Can't Help Falling In Love (The Sullivans #3)(8)

The power of her smile, the way her eyes lit up and a sweet dimple appeared in her left cheek, rocked all the way through him. He could get drunk on her smiles—was already feeling like he’d been knocked off center by just one.

If Megan were someone he’d met at a coffee shop or bar, if she were one of his siblings’ friends—if she were anyone but someone he’d rescued from a fire—he would have not only been working on ways to get her to stay longer, but also to charm her phone number and a date out of her.

But the only reason she was looking at him with her heart in her eyes was because he’d saved her and her daughter’s lives. He knew better than to let himself fall for her and her pretty little girl.

He didn’t have to force his expression to harden at the memories of what an idiot he’d been in the past when he’d ignored professional boundaries and—stupidly—got involved with a fire victim.

“Of course he wants to hear it,” the little girl said, and then, when he remained silent, turned to him and said, “Don’t you?”

In the end, Gabe couldn’t let the kid down. “Sure,” he finally said in a tone that implied just the opposite. “Why not?”

But Megan read him loud and clear, pulling her daughter away from him and into her arms.

“We didn’t mean to bother you,” she said in a slightly defensive voice.

He didn’t tell them they hadn’t been a bother. It was better for them to think they had. That way they wouldn’t come back. That way he wouldn’t see either of them again.

At his curt nod, she said, “I appreciate you letting us come to see you today,” then took her daughter’s hand to pull her out the door.

“Do we have to go already?” the little girl protested. “I bet he has some really cool stories about all the scary things he’s done.”

In an instant, he saw in Summer the same desire for excitement and adrenaline, to live every single ounce of life, that he’d always had in himself.

Megan turned back to him, wary now. “I’m sure Mr. Sullivan needs to get some rest, baby.” She forced her lips into a false smile that made his chest feel like a hundred-pound weight had just landed on it. “Say goodbye now, honey.”

Summer frowned, with a mini-press of the lips that perfectly mirrored her mother’s. And then instead of saying the goodbye her mother had insisted on, she said, “Do you think maybe we could come by the fire station some time? You know, so you could show us around?”

Megan didn’t give him a chance to say a word, saying, “Summer,” in a clear warning that had her daughter sighing in resignation.

“Goodbye, Mr. Sullivan.”

He wanted to smile at the sweet little girl, wanted to let her know that the way he was acting didn’t have anything to do with her, and everything to do with knowing better than to let himself fall into something that would only end up hurting all of them in the end.

Instead, all he could say was, “Goodbye, Summer.”

Chapter Four

Two months later…

Megan wrapped an oversized towel around herself and stepped out of the bathroom to get changed into her clothes. The apartment they were renting until they could find the perfect new place to buy was small enough that she could see into the kitchen as she headed for the master bedroom.

“Summer, what are you working on?” she asked, trying to hold on to her patience as she took in the flour on her daughter’s cheeks and hair...flour that was, no doubt, all over the kitchen floor, too.

In the past two months, whenever Summer did something that made her mad, all Megan had to do was remember how small and fragile her daughter had been during the fire, how much she’d longed for the scrapes and mishaps Summer always managed to get into, and the little frustrations would disappear.

Only, these past few days, it seemed that Summer was more and more intent in her efforts to rile her up—and Megan was holding onto her calm by a very thin thread.

“Making muffins,” Summer hollered back, loud enough for the next apartment building over to know exactly what was going on in 1C across the street.

Although Megan had always loved looking out over the streets of San Francisco, she would never again live anywhere but on the first floor. She’d almost stopped having nightmares about being trapped on the third floor and having to crawl down what had seemed like endless stairs, and she’d take safety over views anytime. If she missed the views, well, that was just something she’d have to suck up and deal with.

“Okay,” she said slowly as she tucked the towel in tighter beneath her arms and stepped barefoot into the kitchen. “But what brought this on at—” She stopped to look at the clock on the oven. “—six-fifteen in the morning?”

They were both early risers, but her daughter wasn’t normally quite so industrious this early, especially not on the first day of winter break.

Summer gave her a wide smile, the one she always used on people to charm them into giving her exactly what she wanted. Megan liked to think it didn’t work on her. Not too often, anyway.

“We can bring them by the fire station.” Summer widened her smile. “For the firefighters to eat for breakfast.”

The first few weeks after the fire, Summer hadn’t stopped asking questions about fire, about fire engines...and about Gabe Sullivan. Megan had answered the technical questions as best she could with the help of the Internet and some books from the library. But she’d done her best to sidestep her daughter’s inquiries about the firefighter who had saved them. Particularly the ones about going to see him again.