Free Burning Ambition by Amy Knupp

jaw, the tight control of her voice.
    “I talked to him enough before you got here to suspect something like this could happen.”
    “You were just waiting to come to the rescue, weren’t you?” Faith looked down at her dad and shook her head. Her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I guess we do need a little assistance.”
    “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get him out of here. Come on, Chief.” Joe leaned down and roused him.
    The big guy muttered something and Faith avoided Joe’s gaze. The urge to touch her, to try to make her feel better, rolled through him out of nowhere.
    He bent over to prop up the chief, burying his mind in the task and attempting to ignore Faith. She got into position on the other side, and together they pulled him upright. Chief Peligni came to long enough to ask where the hell they were taking him and to complain about how fast they were moving.
    “To my 4Runner over there,” Joe told Faith, indicating the vehicle with a nod. “It’s close.” When they got to the passenger side, she opened the door and they awkwardly heaved him inside.
    Once the door was shut, Joe locked it. He and Faith looked at each other as they caught their breath.
    “Want to follow me?” she asked.
    He nodded, recalling from previous visits the flight of stairs they’d have to drag the chief up once they got him home. “I’ll drive you back here to get his truck once we get him settled.” He searched until he spotted the chief’s Suburban at the end of the row.
    Faith shot a frown toward her dad and bit her lower lip before heading toward her car, parked at the curb.
    Joe went around to the driver’s side of his SUV. He paused before getting in and watched her walk away. Let himself admire her curves in those tiny shorts and the yellow fitted tank top. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was dressed for relaxing, not for impressing, and still his heart thundered in appreciation.
    He glanced guiltily at Chief Peligni and climbed in, making a point of not checking out the chief’s daughter again. Not that the older man had even noticed; his head was propped against the window, eyes closed. Joe reached across, drew the seat belt over him, pulled it out as far as it would go and fastened it. He could just about get drunk off the fumes coming from the passenger seat.
    While Faith was careful and deliberate with just about everything she did, she apparently didn’t drive the same way, speeding off like a maniac. Joe had been to the chief’s house before for cookouts, so he took his time getting there. When he pulled up, her car was in the driveway and she was leaning against the wall of the garage, arms crossed. She gestured for him to drive up close to the open garage door.
    After fifteen or twenty minutes, they’d managed to get the chief up the flight of stairs, into his bed, shoes off, with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the nightstand. He’d been half-awake for part of it, but Joe doubted he’d remember any of this in the morning. Joe wasn’t sure the man would be able to get up in the morning.
    Faith drew a crocheted blanket over him, since they hadn’t had a chance to pull the covers back before laying him down. When she finished, she exhaled tiredly and nodded at Joe. Together they walked down the hall toward the living room.
    When they reached the last door on the right, Faith went into the room, flipping on the light. Her bedroom, he realized, as he peered in like a Peeping Tom.
    “I can wait outside,” he said.
    “Just a sec. I need a sweatshirt, but there’s something for you in the kitchen.”
    Curious, he stood there in the doorway, trying not to watch her every move as she searched through the drawers of an antique-looking white dresser. Instead, he took in the details of her room, still feeling somewhat like a voyeur, but unable to resist.
    The room was…shockingly pink. Her bed was un-made, but there were lacy white ruffles around the bottom of the mattress