“Oh my God!” she yelped, backing up.
What should she do? Was there a fire extinguisher around somewhere? Knowing Callum, undoubtedly there was, but she didn’t know where and didn’t want the house to burn down while she tried to find it.
The smoke detector began to scream. She grabbed the kitchen towel, waving it frantically at the alarm. Black smoke poured out of the oven, curling upward in ominous waves.
The front door burst open.
“Sloane!” Callum’s deep voice cut through the chaos. His gaze swept the room, taking in the smoke, the fire, and her panicked expression.
“I’m okay,” she blurted, her voice breaking as tears spilled over. “I was trying to make dinner.”
She grabbed a cup of water to throw into the oven, but he stopped her. “Believe it or not, that can spread the flames. Let’s just close this door, and it will burn itself out.”
Sure enough, not thirty seconds after the door was closed, the fire was gone. Callum calmly walked over to the still-blaring smoke detector, reached up, and held a button on it. A moment later, there was blessed silence.
He turned to her with a smile. “Crisis averted.”
Except for the fact that dinner was completely ruined. Sloane slumped against the counter, tears leaking. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, but I ruined everything.”
In two strides, he was at her side, pulling her into his arms. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
She shook her head, burying her face in his chest. “No, but the food… I messed it all up. I couldn’t even do one thing right. I wanted to do something for you since you’ve done so much for me.”
“Hey,” he murmured, stroking her back. “It’s okay. It’s just dinner. We’ll order pizza, all right? Or…” He pulled back slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Or I’ve got some frozen chicken nuggets we can microwave. You’d be surprised at the versatility of barbecue sauce.”
She choked out a laugh despite herself, her tears still falling. “You’re too good at this.”
“What, firefighting or cheering you up?” His smile softened as he cupped her cheek. “Angel, no one’s ever tried to cook me a meal in this house before. The fact that you even wanted to means everything to me.”
Her tears slowed, his words soothing the sting of failure. “You mean that?”
“Every word.”
She shook her head.
“What?” he asked.
“You come in from a hard day’s work, the house is half on fire and the alarm is shrieking, and you so calmly handle it all. You were like that in Moldova too. How are you always so confident?”
“Is that what you think? Come with me. I’ve got something to show you outside.” He tugged her gently toward the front door.
She frowned, confused. “What is it?”
“Just trust me.”
They stepped onto the porch. The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet. Callum pointed to his car parked in front of the house.
“I sat there for five minutes before coming inside,” he said, his voice low. “Just staring at this porch. Thinking about what it could be. Embarrassed at what it wasn’t.”
Sloane looked around, puzzled. There was nothing wrong with the porch. It was solidly built, sturdy. “What do you mean?”
“I imagined a swing right here.” He gestured to the left. “And some flowers, you know, in railing planters all along here.” He pointed to both sides. “Painted shutters, like I’ve always planned to get around to but haven’t yet. Maybe even a little fire pit.”
She could see it in her mind. “That would be beautiful.”
He let out a sigh. “I know. And I could’ve done any of that in the past seven years since I moved in, but I haven’t. Because I didn’t care. I didn’t see it that way. Not until you were here. I wanted a homey porch that felt like you.”
Her breath caught. “Callum…”