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“In the aftermath of the California wildfires one year, they noted the same phenomenon, the spalling and glazing. They knew for certain no arson was involved. So on one hand, that made our job even harder, because proving arson is tough already. A lot of our evidence gets burned away. On the plus side, we’re not sending someone to jail who’s innocent.”
“Hunh.” Chocolate melted on her tongue as he spoke. She watched him take small bites of the dessert. Smaller than hers. He was letting her have more of it. It was the little things a man did that could capture a woman’s heart.
“You also have to watch the chemical makeup of accelerants,” he continued. She suppressed a smile. Definitely the biggest nerd. “Like diesel fuel and lemon furniture polish. They have very similar elements. If your mom’s house caught on fire, I wouldn’t want to send her to jail because she uses Pledge to clean the furniture.”
Les scraped the remaining crust off the plate. It was really good pie. “Medicine has pitfalls like that, too. Sheila, a girl in my study group, is doing her ER rotation. A mother brought in a baby with a cold who ‘just didn’t seem okay.’ Sheila didn’t see anything, and thought the mother was being overly protective. She was going to discharge her, but the resident looked at the baby and asked the mom if she’d given her any home remedies.”
She’d intended to offer a similar story of academic interest, but as she paused, the subconscious anxiety that liked to coil up in her stomach like a rusty piece of barbed wire tightened. Her own ER rotation was soon.
Aware that Brick’s gaze had sharpened on her, she pushed past that, continuing in an even tone. “The mother was giving the baby honey. When they’re under a year old, babies don’t have the gut bacteria that can prevent harmful bacteria from infecting them. She had botulism.”
“Shit.”
She nodded. “The baby was already experiencing respiratory symptoms and lethargy, which fit with a cold. But because of the mother’s intuition that something was off, and that key question, they gave her the right treatment.”
He frowned. “It seems like there’s a fine line. You can’t overlook anything, but you also can’t second-guess yourself into inertia.”
“Yeah.” But she was really dreading that ER rotation.
Their food arrived. That anxiety had draped itself over the pie in her stomach, warning her not to put anything on top of it. It was the real reason she’d lost weight, but no way was she passing up something this close to her mother’s cooking. She just had to take it slow. “Oh my God. It smells amazing.”
Brick’s gaze rested on her face, her parted lips. “Wait until you actually put it in your mouth.”
Christ on a waffle. Yes, he had an effect on her, but it seemed absurdly juvenile to put a sexual spin on an innocuous food comment. It was his own fault, though. When he’d licked that chocolate, the vision of taking his hand, putting her mouth on the side of his thumb to suck the chocolate off, had been impossible to block.
She wasn’t nearly as experienced as the version of herself she was when she fantasized about him. If she tried to do something like that, she would look ridiculous. Especially in Brenda’s diner. But as Les kept her eyes pinned on the food, she was terrified he’d see what she was thinking about.
Being on her knees, her mouth sliding along his thigh, over to a very thick, erect cock, tasting the salt of it like the salt in this country steak.
Her friends didn’t fantasize about giving their boyfriends oral sex. They didn’t get a visceral thrill, a little shiver and tightening of the thighs, at the idea of serving a dominant male, working his cock in her mouth as he pushed her down on it with strong hands. His demanding, dirty orders falling upon her bare shoulders like a heated release against her bare back, his hand clamped on her nape.
She swallowed the first small bite with a gulp of tea. “I’m going to have to avoid this place,” she said. “Or I’ll gain a hundred pounds.”
“You’ve got a ways to go on that.” He was watching her eat with those thoughtful, penetrating eyes. She hoped he’d attribute her flushed cheeks to the restaurant temperature. “Third year’s pretty demanding, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess so. But a lot of things start coming together and making sense.” Even as they overwhelmed. “When do you go back?” she asked.
“It’s a two-day class. Tomorrow they’re covering wildfires, helicoptering us up into the mountains for some practice burns. Then I’m due back in Richmond for work.” He’d ordered the meatloaf, and gazed at it appreciatively. “A ketchup topping, just the way it’s supposed to be made. None of that brown gravy shit.”
“Amen.” She took another bite of the steak. “It was nice of you to come by, with all that going on.”
He set down the fork, crossing his arms on the table behind his plate. The stare he leveled at her had her fighting not to squirm. Her cheeks warmed again. The reason for the blush should have been different, but the sexual hum beneath was hard to ignore.
The temptation to blurt “What?” or otherwise cover what she’d just done was there, but something about that look pointed her toward the only appropriate response.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
After a protracted pause, he nodded. “I’m patient. But don’t do that again.”
The implied threat made those tingles run through her thighs and down to her feet. “I’m off balance here, Brick. It makes me nervous.”
“That’s okay. I get that. But that’s how I want you to communicate about it. No evasion, or doublespeak bullshit. All right?”
He picked up his fork and began to eat, even as he shifted back into the flow of the conversation. “So your ER rotation is worrying you.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You’re a systematic thinker. You like to have time to gather and analyze data. The ER requires pretty quick decisions. You won’t be comfortable with that at first. It’ll probably scare the shit out of you. But the more you do it, the more experience you accumulate, the better you’ll get at it. Like anything.”
