Page 9 of Fire and Icing

“It wasn’t hot. Trust me. It was … annoying.”

“I don’t know. I think a fireman throwing me over his shoulder would be hot under almost every circumstance I could dream up. I don’t skip the pastries. If he could lift me at all, I’d be pretty gone for.”

“You’re too easy to please.”

“And you might be a little too exacting. He did technically save your life.”

I roll my eyes. It’s something I rarely do. “He most definitely did not save my life. I wasn’t in danger, Syd. The fire was contained to two square feet of my kitchen when they arrived. I had used an extinguisher. It was smoky, but Patrick was right there with the hose. I wasn’t going to burn to death or even get a char on my fingernails. Besides, I was about to walk out myself. I just was … in shock.”

“Of course you were.”

Sydney steps in and gives me a hug. I melt into her for a minute even though we’ve got customers in the shop. They’re down at the other end of the store, immersed in their own conversation.

When she steps back, she says, “I think he saw you were in a state of shock and wanted to make sure you were safe.”

I point at her. “Don’t start taking his side. He’s a lummox. Built like a tree …”

“Like a tree?”

“He picked me up, didn’t he?”

“I have to see this man.” Her eyes go all misty and dreamy.

“No. No you don’t. The man thinks he’s some kind of hero.”

I might tell Sydney everything, but I’m definitely not telling her that I’m packing that to-go box as a thank you for the men at the station. Even Dustin. I’m packing it for the crew who showed up—Patrick, Greyson, Cody and David. Of course, they’ll give one to Dustin. I can’t stop them.

Sydney’s laughing. “He thinks he’s a hero because he technically is one. He’s a firefighter. It’s literally in the job description. Besides, a man strong enough to throw you over his shoulder? Yes, please.”

I laugh despite myself.

“Do you think you might be reeling from the whole experience? The stress of what you endured might be making you be a little hard on him.”

“Maybe,” I concede. “A little. Even Greyson said the rookie overreacted. I could have walked out on my own.”

“I think the whole rescue thing is romantic,” Sydney practically swoons.

She looks into my eyes and amends her comment. “I know, I know. We’re not team tree-trunk. I’ve got it.”

“Exactly. We don’t objectify men. We find them attractive from the inside out.”

“So, you find him attractive?” Her tone couldn’t be more delighted or teasing.

“He was wearing his fireman gear. How would I know if he’s attractive?”

“Uh huh. Right.”

I pick a donut hole out of the stack in the case and ping it at her.

“Oh, yes,” she gloats. “That convinces me one hundred percent. You totally didn’t think he was hot as Nashville chicken. Pelt me with baked goods to prove you’ve got no skin in the game.”

“There’s no game and my skin isn’t in it,” I protest. “I’m taking this delivery out. Are you good?”

“I didn’t see a delivery called in. Where’s that one going?”

“It's a special order.” I try to deflect.

Sydney crosses her arms over her chest. “To?”

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