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The shrill ring of the station phone jolted me from my introspection. I pushed aside the mound of paperwork on my desk and grabbed my phone.
“Silverpaw Hollow Fire Station, this is Amber,” I answered briskly.
“Hey there, hot stuff,” Emmett's gravelly voice purred in my ear. Instantly, the fog in my brain cleared. “Busy saving the world again today?”
“Oh, you know. Putting out fires, rescuing kittens from trees, being an all-around badass.”
Emmett chuckled, the sound sending a pleasant tingle through me. “Sounds like an average day.”
I leaned back in my chair, reports forgotten, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“What, I can't call just to hear your beautiful voice?” He was laying it on thick today. “But seriously, how are you holding up? It's been nonstop since the wildfires started.”
The fires. Right. Whenever I spoke with Emmett, the rest of the world seemed to fall away. I sighed, touched by his concern. “I'm all right. Exhausted, but we're making progress. The east valley blaze is nearly contained.”
It had been a week since our not-date was interrupted by the fire, and Emmett had called almost daily to check in. I’d begun to look forward to hearing his deep, rumbly voice. We’d tackled three more fires in that time, and the urgency to find the perpetrator was growing.
Whoever was causing destruction to the surrounding forest needed to be caught, and soon. Why anyone would want to raze this beautiful landscape to the ground was beyond me.
Not to mention, I had the chief breathing down my neck for answers.
The now-familiar pang of guilt clutched my stomach. Being secretive wasn’t in my nature. I hated that the chief had put me in the position of finding out more about the Furbanes because if one thing had become clear over the last week, it was that the fires had nothing to do with the family.
I knew it in my gut, even if Emmett hadn’t proved it in his single-minded determination to help with every fire since I’d met him. Like my team, he’d worked tirelessly and to near exhaustion to tame the devastating flames.
“That's my girl,” Emmett said proudly. “You've been kicking those fires' asses.”
My girl.
At twenty-six, I was far from a girl, but why did that sound so good? And why did heat rush to my cheeks at the pride in his voice?
“Not only me,” I said huskily. “It’s a team effort, but the damage would’ve been far worse if not for you and your brothers. Your knowledge and help have been invaluable.”
“Meh. My brothers helped a little, I guess,” he joked. “But you should know that I’m the eldest, which naturally makes me the best catch as the alpha male. Big, strong, virile–”
“Likes fluffy pink bears,” I cut in, grinning.
I’d also learned Emmett and his brothers were the founders of Guardians MC, a motorcycle club that looked after the town and its residents. He’d turned up to a fire on his motorcycle a few days ago, and once I’d recovered from the knee-melting sight of him in his leather cut, I’d almost laughed myself silly at the small, pink stuffed bear zip-tied to the back of his ride.
“Hey, don’t insult Bessie Bear,” Emmett huffed, sounding miffed. “She’s my good luck charm.”
“Bessie Bear?” I smothered a laugh. “You named your teddy Bessie Bear?”
“I can see I’m gonna have trouble with you, Wildflower,” he growled. “Lucky for you, I eat trouble for breakfast.”
Oh, God. I squeezed my legs together on the mental images his words instigated. Emmett’s head buried between my thighs as he ate me for breakfast.
And he’d called me Wildflower. His endearment reminded me of our electrifying kiss a week ago. Nothing else had happened since, and that was fine with me. Yep, totally fine. I didn’t yearn for his mouth on mine again, making me forget everything but his touch, his taste, his delicious scent. Nope.
Who are you trying to kid? My rebellious heart demanded.
Flustered, I steered the conversation to inconsequential things—the weather, weekend plans, his latest woodworking projects.
Emmett was so easy to talk to and had a great sense of humor. With each quip, my smile grew wider. Something had shifted between us after that kiss. We’d come to know and trust each other over the last week as we’d worked together to contain the fires.
Our playful flirtation now held a subtle hint of genuine affection. Emmett’s playful charm soothed my spirit in a way nothing else could.
“You know,” I murmured, deciding to be brave, “you still owe me a drink, considering our not-a-date was interrupted last week.”
