Free Playing With Fire by Gail Anderson-Dargatz Page A

too.
    I’d always had hunches, but I kept them to myself. I often followed that gut feeling to the scene of an accident. That’s how I ended up standing up Trevor so often. I would be on my way to a date with him and would know someone was in trouble. Like last night. I had felt driven to help Amber.
    “I am sorry about last night,” I told Trevor.
    He brushed my hair off my shoulder. “Maybe you can make it up to me later.”
    “Knock, knock.” I turned to see Matt Holden standing at the door to our office. He paused, taking in Trevor’s hand still on my shoulder. Then he offered me a coffee.
    “I kept you up most of the night,” he said. “I figured the least I could do was bring you coffee.” I got the impression he was talking as much to Trevor as to me. He was telling Trevor to back off, that I was his girl.
    Trevor ran a thumb across his manly chin. “Claire missed her date with me last night because of you,” he said. “Seems to me you owe me a little something.”
    Matt faced Trevor. “Well, maybe there was a reason she chose to spend the night with me instead of you,” he said.
    Both men were so tall I had to look up at them. I found myself between them as they stared each other down. I have to admit, their attention was thrilling. I’d never had two men fight over me before.
    “Okay, boys,” said Carol. “Take it outside. We’ve got work to do.”
    In the near distance, I heard the wail of the firehouse siren, calling the volunteer firefighters. “Shit,” said Trevor. “Sounds like I’ve definitely got work to do.”
    Trevor gave my arm a squeeze before he pushed past Matt. Carol and I watched him swagger out the door.
    Matt cleared his throat to get my attention. “I guess I’d better get going too,” he said. He took my hand. “I would like to see you again,” he told me.
    “I’d like that too.”
    “Maybe dinner tomorrow night?”
    “Dinner would be great.”
    “I’ll call you later.” He paused before leaving. “You aren’t going to stand me up, are you?” he asked.
    I laughed. “No, I won’t stand you up.”
    “Good.”
    “Matt’s cute,” said Carol after he left.
    “Rugged,” I said. “Not cute.” With his day-old beard, I could picture Matt in a log cabin. He was comfortable in the wild. As the search-and-rescue manager, he had to be. Our town was surrounded by mountain forest.
    Carol eyed me. “Trevor is cute too.”
    I collapsed into my office chair, exhausted. “What are you getting at, Carol?”
    “You will have to make a choice, you know.”
    I rubbed my forehead. “I just want to get to know them both a little better first.”
    “Matt is more mature,” Carol said. She played with a curl of her perm. “But then, Trevor has really big feet.” She was right. Trevor wore size thirteen boots.
    “So?” I asked.
    “You know what they say about men with big feet.” She winked at me. “Men with big feet have really big—”
    “Egos,” I said, finishing her sentence. “I think Trevor likes being a firefighter, maybe a little too much.”
    “Of course he does,” she said. “ You like that he’s a firefighter.” Then she gave me a stern look. “Speaking of firefighters, don’t you have somewhere to go?”
    “Bed?” I said.
    “The fire?” she asked.
    “Of course. Sorry. I’m so tired I’m not thinking straight.” I grabbed one of the office cameras. Then I jumped in my car and followed the smoke to the fire.

TWO
    T he shed behind the garden and pet store was on fire. The wooden building had housed hay bales and bags of feed. All that dry material fed the fire. Now the roof was aflame.
    I took photos of the firemen as they sprayed water with the fire-truck hoses. I admit I took more pictures of Trevor than of the rest of the crew. I emailed several of the best shots to my editor, using my smartphone as a hotspot.
    As the firemen put out the last of the flames, the crowd cheered. I clapped too. Trevor tugged the rim of his helmet at me.