“But instead you called the fire department.”
“Apparently.” She winced. “I really am sorry.”
“You’re not the first,” I said, and that was technically true. “But you might be the most entertaining.”
She smiled again, her eyes scanning my face. “Are you really a firefighter? You look like you belong in one of those calendars.”
“I am a firefighter,” I said, clearing my throat, “and no, I’ve never posed for a calendar.”
“Shame.” Her eyelids drooped slightly, but her smile didn’t fade. “That would’ve made one hell of a pizza delivery fantasy.”
Heat rose up the back of my neck. I stood quickly, more flustered than I wanted to admit.
“You should eat something,” I said. “Sober up a little more.”
“I know. I’m just…still a little floaty.”
“I can make something,” I offered, shocking myself.
She blinked. “Seriously?”
“I’m not a gourmet, but I can see what ingredients you have and fire something up.”
She bit her lip. “That sounds amazing.”
“Alright.” I started toward the kitchen, then paused. “You, uh…you good staying on your side like that?”
She nodded. “Recovery position. I know it from CPR class. You’re good.”
“Just making sure.”
I lingered for a second longer than necessary, then made myself step away. Her voice followed me into the kitchen.
“I didn’t drink growing up,” she said. “My parents were strict. Super religious. Alcohol was, like, the root of all evil.”
I turned, leaning against the counter. “So tonight was your first?”
“Pretty much. I had a sip of champagne once at a wedding, but this was the first time I made a real drink and tried to enjoy it.”
“How’d that go for you?”
She smirked. “I got rescued by a hot firefighter, so I’d say…mixed results.”
I chuckled under my breath and turned toward the fridge, finding bread, plus unexpired cheese and butter, in a neat little row. Everything I needed. But even as I opened the skillet and got to work, my mind wasn’t on the sandwich. It was on the woman in the other room.
Camille.
Camille with the bright green eyes, the soft skin, the voice that somehow got under my skin in the span of a two-minute emergency call. She’d scared the hell out of me tonight, and now she was making me feel things I hadn’t let myself feel in a long damn time. Maybe this wasn’t just a wellness check.
Maybe this was something else entirely.
3
CAMILLE
Either it was the storm, the company, or this was the best grilled cheese sandwich anyone had ever made.
“Pepper jack cheese was all they had,” the firefighter, who’d introduced himself as Scoop, said after swallowing the generous bite he’d taken. “I’m kind of glad it turned out that way.”
