Page 2 of Four Firemen For Christmas

Sobbing into my shirt, I crawled another foot, and then another. Was I even going in the right direction? The thickening smoke kept me from seeing more than a few inches in front of my face. I waved a hand, hoping to clear some of it away but nothing changed.

My entire body ached. I’d scraped my knees on the floor, and breathing in the smoke scorched my throat. I coughed and it felt like my lungs tried to rip free from my ribs.

Where was the exit? I forced my arms and legs to move. “I won’t die here.”

Black danced around the edges of my vision. I shook my head but that made everything worse. Sick to my stomach and dizzy, I stopped moving and lowered my head closer to the floor. Was that a light?

I angled my head to the right and squinted. A flicker of yellow danced through the haze.

“Hello?” A disembodied voice called out from far away. “This is the Rocky Valley Fire Department. We’re here to help.”

Oh, firemen. I liked firemen. They were hot. I lifted my head and tried to call out, but all that emerged from my throat was a pitiful squeak.

“Derek, check the back. The barista is worried that one of her regulars didn’t get out.” A second, deeper voice boomed overhead. His tone was stern, the kind that demanded respect.

Footsteps thudded close to my head.

I lifted a hand. “Here.” My voice croaked so low I doubted he’d hear, but the steps paused.

“Got one, Henry.” The voice made me wish I could see his face.

It was probably a nice face to go with the velvet voice.

Hands gripped my shoulders and flipped me onto my back. When had I stopped crawling and dropped to my belly?

The yellow firefighter suit came into focus, followed by a large helmet that obscured his entire face. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

I tried my hardest to push to my feet, but my body disobeyed.

In a move I’d only ever seen in movies, he scooped me up into his arms and cradled me to his chest.

Hot damn. I was not a small woman, but he handled me like I weighed less than a bag of candy. Thank God he didn’t do that fireman carry thing I’d seen some of them do when rescuing an unconscious victim.

My skirt wasnotmade for being slung over someone’s shoulder unless I wanted to give the entire town a view of my ass. Which I most certainly did not.

Unless it was my hunky firefighter. I’d let him look at my ass.

What was wrong with me? My thoughts scrambled this way and that way, and the harder I tried to pull them together the worse I felt.

“If I’d known you were going to show up, I would’ve worn my sexy red dress.” I didn’t know what I was saying, or why I’d tell him something like that. I blamed the smoke inhalation and the man’s tight grip on my body.

A grip that increased as he dove through the smoke.

“I don’t want to die,” I whimpered. “I’m only twenty-three. I can’t die now.”

“You’re not going to die.” He sounded certain enough that I believed him. “You have to live long enough to show me that red dress.”

I tried to think of an argument to that but came up empty-handed. Anyone who carried me out of a burning building deserved a chance to see my sexy red dress. I’d only worn it for one other man, and he hadn’t appreciated it—or me.

One second, we were in the smoky building with me talking like a fool, and the next, we’re out in the sunshine.

The bright light bombarded my eyes and I squeezed them shut. My arms curled around the man’s neck as I clung onto him like he was my very own lifeline.

Heck, he might as well be. The man saved me from certain death.

Sounds rose from every side, and curiosity won out, peeling my eyes open. A crowd had gathered and pressed in from every side in a surge of morbid curiosity and worry.

My fireman carried me over to an ambulance and lowered me onto a gurney.

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