Free Blaze (The Firefighters of Darling Bay Book 1) by Rachael Herron Page B

that’s a very firefighter-like thing to say.” 
    Tox’s green eyes went darker, the color of the water at the edge of the foam. “Just a nickname.” 
    “Like Tox?”
    “Worse. Some people…It just seems like bad stuff happens around me, that’s all. If a call’s going to go south, I’m usually either there or on my way to it.” 
    “Huh. But you’re a helper. You help. That’s your job.” 
    “Same as you. That’s what we do, right?” 
    “Well.” She shrugged. “It’s just easier to take care of people that not to.” 
    “I think that’s your crazy.” 
    “Taking care of people?” She pointed at the dog, still straining on her leash. “Number one, pot, meet kettle. And number two, that’s not such a bad problem to have.” She had to change the subject. This was too much, too intimate. It was embarrassing. “What are you going to name her?” 
    “I’m not sure.” 
    “What’s in the running?” 
    He shortened the leash as an errant wave threatened to drench the puppy. “I like Loki.” 
    “No!” 
    “Why not?” 
    “She’s a girl! And Loki was the god of destruction. It’s like naming your kid Damien. You get what you deserve.” 
    “Okay. Then Appaloosa.” 
    “That’s the opposite of Loki, I guess, but that’s so long. And wouldn’t you shorten it to Loose? Then she’d be guaranteed to be pregnant before she even graduates her first training class.” 
    “Methyl.” 
    “Excuse me?”
    He slowed his pace, and then stopped, slapping his thigh. The dog came running. Heck, Grace wanted to, too. “It’s a hazmat thing.” 
    “It’s short for some chemical?” 
    “Kind of. It’s slang for Methyl-ethyl bad stuff. Only…we don’t normally say the word stuff.” 
    “Ah.” 
    “You know the rule of thumb for methyl-ethyl bad stuff?” 
    Grace shook her head. His voice was teasing again, and she liked the way it sounded. Rough and happy. 
    He held up a fist, his thumb up, holding his arm out straight toward the horizon. “Imagine there’s an explosion out there, way out at sea.” 
    She squinted. “Okay.” 
    “You want to stay far enough away from the methyl-ethyl bad stuff that when you hold up your hand like this, your thumb covers it up.” He looked at her, and then, to her surprise, he put his arm around her waist and drew her against his chest. “It’s pretty technical.” 
    “I can tell,” she laughed, breathless. “You must have gone to school a long time for that.” 
    “I put in at least six hours of training. Can I kiss you now?” 
    “Again?” she teased, her heart racing. “Didn’t you do that once already?” 
    He smiled. “And it’s all I’ve been able to think about doing ever since.”
    She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him. 
    Grace thought it would be a light kiss, like the moment. A sweet kiss. On the beach, in the sunset, in a handsome firefighter’s arms, what could be nicer? 
    But the kiss wasn’t nice. Or, at least, it wasn’t for long. His mouth, soft at first, soon blazed against hers. His heat stunned her, lighting every cell in her body on fire. His tongue was firm, direct, sure. He tasted like mint and something darker. His hands held her close, tightly, so that she could feel his arousal. He said her name against her kiss, so that the wind tore it away. 
    Oh, sweet peaches. She swallowed her gasp and then turned so that she could look out at the ocean, hoping to catch her breath. To draw herself back in line. No man should affect her like this. She felt thrown, off kilter. It was a foreign feeling, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. 
    “I thought you were supposed to put out fires.” She couldn’t look at him. “Not start them.” 
    His lips were at her ear. “I’m an arsonist when it comes to you.” 
    Grace wheeled, pulling from his arms. “That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.” She pointed at the pier ahead of them. “Are we headed back there to eat?” 
    “Yep.” 
    “Race