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To make matters worse, while I look like a wild woman, he’s all gruff and handsome with his dark, arched brows, high cheekbones, and full mouth that quirks on the side in a permanent smirk, dressed in a fireman’s uniform, looking like a wet dream.
“Jillian …” He pauses, shifting his feet as his lips purse and a deep V forms on his brow. “It’s been a long time.”
His comment is enough to snap me out of my haze.
I blink rapidly and shake my head. “Nope. We are not doing this. And by this, I mean, reminiscing. You are going to treat me like I’m the stranger you forced me to be, and we’ll pretend this meet-cute never happened.” I start to walk away and then realize the bastard owes me, so I spin on my heel and march right back and look up into his ridiculously attractive face. “Scratch that. I need you to get me into that building.”
“No chance. I won’t let you risk your life.”
“Then, risk yours.”
A small smile lifts on his face and disappears just as fast. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, starting with why you’re standing outside in nothing but a robe? Are you even wearing anything under that?”
I let out an unrefined growl. “I was in the lobby when the fire alarm went off.”
He lifts a brow and looks down at the ice bucket in his hands. “Naked?”
I grab the bucket from him, albeit forcefully, and clench it tight in my arms. It’s my lifeline and the only thing I own in this moment.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was about to get into the bath when I remembered there was a vending machine down the hall. I really, really wanted a Coke, and wouldn’t it be nice with some ice? I thought I deserved that, you know? A nice cup of ice-cold soda while taking a long soak in a bath after working an eleven-hour wedding sounded like heaven. Should have reconsidered leaving the room in just my robe, but getting dressed merely to walk down the hall was a waste of time. I’m seriously regretting my decision.”
Why I’m sharing these details with this man is beyond me. I suppose it’s easier to talk about soda and ice than tell him I was completely unprepared to see him since he had broken my heart and ruined men for me for the past five years.
“When I stepped into the hallway, the door locked behind me, and I realized I’d forgotten my room key, so I went down to the lobby to get a new one when the fire alarm rang. They wouldn’t let me back upstairs, so that’s why I’m standing in the middle of the street in nothing but a robe with an ice bucket—and I didn’t even get my darn soda!”
I want to slap the amused look off his face. I would, except my hands are busy holding on to the damn bucket and making sure I don’t flash all of Walden.
A woman in a red windbreaker walks by with a tower of plastic bags in her arms. Luke stops her and grabs one off the top of the pile. He pries the plastic off and unravels a dark blue wooly blanket, weaving it over my shoulders and wrapping me in it.
“It’s too cold for you to be standing out here.”
His kind gesture is disarming.
“I wasn’t planning on being outside, half-naked.”
“Well, there’s no way you’re getting back inside for at least a couple of hours—possibly ever. What’s your plan?”
“You speak as if there’s one to be had. I couldn’t even call someone if I had the means. I don’t have a single number memorized, except for my parents’ home phone—and trust me, they’re the last people I want to call right now. Besides, it’s after midnight, and their ringer is definitely off. My business partner, Melissa, is probably awake, but I’m so used to clicking on a name in my Contacts list that I haven’t memorized a number since the year 2004.”
He lifts a shoulder in agreement as he places a hand on my back and gently steers me away from the burning building. “Do you have anywhere to go?”
“I have a car, but my keys are upstairs. I can’t even check into a hotel if I tried. My credit card, money … everything is in my room. And while my personal needs are pretty dire right now, the absolute worst part is, I have a farewell brunch I’m hosting tomorrow and a couple who is counting on me to close out the best weekend of their lives. Now, I won’t be there because I have no clothes, no car, no money, and every contact is currently in a raging inferno.”
I would cry. I should cry. I want to cry. But I don’t.
I am not a woman who sheds tears easily. In fact, I’ve only cried three times in the last decade. The birth of my daughter. The death of my grandmother. And when Luke left me, afraid and alone on the worst day of my life.
“Incendio!” someone shouts, and Luke looks over with a nod but gives his attention back to me.
My pulse beats erratically at the concern in his gaze. It stirs something in my belly, and the thought makes me uncomfortable.
“Jillian, you can’t be outside like this. Let me take you to—”
I hold a hand up and halt that statement. “You know what? I’m good. There’s a restaurant across the street. I’m going to wait there with the other hotel guests until this blows over.”
There’s a hardness to his stare, and his brow furrows with concern. I think he wants to add more to whatever he was going to say but appears to think better of it.
Part of me would love to see him fall to his knees and grovel for the pain he put me through. Another part wishes he’d just walk away.
