me.

I tried not to think about how his shoulder pressed lightly against mine, warm and strong. I accepted the bowl he held out to me, mounded with chocolate ice cream, drizzled with too much caramel, and loaded with rainbow sprinkles.

“I…actually can’t remember the last time I had ice cream,” I said, taking a scoop with the plastic spoon.

“Let me guess,” Seth replied. “You only eat organic, non-fat, no sugar, healthy, tasteless food, so you can operate at peak professional efficiency.”

I cast a sideways glance at him.

“Are you mocking me?”

He smirked with a faint chuckle, licking his spoon clean. I stared at the sweep of his tongue as my stomach twisted and my mind whirled with fantasies I should not be entertaining.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “A little.”

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