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CHAPTER ONE
Libby couldn’t have stopped herself screaming even if she wanted to. It was just all too much. And too freaking ridiculous. So there she stood, under the partition connecting her living room and kitchen, wailing like a banshee.
The purpose of the scream wasn’t to gain attention. Or to freak out her new neighbors. But as the air emptied from her lungs, the thought of what people may think did occur to her. Briefly. Although right now she was much more concerned with all the bruises on her ass from the beating life was giving her.
The nice nine-one-one operator had confirmed the fire department were on their way, thank God. She’d also told Libby to go outside, but Libby had not gone outside. Not yet. She was way too busy having a nervous breakdown.
I’ve only been here one day. One. Day!
She was in a new town, in a new state and it had been a long and tiring week of packing and moving. All she’d wanted was to eat some breakfast in peace. Was that too much to ask?
Yes. It was.
The universe however had other plans. Obviously. Because here she was, flames dancing across her kitchen countertop. All because she’d wanted some toast. Toast! Toast had caused this carnage.
How does a frigging toaster just spontaneously combust?
Was this a thing? How was it possible she’d gone thirty-one years of her life without knowing toasters could just set alight whenever they damn well felt like it?
People should really talk about this. Spread the word far and wide. Beware of the toaster. It may look innocent, but it will burn your house to the ground when you least expect it. Why the hell weren’t more people talking about this?
It was starting to get smoky now. She needed to get herself together. Quick. At least she’d stopped screaming. Well, externally, anyway.
“Get your shit together,” she mumbled before stumbling back into the living area behind her. The front door was just to the left of the main room.
Time to go. Come on, move Libby. Move.
She didn’t move. Her feet were glued to the floor. Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door. Was it a neighbor? Or was it the firefighters? Did firefighters knock?
She clearly didn’t react fast enough because the next thing she knew, a battering ram had made its way into her living room.
As men in uniform descended, she was still yet to move.
“Ma’am, you need to come with me, it’s not safe in here.” As she lifted her head, she realized the man’s fierce blue eyes were directed her way. Boring into her. Oh dear. He did not look happy.
Probably ‘cause you stood here staring at the fire like a freak instead of getting the hell out like the nice lady told you.
Jolting in awareness, she quickly nodded and allowed herself to be led outside by the big, strong man.
Once he’d steered her through the front yard, he gestured for her to sit on the curb. She did so without question, wincing as her bare legs grazed the cool concrete. Internally, she cringed as she looked down at what she was wearing.
They probably see women in pajamas all the time, right? It was morning after all.
Still in a daze, her gaze traveled up the man standing before her, slowly taking in every inch. From his thick thighs struggling to be contained by reflective tan trousers, all the way up to the broad, solid chest, she could have sworn she saw flex. Then he removed his mask and let’s just say, wow.
Holy hell.
He crouched down before her, her eyes never wavering from his. It felt as if everything was in slow motion. If this was a movie, this would be the part where he’d take off the helmet too. And then maybe his shirt.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Libby.
Were all firefighters this gorgeous? Like some kind of weirdo, she actually started to look around, hoping to spot other men in the vicinity she could do a quick comparison with.
“Are you okay, ma’am? Are you looking for someone? Is there someone else in the house we should know about?” Of course his voice was just as hot as his face. Dripping with testosterone. All deep and rumbly.
Down girl. Just ‘cause it’s been forever since you got laid, doesn’t give you an excuse to hump the leg of every good-looking man that comes your way.
“Oh, uh, no. Just me,” she spluttered, as she tried a bit too hard to get the image of her humping his leg out of her head.
