Page 15 of SCRUMptious

“What happened?”

“I’m not actually sure. One minute I was stirring my glaze for the chicken, and the next thing I knew, fire was shooting out from the back of the stove. I pulled out the pan thinking that was the problem, but the flames just erupted.”

A spike of adrenaline-fueled anger surged through me. “Why didn’t you grab the fire extinguisher instead of trying to put the fucking thing out with your goddamn hands?” My eyes raked over her, taking in the singe marks on her coat. Reaching down, I grabbed her hands and flipped them over. “You burned yourself!” I cried, seeing red welts on her palms.

Lauren pulled her hands from my grip and took two steps back. She folded her arms over her chest, shoving her hands under her armpits to keep me from seeing more. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Lauren. And you didn’t answerme.”

She raised her chin defiantly. “Everything happened in the blink of an eye, okay? There wasn’t time,” she answered, her own temper flaring. “I thought it was just the goddamn bird on fire. I didn’t expect the whole fucking stove to go up in flames. ”

I stepped forward and fought the urge to fold her into my arms. Instead, I rested my hand on her shoulder. She’s safe, I told myself, letting my relief calm the raging beast inside of me. I’d never felt this way about anyone before; it was primal, calling to a part of me I’d never known existed. The deeply hidden alpha in me that said, “Lauren is yours. Claim her. Protecther.”

“Why didn’t the fire alarm go off?” she asked, her eyes flicking to the ceiling and the device. She shrugged out from under my grip and pulled over a stool. She climbed up and reached for it, but her hand fell several inches short of hergoal.

Coming up behind her, I braced my hands around her waist. “Come down from there. I’ll getit.”

She hopped off and I stepped up, unscrewing the alarm from its anchor point. Pulling it down, I showed her the problem. “No fucking batteries.”

“Fucking eejits,” she growled, wrenching the empty alarm from my outstretched hand and then wincing.

Immediately, I hopped down from the stool with the intent of checking the extent of her injuries, but was stopped short by a searing pain that shot up from my Achilles. Sucking a gulp of air in through my teeth, I grimaced and limped to the prep table. Bracing my weight on one hand, I probed my injury with the other, Lauren rushing to myside.

“Are you okay?” she asked, echoing my earlier question. “Is it your ankle?”

“No, my Achilles. I felt something pop when I lunged for the fire extinguisher, but it didn’t hurt too bad until I hopped off the stool.”

“That’s the one you had surgeryon?”

“Yeah, almost six months ago. It’s been taking longer to heal than I’d hoped … and nowthis.”

I didn’t want to say out loud what this new pain had me thinking. When I’d initially gone under the knife, the surgeon had been confident I’d be good as new in less than six months. But when it’d come time to begin physical therapy, things hadn’t felt the way they were supposed to. That’s why I’d been taking it easy these past several weeks, doing the bare minimum to keep my body in shape. But with the injury rearing its ugly head again, I was worried it’d be a long, long time before I’d be wearing my Dublin jersey again. I was the third team hooker—the back up to the back up—but before I’d gotten hurt, I’d seen enough time on the pitch to feel proud of the contribution I’d made to the team’s success. Unfortunately, I hadn’t played even one minute of the current season, and now it looked like I’d be out for the whole damn thing.

“Fuck,” she whispered, staring down at myfoot.

“Yeah, fuck,” I agreed, testing to see if I could walk onit.

When it became clear that wasn’t happening any time soon, Lauren braced herself under my arm. “Come on. Let’s get you over to thedoc.”

“You don’t have to come with me,” I argued, hopping away on one foot. “You need to take care of thismess.”

“This can wait.” She looked around the room. “Nothing to be done now. Let me helpyou.”

I stared at her for a few moments, feeling like something had shifted between us this afternoon. I’d come to her rescue with the fire, and now she was coming to mine. I found I didn’t hate the idea of accepting help from Lauren. Somehow, it seemed right. I flung my arm over her shoulder again. “Come onthen.”

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