Fighting the Flames (Firefighter Romance #1)(53)

“Because it's not logical,” she muttered before catching sight of Toby in the living room.

All logic rushed away.

Seated cross-legged on the floor, he faced the stairs. Jacqueline would have thought he was meditating, except that there were several objects floating in the air around him. They appeared to be some sort of spinning blue crystals.

At her gasp of surprise, the crystals slowly lowered to the ground, making a circle around Toby. He opened his blue eyes and smiled. “Just practicing a few spells,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” she managed to get out. “What are those? Crystals?”

“Yes. I use them for clarity. Pretty harmless stuff.”

“Harmless. Good,” she stammered, aware of his warm gaze watching her. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Bacon? Eggs? What would you like?”

“Whatever you make will be fine. I don't usually eat much for breakfast.” Toby stood, and she couldn't help but notice how broad his shoulders were, how his biceps strained against the sleeves of his black T-shirt.

“What's Mastodon?” she asked, pointing at the logo on his shirt.

“A metal band.”

He followed her into the kitchen, seeming huge in the tiny room. Eric had been tall, but he never filled the space in quite the same way that Toby did.

“Do you like music?” Toby asked, sitting at the kitchen table. In the soft morning light, his blond hair glistened gold, and Jacqueline had to force herself to look away, busying herself with retrieving ingredients for breakfast.

“Yeah. I do. I don't really listen to metal, though. I'm more of a pop person, I guess.”

“I guess I can forgive one or two flaws in you.” Humor lit in his tone, but she didn’t turn around as she retrieved a frying pan from the cabinet.

“Well, thanks. How do you like your eggs?”

“Like my women. Over easy.”

She flashed him a grin, though she knew she was supposed to be offended. “How about bacon? Crispy or chewy?”

“Soft with gentle curves.” Jacqueline couldn’t help her lips as they widened.


“There's a smile,” he said, answering with a grin of his own. “You don't smile enough, Jacqueline.”

“With all that goes on in your bar, I'm surprised you've ever noticed.” Turning to her skillet, she hid the blush creeping into her cheeks. She liked Toby but …

“I notice more than you think.”

Jacqueline was silent, thinking about his words, about him. How different he seemed from her experiences with him in Merlyn's Bar. While she found him attractive, he had always come across as gruff, grouchy even, but this morning—it was like he was a whole different person.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Her shoulders stiffened. “Nothing, really. Just that you seem so… different outside of the bar.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jacqueline lit the skillet as propane tickled her nose. “When you're at work, you're tenser. You don't like to let people close to you.” She turned her back, lining the pan with slices of bacon. The sizzling released the succulent scent of bacon, and her mouth watered. “Now you seem relaxed. It's nice.”

When Toby didn't say anything, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her speculatively. What could he be thinking? Something in his gaze unsettled her, and she bustled around the kitchen, trying to give off a semblance of control and indifference.

“It won't work, you know.” Toby spoke softly, the chair creaking as his weight shifted. “I can tell you're worried.”

She faced him. “Wouldn't you be?” Who wouldn’t be worried in her position? Overnight she learned magic was real and that she was a banshee.

“Probably. But I've been dealing with oddities all my life.”

“I guess so.” Jacqueline returned her attention to the eggs, cracking them into a second skillet. How many wizards were there in the world? What other creatures existed? The thought raced her heart.

Toby interrupted her thoughts. “Does it hurt to do what you do?” He tilted his head to the side, the speculative gleam in his eyes growing. “I mean, when you're in full banshee mode, does it hurt?”

“It’s hard to explain,” she said. He motioned for her to continue. “I'm so overwhelmed by the grief that it feels like I'm drowning in it.”

As if her grief were tears and they poured around her creating an ocean, at the center she was the vortex, the eye of the storm, but the poetic musing still didn’t explain the emotions that reeled through her body and spirit.

“You are very powerful. I don't think you even realize it.”

“Powerful?” She laughed and flipped the bacon, adjusting the fire so they didn’t burn. “Singing to dead people doesn't seem like much of a power to me.”

“That's because you haven't tapped into what you can really do.”

The chair lurched and soft steps followed. With the slyness of a cat, he stood behind her. Jacqueline focused on the food, but jumped as his heat brushed against her skin. Tingles erupted in places that had been dormant. Toby tempted her to lean backward, place her head against his chest, and invite his teeth to nip along the delicate line of her neck.