He was in front of me in two big steps and he opened his arms, pulling me against him and cradling me close. His hand rubbed vigorously up and down my arm as I pressed my face into his chest. With his free hand, he dialed his cell phone, speaking to someone and giving them information.
My ears didn’t seem to be working. A weird kind of silence invaded my system, the kind of silence I didn’t want. I pulled back, looking up at Holt. His lips moved, he was speaking, but I couldn’t hear anything he was saying.
My vision began to dim and grow fuzzy.
Holt snapped his fingers directly in front of my face.
My knees began to buckle. He swept me up and walked toward the door, kicking it, and it buckled under his foot and swung open. He strode outside just as my vision went completely dark…
Icy pinpricks began to needle my skin. In seconds, I was completely drenched in water and a loud clap of thunder shook the sky above our heads.
A particular mean drop of rain landed against my tender flesh, the flesh that should have been covered.
I sprang awake. “Argh!” I yelled, tucking my wrists against Holt’s chest.
He looked down at me, his short hair plastered to his head as water dripped off his nose and chin. “Stay with me, Freckles.”
I nodded. “I’m okay now.”
He eyed me skeptically.
“What is it with you and water? First the pool and now the rain,” I cracked, trying to prove to him that I really was okay.
“Works, doesn’t it?” He grinned and I couldn’t help but notice how the rainwater outlined his full lips.
Yep, I was okay.
“Can we go back inside now?” I asked, hating the way my clothes clung to my skin.
“I don’t know. I kind of like the view,” he quipped, staring suggestively at my chest.
My shirt was white.
I was soaked.
My nipples were hard.
Any questions?
Surprisingly, I didn’t move to cover myself. I let him look. Geez, in another couple months I’d be reading erotica if this kept up.
When I didn’t protest to his stare, his eyes flashed to my face and then he turned around and went back inside. “Cops will be here in a few.”
“I should probably call the branch manager.”
Instead of standing me on the floor, he sat me down on top of the wooden desk and faced me. For once, I was eye level with him.
Without thinking, I reached out and brushed away a drop of water that was about to escape his eyebrow and drip into his eye.
His eyes darkened at my touch.
That electricity I was thinking about earlier flared between us. Thank goodness it wasn’t a light because it would have blinded us both.
“Tell me what happened.”
“He was here,” I said, hoarse. “He lit the can on fire and took the extinguisher nearby. I ran to the back to get the other and he pushed one of the shelves over on me.”
The muscles in Holt’s jaw clenched and flexed beneath the stubble that lined his face.
“Do you ever shave?” I wondered out loud.
He smiled and rubbed at the gruffness. “I just trim it.”
I nodded.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
Once again, I touched him, brazenly running my hand along his jaw. It was soft and rough at the same time—the perfect balance. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good to know,” he said, taking my hand, linking our fingers together, and then his face grew serious again.
“Obviously, I avoided the shelf.”
“Did you get a look at his face?” I cringed at the hopefulness in his voice.
“No,” I admitted. “I tried, but he kicked me.”
His eyes went murderous. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
“He. Kicked. You,” he ground out, making each word into a pointed sentence.
This time I kept my mouth shut.
“Where?” he demanded.
I wasn’t going to reply, but his eyes narrowed and I knew he would eventually make me tell him. I was going to have to tell the cops anyway. Weariness floated over me at the thought of enduring yet another one of their hours-long interrogations.
I lifted my wrist, the bandage just dangling from the area now, not covering or protecting a thing.
The waves of hatred that rolled off him made me sincerely glad that all that emotion wasn’t directed at me. He stared at my delicately injured skin (some of it had gotten torn in the struggle and was slick with some sort of puss… Eww, gross), and I kind of thought the top of his head might explode.
I was going to reassure him that I was okay, but the police rushed inside, followed closely behind by a medic with a first aid kit.
“She needs medical attention,” Holt barked, authority ringing through his tone. The medic hurried to comply, slamming down his kit and springing it open. Holt dropped his hand onto the man’s shoulder and squeezed. “Bryant, I don’t even want to see a flick of pain cross her face when you touch her.”
Bryant looked at me and swallowed thickly. “Yes, Chief.”
“Chief?” I said, looking up at Holt.
“I’ll be right back,” he said to me in a much gentler tone and then moved away.
Bryant was fumbling with his supplies, Holt’s words clearly making him nervous. “Relax.” I tried to soothe him. “He’s just on edge about what happened. I’m fine. I promise to smile the whole time you fix me up.”
“But it’s going to hurt,” he blurted apologetically.
“Yeah, I know. Just do it. I’ll be fine.”
That seemed to calm him a little, and he got to work. It did hurt. Incredibly. I felt Holt’s stare and I glanced up, giving him a fake smile. He rolled his eyes and turned back to one of the officers.
“Hey,” I said to the medic. “Why did you call him chief?”
He gave me a quizzical look. “Arkain’s the Wilmington Fire Chief.”
My eyes jerked back to Holt where he stood talking to the police force and the firefighters that responded to the call. His firefighters. “I didn’t realize,” I murmured.
Bryant nodded. “I guess I can understand that. He’s a humble guy. Doesn’t like to throw his position around.”
I made a sound of agreement as he applied something to my wrist that made my entire body jerk. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.
“I’m sorry!” he said a little too loudly. Holt stiffened and he turned, looking at me over his shoulder.
I blinked back the tears that flooded my eyes and waved at him with my free hand.