Page 41 of My Favorite Hero

“How did you get out?” I asked, dinner forgotten, my heart beating hard.

“I went up to the attic—kicked out the window. They swung the ladder close enough I could grab it.” He heaved a sigh. “I was off for a bit. I had broken some ribs and my leg.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even notice the pain until I hit the ground and was safe.”

“Oh my God.”

“Not long after, I decided the big city wasn’t for me anymore, and I transferred here when a posting came up.” He shrugged. “Still dangerous, but maybe not as much.”

“Jesse,” I whispered.

Our eyes met and held. The air between us was heavy. Serious. Far too intense. I felt a draw to him like a magnet. The urge to pull him toward me and kiss away the frown line on his forehead was strong. Kiss his full mouth until he forgot about what he’d told me and let nature take over was potent.

But he cleared his throat, withdrawing his hand. “Good move on my part. Never had pot roast like this before.”

I forced a laugh. “Eat it while you can. I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

He looked thoughtful. “Lou mentioned she thought you’d stay a year. Why only a year? You plan on buying your own place?”

“No. I don’t…stay places long,” I replied, not wanting to get into it.

“I see.”

“Don’t worry, Thorne. I’ll make sure you get pot roast again.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

We talked about various subjects. Nothing overly personal, although we shared a few tidbits. He talked about going through fire training and never once wavering that being a firefighter was what he wanted to do. I told him how I got into computers at school and spent every moment I could learning how they worked. Understanding code. He asked a lot of questions about it, and I answered as best I could. It was a safe subject for both of us as we slowly got to know each other.

After three plates of pot roast, Jesse sat back, looking satisfied. “I was starving.”

“I noticed.” I stood and carried the dishes to the counter. Jesse picked up the glasses, handing them to me. I filled the sink, the bubbles frothing up in the hot water.

“It was one of those shifts. I kept missing meals, or we’d get interrupted just as we sat down. I ate a lot of sandwiches the last few days.” He leaned against the counter and side-eyed me seriously. “I certainly didn’t get the lasagna you dropped off.”

I chuckled. “I may have some in the fridge.”

“I’ll take it.”

“I didn’t mean that as an offer.”

He grinned, looking boyish as he grabbed a dish towel and started drying. “You want your wind chimes up tomorrow? I’ll need sustenance.”

I laughed. “I see.”

“You wouldn’t want me weak and dizzy on the ladder, would you—” he hip checked me “—Pixie?”

My eyes went round, and I gaped at him. “How did you know that?”

“Lou used to talk about Pixie. Martha called you that when I was talking to her today. I realized that Pixie and Casey were the same person.” He winked. “It suits you.”

I waved my hand, bubbles flying in the air. “It did when I was little. I was very short.”

“Not much has changed.”

I turned to him, glaring. “I’m five foot three,” I retorted, indignant.

“I’m six three—a foot taller. And I must outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds. Pixie still works.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Thorne.”