In Safe Hands (29 page)

From the other three's reluctance to answer her, she had to assume his refusal had something to do with her. Had the chief ordered him to take her out of the house? Ian shouldn't be blamed for her actions, and she'd made it impossible for him to force her to leave. What else would the chief have ordered Ian to do?

Her breath caught as the answer popped into her head—so obvious that she was angry with herself for taking so long to figure it out.

“He was ordered to evacuate.” Her voice was flat as another layer of guilt settled over her. “Chief Early told Ian to get out of the house, but he wouldn't because I wouldn't leave.”

“It's not the first time.” Junior reached a hand toward her, as if to give her a consoling pat on the shoulder, but he withdrew it without touching her after a wary glance at Chris. “Not even the tenth. Walsh has some issues with the command structure. Chief says, ‘Get your ass out of there
now
,' and Ian's brain adds, ‘Unless you have a better idea.'”

“He won't leave anyone behind.” Although Rory was frowning as she watched the door, she didn't seem angry at Daisy. “Much less a friend.”

“Should I talk to the chief?” Daisy asked, leaning back against Chris. His arms tightened around her, and she felt even guiltier for receiving comfort that she didn't deserve. All of this had been her stupid fault. “If anyone is reprimanded, it should be me. Ian probably won't even tell him about the knee strike.”

“I'm still waiting to hear about that.” Although Junior's tone was light, there was still tension underneath his teasing. Like Rory, his gaze was fixed on the door.

Daisy smiled halfheartedly. “I think I've done enough damage to Ian today. You don't need more ammunition.”

“But it's important to give Beauty a hard time,” Junior protested, his amusement becoming more genuine. “If we don't shrink that head of his, it'll explode. The dude is seriously too hot for his own good.”

Opening her mouth, Daisy closed it again without speaking, not sure how to respond to that. When she glanced at Rory, she saw the other woman roll her eyes and look briefly amused. Daisy decided to change the subject for the good of them all.

“Who's watching the gun store?” she asked Rory.

“No one.” Rory turned her attention away from the door as she answered. “When the call came through, I stuck my ‘Back Later' sign on the door and headed this way. Ian beat me here, though, since he was already at the Simpson grocery store when he heard the call. He left his basket of food and ran outside. When he heard the sirens of Rescue One approaching, he realized they'd go right by the store, so he grabbed his bunker gear from his Bronco, flagged them down, and hitched a ride.”

“Should we see if they're done boarding up the windows?” If they weren't, she'd rather not wander into the kitchen or living room and face the gaping holes, but her phobia had caused enough issues for the day. She was going to pretend to be a normal person, just for a while.

“I'll go check,” Rory volunteered, darting out the door even before she finished saying the words.

“And I'll make sure Rory doesn't decide to defend her man by shooting the chief or something.” Grabbing his medical bag, Junior followed her into the hall.

When they were alone, Daisy craned her neck to look up at Chris. At that oblique angle, all she could really see was the underside of his jaw—his very tense jaw.

“You okay?” she asked, trying to pull away so she could look more directly at his face.

“No.” His other arm joined the first, so she was doubly locked to his chest.

Giving up on her escape attempt, she relaxed in his hold, feeling the usual rush of security and desire. She'd happily spend the rest of her life in Chris's arms.

“You could've
died
, Dais,” he said, his voice rough. “I couldn't do anything out there, except watch your house and pray it didn't explode.”

“I'm sorry.” Patting his arm, she winced. Her apology seemed so…paltry in response to the residual terror she could hear in his words.

“I know.” His lips pressed against the top of her head. “And I know there's nothing you can do, except continue what you've been doing. It's just that I've always thought you were safe in your house. Now, with the fire across the street and this gas leak… It feels like you're stuck in a trap.”

“Yeah.” The same thought had occurred to her, and she shivered. “My thinking brain knows that, but the rest of me is determined that outside is the scariest place.” That time, when she pulled away, Chris let her go. She stood and turned to face him full-on, so he could see how serious she was about her next words. “I'm going to do it, Chris. I'm going to get out of here.”

“Yeah, you will.” She could tell he truly believed it, and her chest warmed. Having Chris on her side made everything seem possible, and it made her even more determined to become the partner he deserved. It was terrifying, the thought of leaving the house, but the idea of continuing her lonely, trapped life was even more frightening. She stood on her toes, stretching up to meet him as he bent to kiss her.

Their lips had barely made contact when Junior's voice made them jerk apart. “Yo. Windows are done, and you're needed in the kitchen.”

“Which ‘you'?” Chris asked, not hiding his irritation at the interruption very well.

Junior shrugged with a grin and then disappeared from the doorway.

His chest lifting and then falling again in a silent sigh, Chris pressed his lips to her temple and then took a step back. “Ready?”

He didn't specify what exactly he was asking. Was she ready to face the broken windows, the other firefighters, the chief, Ian, or her stove? Except for the last one, the honest answer was “no.” But when Chris held out a hand, his smile closer now to his usual happy one, she interlaced her fingers with his.

“Let's do this.”

“Sorry I wasn't able to get here before this.” Guilt made the lines in the stove repairman's leprechaun-like face droop. Apparently, there was a lot of that emotion being passed around. “Seemed like everyone and his brother needed repairs done this past week.” Wally gave her newly fixed stove a glare. “I didn't think this was going to turn into a real emergency, though.”

“I didn't either,” Chris told him, giving Wally's shoulder a friendly slap. “If I'd thought it was going to be a problem, I would've been harassing you to get over here.”

The repairman frowned. “Like I told the sheriff, it was a freak thing the way it started leaking. I've never seen anything like it.”

Chris's cop-face settled into place. “What do you think caused it?”

Lifting his hands in an I-don't-know gesture, Wally shook his mostly bald head. “No idea how the line could've been damaged like that.”

“Do you think it was intentional?”

Until Chris asked that question, Daisy's attention had been only half-focused on the guys' discussion. She hadn't been able to keep her gaze from drifting to the sheets of plywood hiding the empty window frames. Once she heard the word “intentional,” however, she jerked her head around so she could stare at them.

Wally gave a hoot of laughter. “You cops, always looking for foul play. Who'd want to hurt this nice lady?” He bobbed his head in Daisy's direction.

“There's no way the damage could've been deliberate, then?” Chris pushed, not sharing the repairman's amusement.

“Well, I wouldn't say there was ‘no way' someone did this on purpose.” Wally smoothed the white fringe that circled his bald spot. “Just doubtful, that's all. You done with this witness, Deputy?” Without waiting for an answer, he started collecting his tools. Chris ignored the sarcastic remark and stared at the stove.

“Thanks for coming over so quickly,” Daisy said when it became evident that Chris was too wrapped up in his thoughts to continue the conversation.

Wally waved off her thanks. “I'm just sorry I didn't get here before all of this”—he gestured toward the wood-covered kitchen window—“happened.”

With a nod, she escorted the repairman to the door. He lifted his cowboy hat from the coat rack and tipped it toward her before exiting. Once the inner door closed behind him, Daisy's hand reached for the first dead bolt out of habit, but she caught herself before she could lock it. Letting her hand drop to her side, she stared at the unsecured door, reminding herself that she had made progress, despite what had happened earlier.

Shaking off the residual guilt and shame, she headed back into the kitchen, where Chris was still staring at the stove. Everyone else had left almost an hour ago, and the house seemed oddly quiet without the firemen and deputies stomping around the place.

“Chris? Did you enter a fugue state or something?” She boosted herself onto the counter next to the stove.

Although he turned his head toward her and focused on her face, he ignored her question. “Did anything unusual happen between when I left this morning and the gas leak?”

“Unusual?” She frowned at the cabinets directly across from her, trying to recall. It felt like a week had passed, rather than just hours. “Let's see. You left—and it was more like afternoon than morning—so I finished packing up the dolls. No, wait. Before that, I took a shower, texted my grocery list to Tyler, and
then
I got the dolls ready to be shipped. Oh!” It wasn't really relevant to what Chris had asked, but she'd forgotten in all the hubbub. “I met Bill for the first time—in person, I mean, instead of just over the intercom.”

“Bill?” There was an icy edge to his voice.

“Yes. You know, Bill the delivery driver? Beard and belly?”

“Right.” For whatever reason, his tone had warmed to its normal temperature. “The dolls are gone, then? You survived. Congratulations.”

“Barely,” she said in exaggerated relief. “I'm shocked the toothy one didn't chew on me while I was sleeping.”

Chris snorted. “Like you ever sleep.”

“Hey! I did a pretty good job last night—this morning really.”

His smirk turned smug as his eyes narrowed in a way that made her wiggle on the counter. “Yeah, you did. Wonder why that was.”

“I'm not sure.” Although her cheeks were hot and her stomach was squirmy, she faked nonchalance. “Whatever the reason, it was nice to sleep so deeply. My dreams were really good, too.”

“They were?” He shifted toward her, and her breathing got faster, though not from fear that time. “What were they about?” His next step brought him close enough that her knees almost touched his thighs.

“Um…” Distracted, she stared at the half inch of space that separated them before raising her head to meet his eyes. “Fireman Steve.”

With a growl, he lunged forward and yanked her off the counter, turning her laugh into a shriek. He held her steady, but she still wrapped her arms and legs around him, both to keep from falling onto the tile floor and just because she had the right to hold him now.

“I'm kidding,” she giggled, hugging him tighter. It was hard to remember how she'd managed to keep her hands off him for eight years. Her willpower was extraordinary, she decided. “Fireman Steve had no role in my dreams, not even a walk-on part.”

“He better not have.” Although Chris's voice was still growly, she had a feeling the current rasp had more to do with the feel of her in his arms than jealousy. He tucked his face into the crook of her neck and was doing really interesting things with his teeth, things that raised goose bumps from the spot below her ear where he was nibbling, all the way to her ankles. She tilted her head to give him better access.

“Oh!” she breathed when those clever teeth closed on her earlobe. “That's very nice.” At any other time, she would've been embarrassed by her inane words, but now she was too preoccupied by how he could reduce her body to helpless shivers with such a simple action.

His chuckle vibrated against her skin, bringing another quiver in her chest. “I aim to please.”

“Well, your aim is excellent.” She sucked in an audible breath when he bit on the muscle sloping from her neck to her shoulder. “That's a bull's-eye, right there.”

With a rumbly laugh, he raised his head from her throat and kissed her square on the mouth. By the time he pulled back a fraction of an inch, she'd forgotten where they were. Her world had narrowed until she was aware only of Chris, the way he was pressed against her, and how his breathing was visibly fast and hard, showing her that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Resting his forehead against hers, he said in that wonderful, deep and rough voice, “I have to run out to my truck.”

It took a moment for his words to penetrate. When they finally did, she frowned and pulled back her head. “You're leaving?”

He grinned at her. Even in her annoyed state, she was so happy to see the return of his wide smile. “Not to leave. I just need to grab the supplies I bought after I left your house this morning.” At her raised eyebrows, he corrected himself. “Fine. Afternoon.”

“Supplies?” When the lightbulb flickered on in her brain, she immediately felt foolish. “Oh,
supplies
! Right. I'll just…ah, uncling myself, then.”

His laugh regained its gravelly texture. “I like it when you cling.” He tightened his arms, as if to demonstrate.

“Me too, but it makes going outside a little tough for you.” Although she tried to laugh, one of his hands slid over her butt, turning the sound into more of a hiccup. His face was in her neck again, and she almost melted, only remembering his necessary errand the second before she forgot everything except his mouth.

Reluctantly, she released him, her legs unhooking from around his waist and her arms dropping from his shoulders. His grip kept her dangling several inches off the floor.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

Loving how the sound felt on her neck, she shivered and resisted the urge to reestablish her hold on him. “Supplies, remember?”

For a moment, she thought he would ignore her. Daisy was surprisingly okay with that. Just as she was losing herself in his ministrations, he sighed and gently lowered her until she was standing on the floor. Her legs were as wobbly as they ever got post-panic attack, and she grabbed him to keep her balance.

“Okay?” he asked once she'd steadied.

She smiled up at him. “Perfect.”

As he looked at her, his grin turned predatory. He leaned down but then stopped. With a groan, he took several steps back and turned his face to the side. When his gaze met hers again, Daisy could feel the heat of his eyes, even across the space that separated them.

“Be right back.” The slam of the inner door came shortly after his words.

Dazed, she stood for a moment, smiling. Then she realized she was wasting precious preparation time. Glancing down at her clothes, she cringed and ran for the stairs. Her usual yoga pants and hoodie did not scream sexy, and she wanted Chris to look at her and not be able to breathe—but in the best, non-life-threatening way, of course.

Skidding around the top of the stairs and dashing into her bedroom, she dug through her dresser drawers.

“Why do I have so many sports bras?” she muttered, slamming one drawer closed and yanking open the next. “Would it be too much to ask to own one thing that's sexy?”

Time was ticking, and Chris would be back knocking on the front door in just seconds, so she gave up on her lingerie treasure hunt. Vowing to do some online shopping as soon as she could, Daisy pulled her hoodie over her head. Her tank top underneath was formfitting, so she was just going to have to be satisfied with that.

When she glanced in the mirror, she bit back a startled shriek. The quick removal of her sweatshirt had charged her hair with enough static to make the strands float around ear level. Her face was red from exertion and nerves, and she pressed her palms to her hot cheeks with a groan as she headed for the bathroom.

A little water and a quick brushing tamed her hair, although there wasn't much she could do about her red cheeks except calm down, which wasn't going to happen anytime soon—not with Chris getting
supplies
. As if the thought had conjured him, she heard his distinctive, aggressive knock. She hurried to the front door, took a second to get herself together, failed at regaining any kind of composure, and pressed the unlock button.

Before she could even take a bracing breath, Chris was inside and had her pressed against the wall in the entry. Her nerves vanished, overtaken by excitement and arousal and sheer happiness as she returned his kiss. Without letting go of each other, they made their way upstairs, tripping on the steps and bouncing off doorframes as they blindly found their way into her bedroom.

Pulling back to yank his shirt over his head, Chris paused with just his abs revealed as he stared over her shoulder.

“What?” she asked, tugging impatiently at the fabric.

“Your window's open.”

She turned to stare at it, unable to believe she'd forgotten. The whole time she'd been frantically searching her underwear selection, there'd been nothing between her and the world except for a flimsy screen. “I know.”

His gaze snapped to her. “Did you open them, or did Fire?”

“I did.”

He searched her face, and then he smiled. “Good for you.”

Although she glowed with pride on the inside, she tried very hard to keep her expression blasé. “Thanks. Now are you going to strip, or what?”

After staring at her for a startled second, he laughed and yanked the shirt over his head. “Happy?”

Her eyes fixed on his chest. In the fading evening light, the shadows and highlights made him look like a piece of artwork. Daisy raised her hand, wanting to touch, but she hesitated before making contact. Losing her nerve, she started to drop her arm to her side, but Chris caught her fingers.

Pressing her palm to his chest, he held it there until she started moving her hand, stroking over the wiry hair and soft skin that covered the muscles beneath. She'd seen him without his shirt before, and she'd wanted to touch so many times. It was hard to believe that she actually had her fingers on Chris now. A laugh escaped as she raised her other hand to join the first.

“What's so funny?” he asked, his smile starting to grow.

“Nothing,” she told his belly button as her fingers traced the grooves between his ab muscles. “I'm just glad we're doing this.”

Skimming his hands up her arms and over her shoulders to cup both sides of her jaw, he tilted her face toward his. Dropping his head, he brushed his lips over hers, connecting with the slightest of pressure. “Me too.” He paused, hovering just over her mouth. “God, you have no idea how glad.”

Her fingers dropped low enough to dip into the waistband of his BDUs, and his teasing ended. With the kiss, he took over her mouth. Forgetting about her plan for cautious exploration, Daisy let her hands mindlessly roam over his sides. He walked her backward, his lips never leaving hers, until her legs bumped against the bed.

The need for oxygen forced her to pull away. As she sucked in air, Chris took the opportunity to peel her tank top over her head and toss it aside. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he kissed her heaving stomach, exploring her so thoroughly that Daisy could tell he was as fascinated by her body as she was by his.

“When we were working out in your gym,” he breathed, following the line of her lowest ribs with just his fingertips and leaving goose bumps in his wake, “I'd catch myself staring at you all the time. I can't believe I actually get to touch you.”

“I know the feeling.” Her voice caught on the last word as Chris used his teeth to scrape against her skin. “Especially when you wear those pants that look like they could slip off your hips at any second. It's hard not to stare.”