Page 45 of Burning for Alexander
I left everyone else to finish loading up the trucks and made my way home to my quiet rental house, noting the property could use a bit more of a fire break. While I loved living in the trees, I didn’t want them close enough to light the cabin on fire.
After showering off the worst of the dirt, sweat, and blood, rehydrating and making sure my core body temperature had returned to normal, I tugged on a pair of pajama pants and slid between the cool sheets.
Hours later, someone banged loudly enough on my front door to wake me from a dead sleep. I grumbled my way to the door and threw it open, ready to bark my strong opinions at whichever one of my crew had decided to show up here.
But I didn’t get the words out before I realized that someone was Alex Marian. And he was holding another cardboard box.
Thankfully, this one didn’t seem to be on fire.
13
ALEX
IndexEcho:I had a dream about you last night. Nothing inappropriate, just… us talking in person. Your voice was different than I imagined.
DrunkenPoet:Better or worse different?
IndexEcho:Soooo much better. I wanted to listen to it all night.
_____________________
When I wokeup and heard about the fire, I didn’t think much of it. Unfortunately, brush fires were common around here in summer, and we’d had plenty of them. But then I’d overheard that the Legacy FD had been called in for the initial response and had stayed all night to contain it.
“Chief Kincaid was a beast,” Kinsey Pope had told Sadie at the Pinecone when I’d stopped in for coffee and a muffin. She’d looked exhausted and proud, her hair still wet from a shower andher eyes bright with excitement. “Man’s a good leader who gets right in there side by side with the crew. And he’s strong as hell, hauling timber and equipment.”
Sadie had winked at her. “Sounds like someone has a crush.”
Kinsey had shaken her head and grinned. “Little hero worship, maybe. But no crush. Besides, I think he has a girlfriend.”
I’d felt a little smug satisfaction knowing he didn’t, but I hadn’t been about to spill Kincaid’s beans all over town. “Hey, Sadie, can I get the breakfast special to go along with two coffees and an extra cinnamon roll?”
And now, here I was, stupidly standing on the fire chief’s front porch with breakfast in my hands when all the man probably wanted was some peace and quiet to catch up on sleep.
Well, fuck that. I was here, and his eggs were getting cold.
I banged my fist on the door again, and this time, I was rewarded. Except instead of seeing an angry Kincaid, I saw a bleeding Kincaid.
“What the hell happened to you?” I asked, shoving past him so I could put the box of food and coffees down. “No one said you were hurt.”
“Because I’m not.” His voice was sleep-graveled and rough. “What are you doing here?”
I pointed to the box while moving to the bathroom I could see across the open kitchen and living area. “You have a first aid kit in here?”
He poked through the box, pulling out one of the coffees. “Ah, I’m less annoyed now,” he grumbled before taking a sip and groaning in pleasure.
I found Band-Aids and ointment in the cabinet below the sink and moved back out to the kitchen, where he was propped against the counter, cradling the coffee cup.
“You just here to rifle through my shit?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
He looked downright edible. Shirtless and wearing nothing but a faded pair of cotton pajama pants slung dangerously low on his hips. My brain skidded to a halt.
I took him all in. The broad chest peppered with crinkly hair that made my fingers itch. The patchwork of raised scars on his forearm I felt the strangest urge to kiss. The slightly padded belly I wanted to drag my lips down. The hint of pubic hair above the drawstring of his pajama pants.
I may have let out a gurgle.
“That right?” he asked, amusement clear in his voice.
I blinked at him. “You have blood crust on your face.”
