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I sigh, pushing my feelings down for the thousandth time. I’m here to do a job.
Charity turns, a frown neatly etched over her beautiful features. There’s something wrong with the Christmas tree.She wriggles underneath, and my gaze is drawn to her heart-shaped jean-clad ass in the air. With her blonde hair and angelic blue eyes, she looks like she tumbled from the top of that Christmas tree.
She reappears and snaps the clips holding the tree in place to her T-shirt before pulling the old tree toward the back of the stage. Unbeknownst to her, the lights are plugged into an overloaded socket. I call out a warning, and my feet are alreadymoving toward her when an almighty bang follows a spark and a flash.
I leap at Charity as she flies backward from the tree, grasping onto her as she’s thrust into me. The tree goes up in flames, stinking of burning plastic and years of dust as the decorations melt away to nothing but a vague memory.
A smoke alarm shrieks, and the sound of a fire extinguisher assaults my ears as puffs of white powder are sprayed over the tree.
I glance down at Charity, and my heart seizes when I see she’s unconscious.
Jackson curses once he’s successfully put out the fire. “These old trees are a fucking death trap.” He casts a concerned look at Charity. “Is she okay?”
I check her pulse and breathing to find both are steady and rhythmic, but she has a nasty burn on her hand. Without acknowledging Jackson, I lift Charity and carry her from the stage, heading straight for the medic’s trailer.
Max Sawyer, the set medic, looks up in surprise as I barge through the door with Charity in my arms and set her gently on the examination table.
Charity groans, and her eyes pop open. “Ryder?” She tries to sit up, but I push her down firmly.
“What happened?” Max asks, moving next to Charity. She pulls on a pair of examination gloves and begins to check her over with brusque expertise, assessing the burn on her hand.
“She electrocuted herself,” I say grimly, fury replacing my fear now I know Charity’s not mortally wounded. “This place is a goddamn health and safety hazard.”
Charity reaches for my hand with her good one and gently squeezes it. “It was my fault. Stupid mistake. I didn’t realize the tree was still plugged in.”
She hisses as Max cleans and dresses the burn on her hand, and I touch her cheek gently. “I got you, Sparkles.”
“Sparkles?” Max raises an eyebrow as she removes her gloves.
“Old nickname,” Charity says softly.
“Strange,” Max observes, her mouth twitching.
“Her brother decided to turn her into a Christmas decoration when she was nine by covering her in glitter,” I explain, a smile pulling at my mouth at the memory.
“I was still finding bits of glitter two weeks later,” Charity says with a roll of her eyes.
Max chuckles. “Kids will be kids, I guess.”
Charity shakes her head. “Oh, Luke wasn’t a kid. He was nineteen.” She pauses and smiles wistfully. “He was always doing goofy stuff like that.”
“Well, I would say the nickname is even more appropriate now you’ve been electrocuted by a Christmas tree,” Max sniggers. “You don’t have much luck, huh? I’m surprised your hair isn’t standing on end.”
Charity touches her hair as if to check. “God, I’ve been on set for two hours and already caused chaos.” She pauses and looks at me. “The tree? Is it . . .?
“A pile of melted plastic? Yep. But better the tree than you,” I say gruffly, still recovering from seeing her fly across the room.Jesus,she scared me.
Tears well in Charity’s eyes as Max fastens a blood pressure cuff around her arm. “I need to find a new tree in”—she lifts her arm to look at her watch—"less than an hour.”
Max shakes her head. “What you need is to get checked out at the hospital. I don’t think there’s any lasting damage, but your blood pressure is elevated, and I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
CHARITY
“I can’t go to the hospital. I don’t have time.” I stand, only a little woozy from being zapped, and try to move away from Ryder.
Being near him lights me up like the bolt of electricity I just received, only in a far more pleasurable way. The pull he has over me is faintly scary. I have zero experience with men, but the tightening of my nipples and the ache between my thighs are constant side effects of being in Ryder’s proximity. Not that he’s ever shown any indication he feels the same. He’s never shown any interest in me as a woman—or in any woman—since the stunt his ex-fiancée pulled on him.
“Come on,” he says, placing a hand beneath my elbow to steady me.
