Page 9 of Always a Bridesmaid
“I’ve got it from here, ma’am. Please exit the building.”
Pyro gently bit onto her pants and tugged, trying to coax her to safety.
Since she wasn’t doing as instructed, Ford nearly used his surge of adrenaline to scoop her up and rush her outside. But his brain had already launched into analytical mode, spinning over the facts as fast as his heart hammered in his chest.
There wasn’t anyone else in the bakery, and the fire was contained to the oven.Cutting off the source of heat will be the safest, fastest course of action for everyone.
Ford pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth, focusing on inhaling and exhaling through his nostrils. “Stand back.”
Pyro bumped the woman’s legs with his snout, herding her toward the open doorway, and she seemed to notice his dog for the first time. She backed away, giving Ford much-needed space.
The damn plug didn’t want to come free of the outlet, and a growing sense of urgency pounded away at the base of his skull. He gripped the handle of his ax and used the edge of the blade to pry the hard plastic free.
With the oxygen in the oven running short, a minor backdraft could turn into a big problem, so even if the door would open now, it wasn’t a good idea. At the risk of the blaze spreading and the bakery going up in flames, he couldn’t simply leave the oven be.
As soon as the temperature drops, I’ll deal with the fire.
A siren blared, growing louder and louder, and Ford put his hand on the woman’s back and rushed her outside.
Darius drove the firetruck up to the door, and he and Ford threw on their bunker gear. The thick gloves made it hard to get a solid grip but protected them from searing their skin. Getting the giant oven through the back door was like birthing an elephant, but eventually they managed to maneuver the appliance to the center of the alley, where they waited to see if it warranted dousing with the hose.
With the danger mostly dealt with, Ford went looking for the woman who’d been in the kitchen, attempting to put out the fire herself.
Pyro stood at her side, watching the commotion, ready to spring into action if needed. Sometimes Ford thought his dog was as big of an adrenaline junkie as he was, which wasn’t always great and had left them in tight spots before. Rest or regret, it was a question that’d haunted him more than he liked.
“Good boy,” Ford said, reaching through two layers of clothing, withdrawing a doggie treat, and giving it to Pyro.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said with a shake of her head. “I might’ve left the cupcakes in a little too long, but I don’t understand how they caught fire. Or why the door wouldn’t open.”
Ford finished patting Pyro’s head and straightened. “It was set to self-clean mode. It turns the temperature way up and torches anything inside so later you can just wipe away the ash.”
The woman’s smoke-streaked face paled. “And if there are two giant tins of cupcake batter inside?”
“They boil over and start a fire.”
Her body sagged, and Ford lurched forward and gripped her shoulders, worried her knees might give out. Pyro pranced around her legs, glancing from Ford to the woman, awaiting orders on how to help.
“She’ll be okay,” he reassured his dog. “Just experiencing a bit of shock.”
She threw a hand over her face. “More like mortification and wishing the ground would open and swallow me whole.”
“Then Pyro and I would have to hack open the ground and come find you, and I think you’ll agree we’ve all had more than enough excitement for today.”
Her hand fell away as she tipped up her chin, and he got his first good look at her. Hair the same color he liked his coffee–one cream, two sugars; heart-shaped face streaked with gray and what he suspected were trails of mascara; and a slightly prominent nose that drew his attention to her irises, which were a deep shade of brown that almost melted into her dilated pupils.
He continued to gaze into the depths, searching for…he wasn’t even sure, but whatever it was, he was relatively certain he’d found it.
Pyro barked, awakening him from her spell. People were beginning to gather at the mouth of the alley, a mob of moths to a literal flame.
The woman ducked her head, a hand going up to shield the side of her face. “Oh, great. Why is the entire town showing up?”
“Probably saw the smoke, and if not, they heard or saw the firetruck. Not only is it giant and red with flashing lights, it comes out rarely enough to attract attention. Plus, there’s not a whole helluva lot to do in town. This here’ll probably make the front page of the paper.”
She groaned, and while he knew better than to say so, her disheveled appearance suggested she’d had as shitty of a day as she claimed. “I was trying to lay low.”
“Little tip: Uncertainty isn’t the place to hide out if you’re on the run. We also don’t do low-key very well.”
Her snort-laugh was part sob, but at least he’d teased out a hint of a smile. She stepped back, patting the messy bun on the top of her head and then frowning when she touched the section that stuck up like the red comb of a rooster.
