Blaze (The Firefighters of Darling Bay Book 1) by Rachael Herron Page B
Authors: Rachael Herron
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forced himself to listen.
“I used glitter glue on her dress, or robe, whatever it is. The thimble was my mother’s, and it reminds me that needles have always been important in our family. After my father died, before she got sick, she took care of both me and my sister as a single mother on just the income she made as a seamstress.”
There was pride in her voice, a stubbornness that drew him to her. He liked it. And recognized it. “What’s the matchbook for?”
She made a murmuring sound in the back of her throat, as if she was trying to decide what, or how much, to tell him. “It’s…to remind me of something.”
“And is that…”
“A piece of chain-link fence? Yeah.” Grace straightened her back. “It is.”
Tox hated it when anyone pushed him, so he wouldn’t do it to her. “I get it.” He accepted the mug of tea from her. “Thank you for this.”
They sat on the red loveseat. She was so dang close that if he moved an inch their legs would tangle. Just one inch, and they’d be touching. He wanted that so much. But she was like a kid who had called 911 after learning about it in school—all jumpy, jangled nerves. If he moved too fast, he thought she might scream, and that would seriously kill his chances of scoring another kiss from that luscious mouth.
Did she really not know how she was affecting him?
Grace drew her legs up and rested the mug on her knee. She sighed and faced forward.
Her body language read as defensive. “Hey, Grace.”
She started. “Yeah?”
“We don’t have to do anything else.”
“What?”
He knew she was only pretending confusion. “I mean it. Yeah, I freakin’ loved making out with you at the beach. You’re so hot I can barely look at you sometimes. You do something to me. And I like it. A whole lot.”
“Oh.” Her voice, again, was small, but that little smile stayed on her face.
“But you’re spooked. And I hope to all heck it’s not me doing that, but if it is, I want to make it clear that all I want from you at this exact moment is this here cup of tea.”
She stared at the wall behind his head, where the nicho hung. She bit her lower lip again. It wasn’t that she was shy—Tox would never have called her that. She was scared of something.
That was fine. As long as it wasn’t him.
“There was this guy.” Grace said. “That’s the matchbook.”
“He was an arsonist?”
“He burned me. The matchbook is to remind me not to let it happen again.”
Tox held out his hands and looked at them. “Sugar, we might have a problem. Because it’s hard for me not to light a match when it’s in my fingers.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Grace made a noise that was between a choke and a cough.
Tox was worried immediately. “How’s your breathing?”
“Fine. I’m fine. It’s just that sometimes you…”
“What?”
“You make me so nervous.” Grace closed her eyes, and Tox stared at the way her long lashes played against her cheeks. “I’ve screwed up so many times before. It’s embarrassing. I’m supposed to be the healthy one, and…”
“Tell me about him. Matchbook guy.” He wanted to hear her secrets, all of them. At the same time, he wanted to keep his. No way would he tell her about his worries that his neck was going to put him out on medical. That he’d lose the job that meant everything to him if he didn’t somehow fix it. That without the job, he was nothing. A nobody. A failure.
Yeah, Tox shouldn’t push her. It wasn’t fair. “I mean, you don’t have to.”
“It’s fine. It’s just that I was with him a long time. Four years. It was my longest relationship.”
“I’ve never made it past two.”
“I hadn’t either, until him. I thought he was the one.”
“Your first real love?”
She shook her head, her hair skimming one eye. It was almost amber in the light of the orange lamp, and for a second Tox imagined
“I used glitter glue on her dress, or robe, whatever it is. The thimble was my mother’s, and it reminds me that needles have always been important in our family. After my father died, before she got sick, she took care of both me and my sister as a single mother on just the income she made as a seamstress.”
There was pride in her voice, a stubbornness that drew him to her. He liked it. And recognized it. “What’s the matchbook for?”
She made a murmuring sound in the back of her throat, as if she was trying to decide what, or how much, to tell him. “It’s…to remind me of something.”
“And is that…”
“A piece of chain-link fence? Yeah.” Grace straightened her back. “It is.”
Tox hated it when anyone pushed him, so he wouldn’t do it to her. “I get it.” He accepted the mug of tea from her. “Thank you for this.”
They sat on the red loveseat. She was so dang close that if he moved an inch their legs would tangle. Just one inch, and they’d be touching. He wanted that so much. But she was like a kid who had called 911 after learning about it in school—all jumpy, jangled nerves. If he moved too fast, he thought she might scream, and that would seriously kill his chances of scoring another kiss from that luscious mouth.
Did she really not know how she was affecting him?
Grace drew her legs up and rested the mug on her knee. She sighed and faced forward.
Her body language read as defensive. “Hey, Grace.”
She started. “Yeah?”
“We don’t have to do anything else.”
“What?”
He knew she was only pretending confusion. “I mean it. Yeah, I freakin’ loved making out with you at the beach. You’re so hot I can barely look at you sometimes. You do something to me. And I like it. A whole lot.”
“Oh.” Her voice, again, was small, but that little smile stayed on her face.
“But you’re spooked. And I hope to all heck it’s not me doing that, but if it is, I want to make it clear that all I want from you at this exact moment is this here cup of tea.”
She stared at the wall behind his head, where the nicho hung. She bit her lower lip again. It wasn’t that she was shy—Tox would never have called her that. She was scared of something.
That was fine. As long as it wasn’t him.
“There was this guy.” Grace said. “That’s the matchbook.”
“He was an arsonist?”
“He burned me. The matchbook is to remind me not to let it happen again.”
Tox held out his hands and looked at them. “Sugar, we might have a problem. Because it’s hard for me not to light a match when it’s in my fingers.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Grace made a noise that was between a choke and a cough.
Tox was worried immediately. “How’s your breathing?”
“Fine. I’m fine. It’s just that sometimes you…”
“What?”
“You make me so nervous.” Grace closed her eyes, and Tox stared at the way her long lashes played against her cheeks. “I’ve screwed up so many times before. It’s embarrassing. I’m supposed to be the healthy one, and…”
“Tell me about him. Matchbook guy.” He wanted to hear her secrets, all of them. At the same time, he wanted to keep his. No way would he tell her about his worries that his neck was going to put him out on medical. That he’d lose the job that meant everything to him if he didn’t somehow fix it. That without the job, he was nothing. A nobody. A failure.
Yeah, Tox shouldn’t push her. It wasn’t fair. “I mean, you don’t have to.”
“It’s fine. It’s just that I was with him a long time. Four years. It was my longest relationship.”
“I’ve never made it past two.”
“I hadn’t either, until him. I thought he was the one.”
“Your first real love?”
She shook her head, her hair skimming one eye. It was almost amber in the light of the orange lamp, and for a second Tox imagined
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