Page 19 of Protect My Heart

“Your soul whisper? The new fireman, right?” … “I’m old, darlin’, but I still hear the gossip.”

“You’re not old. And women, young and old, talk about how hot you are.” I shudder. “Not that I want to hear that as your daughter.”

He laughs. Then I hear his phone ping. “Your brother just texted and all of them are back at the firehouse, except the volunteer team who are going to finish it out.”

Relief sags within me and I realize I’m crying.

“I’m happy for you, Daphne. Finding the other half of your heart… well, there’s just nothing in the world like it.”

My heart aches for my dad just as it soars for myself. “Thank you. Maybe your soul will whisper to you again.”

“Nah, it doesn’t work like that. Only two pieces make a whole. But I wouldn’t have traded a moment with your mother.”

We hang up and I hurry through a quick shower, keeping my phone on the back of the toilet in case Fletch calls while I’m in there. I know my dad said they were all safe, but I need to put my eyes on him to know for sure.

By the time I get dressed, he’s still not called, nor has he returned to my house. He’s had plenty of time for both. At the very least a text message.

If he thinks he’s going to make me fall in love with him, rock my world in my bed, then ghost me the next day, he’s got another thing coming to him.

I jam my feet into a pair of flip flops then run down to my car. I barely pay any attention to anything around me as I drive to the firehouse. It’s on the far end of town, a couple of blocks from the main square. I throw my car into park and slam out of it.

There’s a handful of guys washing off one of the trucks.

Then I see a familiar head of blonde hair. “You!” I holler.

He turns around to see me and grins.

“Don’t you smile at me all innocent like that. I woke up alone this morning.”

A chorus of ooohs go up around us. Fletcher leaves the garage bay and walks towards me.

“Then I find out there’s a big fire and you’re in the middle of the action. Did you leave me a note? Of course not. Send me a quick text? Not that either.” I toss my arms up. “Not before you left nor after you returned. And I see you’re recently showered and fresh.” I fist my hips.

His grin just gets bigger, which is infuriating.

“I didn’t want to come back to your house smelling like smoke,” he says.

I stand there glaring at him, willing him to say more. To fight for me. Or at the least, fight with me.

“I did leave a note; it’s stuck to a can of Diet Coke in your fridge because I know you drink that instead of coffee.”

I open my mouth to say something, but he presses a finger against my lips. “Firecracker, you came here all lit and ready to go off, didn’t you?”

I frown at him.

He grips my biceps, gives them a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he says in a quieter voice. “There’s nothing more that I wanted than to wake you up by making you scream my name. We’ll just have to do that tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, you’re so sure of a repeat performance? To be invited back into my bed?”

“Actually, I’d prefer if we moved to my bed because then my feet won’t hang off the end.”

“Firecrackers are dangerous, Fletch,” one of the guys yells.

Fletcher glances over his shoulder to the guys, then back at me. “It’s all right fellas, I’m a trained professional. I’ve got this.” Then he kisses me.

chapter thirteen

Fletcher