Page 11 of Time Bomb

“Where was this one taken?” Her fingers trace the flames of burning trees in the background.

“Fort McMurray, Canada. Back in 2016. I was there for a week. Nearly ruined an entire city. One of the angriest fires I’ve ever encountered.” I still remember the devastation left in the wake of that horror show. It was like a ghost town when I’d left.

“Do you do it often? Leave to fight wildfires?” She isn’t looking at me, which can mean a hundred things. Her shoulders are tense, and her arms are crossed, so I have to believe it’s out of worry for me.

After sliding the pan of chicken into the oven, I approach her, standing behind her slight body. Slipping my hands onto her hips, I draw her frame back into mine, cradling her against my body as I lean over to kiss the side of her neck.

Goosebumps rise on her flesh as she shivers, her hands moving to hold mine. “I go about once a year, wherever I’m needed. Fighting fires is a calling for me, Philly.”

“What happens if you don’t come back?” The emotion in her voice has me wrapping my arms farther around her body before turning her in my embrace.

“That’s a risk with any fire I fight. Wild or in the city. It’s what I signed on for when I took the job.” I see the understanding mixed with fear in her eyes.

Ophelia is terrified of letting herself feel something for me out of fear of losing me. Christ, she’s precious.

“I’m good at what I do, Philly. I don’t take risks I don’t need to. I’m always cautious, but a fire is never predictable, so, yes, the risk is higher.” I pause, letting her process that. “I promise to always do my best to come back to you, though.”

I don’t give her a chance to respond as I swoop down to capture her lips with mine. I’m unsure who needs the connection more, her or me. But I’ll be damned if I don’t take it anyway.

Ophelia

“You made this?” Torque’s eyes shift as a crimson hue brightens his cheeks.

“Honestly, my mom did. I just stuck it in the oven.” I smile at his bashfulness.

“So do you actually cook, then?” Dipping my last bite of bread into the marinara sauce, I savor it because whether he cooks or not, his mom is amazing.

“I do. She taught me everything I know.” With his dimples, his grin comes off boyish, and I feel myself getting heated. “Tonight, however, I just wanted you here with me. I didn’t have a plan, and since I’ve got a few of her meals in the freezer, it worked out.”

Bringing the glass of rosé to my lips, I swallow back the last bit as I ponder his words. “Next time, you’ll cook for me then?”

His eyes light up. “So, there’ll be a next time?”

I shrug, not committing to anything. But if he were to ask me formally, the answer would be yes. I’m drawn to Torque in a way I’ve never experienced before. I enjoy the way he makes me feel. There’s no pressure, despite the number of kisses he keeps stealing from me.

“There’ll be a next time.” His smoldering gaze has me biting my lip and lowering my eyes. Torque is intense in a way I wasn’t expecting. He makes me want things I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to even wish for.

I grew up in a less-than-ideal situation. It left an imprint on me, and even on the days where I think I’ve outgrown my fears of men and what they’re capable of, they often come roaring back tenfold. But with Torque, every emotion is displayed on his face. He lets me know what he’s thinking and feeling without saying a word.

“Can I offer you dessert?” There’s a double meaning in those words that I don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Not yet.

“Sure.” I won’t lie to myself and say I don’t want Torque; I do, with a ferocity I’ve never felt, but I want to go slow. I want this to be everlasting.

Watching as he gets up from the table, Torque disappears momentarily before returning with a frozen pie and a pail of ice cream.

“Apple crumble, okay?” I nod, biting back a smile as he preheats the oven again and puts the ice cream in the kitchen freezer for now.

“Your mom again?”

“Actually, one of the guys at my firehouse. His wife is a baker. At least once a month, she sends us single guys home with an assortment of desserts.” His arms cross as he casually leans against the counter.

I think he’s waiting for me to become jealous. Is that what’s happened with others? I’ve never been that type of person before. Not that I have a ton of experience. But I figure, if I’m going to be jealous about a guy, then it’s a red flag because he isn’t making me feel secure in the relationship.

Since we’re just starting out, I don’t feel it’s warranted. Especially with her being a colleague’s wife, and she does it for more than just Torque.

“That’s nice of her,” I finally say as I stand and bring my dishes to the sink. After a quick rinse, I begin placing everything in the dishwasher.

His hands on my arms stop my movements. “You don’t need to do that.” His breath blows hot against my neck, where his mouth lingers just inches away.