Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(6)

Kill me now.



Drake took the ladder back to the engine. As he began strapping it back into position, Hunter drew alongside.

“I thought something was wrong when you didn’t answer my text. Now I see you were too busy chasing a *cat with claws to worry about it.”

Drake looked over his shoulder. “I was just in the neighborhood and the kid over there caught my eye. Wanted to see what was up, and it was her.” He straightened as he finished snapping the ladder into place. “She’s cute.”

That might have been the biggest understatement he’d ever uttered. Cute. Yeah. Puppies were cute. Miniature cupcakes were cute. Bunny rabbits and ducklings were cute. This girl? She was exactly his flavor of ice cream, and he wanted nothing more than to lick her up.

“Hey, isn’t this that Paws something or other place? The rescue fundraiser thing we got roped into doing at the art festival this weekend. Hold on.” Hunter stared at his phone a moment. “Yup. Look, there you are, right on the front page. No wonder you were getting acquainted.”

A grin spread across Drake’s face. “Really? I was so distracted by the razzing you guys were giving me that I didn’t really catch who the fundraiser was for. So, what’s the deal? We just hanging out at the booth, asking for donations?”

“Fuck, you never pay attention to anything that isn’t work, do you?” Hunter leaned against the engine and hooked his thumbs in his belt, his grin exasperated. “We’re gonna hand out fliers, take pictures, work at some booth and then cap it all off with a bachelor auction.”

“Hang on, what did you say?”

Before he could interrogate Hunter for more info, the woman cleared her throat behind him. He turned.

Her ponytail was askew; there were leaves in it. Marks of dirt marred her blue collared shirt, the embroidered paw prints under the Hopeful Paws logo bearing one of them. A few pink scratches lined her pale legs, the sight making him wince inwardly. That was weird. Why should he care?

“Thank you for stopping,” she said, looking somewhere past his left ear. Her cheeks were getting redder by the second. “I’m not sure how I would have gotten down if you hadn’t.”

“You look smart. I bet you would have figured it out.”

Hunter shot Drake a look, but the bastard should know better than to say anything else. He busied himself getting ready to depart, leaving the two of them alone.

She snorted. “Yeah, real smart, getting stuck up in a tree.”

Silence fell between them. Gravel crunched under her toes as she scuffed her sneaker’s toe across a broken piece of blacktop.

He said nothing, just watched her. She was pretty, even embarrassed and awkward as she was now instead of spitting fire at him. He’d probably been too hard on her earlier, but damn, something about the way she’d gotten angry at him had definitely piqued his interest. But now? She seemed ill-at-ease, and he wanted to pull her into his arms, hold her, and let her hide her embarrassed face in his chest.

What the f*ck was wrong with him?

“I didn’t catch your name earlier,” he said, threading his thumbs through his belt loops.

She blinked as if he’d interrupted her train of thought. “What? Oh, I don’t think I said it. I’m sorry, I’m just… Yeah. Sorry.”

“Excuse me?” The skinny teenager stepped forward, holding the cardboard box in front of him. “Can I leave him here now? I’ve really got to get to work, my shift starts in ten minutes.”

“Of course,” she said, reaching for the box. But just as she took it, she gasped, her right hand jerking backward. Drake stepped forward and snagged the box, which was meowing in protest now, before it could hit the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Drake looked down at her. She was cradling her left palm in her hand.

“I didn’t realized I’d cut myself on that jagged branch,” she frowned down at the small red gash across her palm. It was crusted with dirt, and the edge was oozing a bit of blood.

“Wait here,” Drake said, tucking the cardboard box underneath one arm and striding over to his pickup. He yanked open the door and reached behind the driver’s seat for the first aid kit he always kept there. Never knew when it would come in handy, and obviously, that was today. With his toolkit in hand, and Hunter, the rest of the crew, and the teenager on their way out of the lot, he made his way back to her side. “Let’s go inside and get that cleaned up, ma’am.”

“It’s not that bad,” she said, fingers curling closed over the wound. When she looked up at him, her green eyes were wary. Not unlike that cat’s when he’d pulled him from the top of that tree.

“It’s dirty, and could turn into an ugly infection if we don’t get that debris cleared. Come on, I’m trained in first aid, ma’am.”

A little bit of the fire came back into her green eyes. “Can you stop calling me ma’am?”

“As soon as you tell me your name, I’ll be happy to, ma’am.” He leaned on it that time, pleased when she glared at him.

“Everly. Everly Pitts. Follow me.”

She turned on her heel and marched toward the front door of the pet adoption center, her crooked ponytail swinging with every step.

With the box beneath his arm yowling, Drake fell into step behind her.