Page 28 of Burn Protocol

I swallow hard and take a step back. My throat bobs as I try to casually offer her my arm.

“Shall we?” I croak and swallow again.

Her blue eyes stay on mine. Her lips part but no words come out. She closes her mouth again, smiles weakly, and then nods as she steps out of her apartment. My gaze drops to her legs before I can stop myself. Focus, Gonzales! My jaw ticks as I whip my head to the side. But her hand slips around my elbow and when I look back, she looks up at me with those big, sparkling eyes. Fuck.

***

“You have to admit it. This is some of the best tapas there are in this city. The flavors just hit the spot. And each dish has a unique taste. Like, none of that blended stuff that you get with those fast-food tapas places, you know? It’s quality, and you know it.”

Maya is rambling. Her face is flushed from wine. I don’t even try to suppress the grin anymore. She has been so alive all evening. It does something to me. Odd. She makes me think. Makes me stop and feel. I am not used to that.

But you like it. Yeah, I do.

“It’s acceptable,” I jab. Just to see her get riled up.

“Acceptable? El, you are kidding me, right? Please tell me you are kidding? If this is ‘acceptable’ to you,” she goes on using her fingers for air quotes, “then the other place must be magical, because this is one of the best places I’ve ever eaten in the world. But I think I know what this is…” I pause to look at her and smirk. “You are just scared to admit you were wrong, aren’t you?”

She leans forward, her eyes finding mine. There is something behind that gaze. I can’t name it. Not yet. I huff and shrug.

“I don’t make mistakes.”

She rolls her eyes and I can’t help but laugh. Hers follows immediately. Light and melodious. Like rain on a spring mor— What the fuck, Elena? You’re a poet now? Get a grip!

“The food is good,” I answer sincerely. “But I am not sure if it is better than Bodega Biarritz.”

“I guess we’ll find out next week, right?”

Her smile is bright. I chuckle and nod.

“I guess we will.”

A strand of her hair falls loose and my hand twitches at my side. I almost reach out to brush it behind her ear. Almost. But her hand already moves there and her laughter turns into a smile, her eyes still on me.

“Can I ask you something?” Her voice comes out tentatively.

I frown but nod. Who asks if they can ask a question? She is a reporter, for crying out loud.

“When did you first know you wanted to be a firefighter?”

My frown deepens. I wasn’t expecting this. Not here, not now. You are just a job to her, Gonzales. My jaw clenches and I exhale through my nose. I nod once as I briefly close my eyes. After another sip of wine, I lean back and look at her.

“When I was five. My brother found a lighter and set a newspaper on fire in the backyard. It almost spread to the bushes. My mother says she found me stomping out the flames. They’ve called me Pequeña bombera ever since.”

Maya’s eyes soften and her lips curl up. She looks so damn gorgeous that it makes my breath hitch. Elena, she asked you about this because it’s her job, you idiot.

“Pequeña bombera, I like that. It suits you.”

“Is that so?” I smirk while quirking an eyebrow. “I am a head taller than you.”

She snorts, nearly spraying the wine over the table. I can’t help but laugh. Even if it’s just work, I might as well enjoy it. She hiccups and holds up her hands.

“No, I mean, I can see you as a little Elena, taking charge of the situation with a very determined face. I bet you were very serious as a child, no?”

Her eyebrow lifts. She is entertained. By me. The thought of little me.

“You think I am serious?” The slight tremor in my voice betrays me.

“Well, when it comes to your job, yes. But it would be concerning if you weren’t, right? And to be fair, when it comes to my work, I am too.”