Page 24 of Christmas with Three Firemen

“And I’m trained to investigate arson.”

“Not while inhaling smoke and other unknown fumes. You didn’t even have a ventilator.”

She crosses her arms. “I wasn’t in danger.”

I almost laugh, and not because it’s funny. Because it’s outright absurd.

“Danger doesn’t ask permission before it kills you,” I growl.

Her expression flickers at those words. Briefly, almost imperceptible, and then gone.

“You don’t get to dictate how I do my job, Captain. That’s between me and my direct supervisor.”

Captain.

Fuck, I wish the way she mockingly dangled that honorific in front of me didn’t light a spark inside me.

I rise from the chair.

She tracks the movement, but doesn’t retreat.

I move around the table slowly.

Her eyes, bright with petulance, are an impossible green. Like winter pine beneath fresh snow.

I only halt my approach when I’m close enough to notice the faint freckles scattered across her nose. Close enough to see the pulse fluttering in her throat.

Close enough to know this is definitely another one of those reckless mistakes that I’m going to regret.

“While you’re living in this station, you obey my orders. What happens to you affects my crew and I am responsible for it.”

Her breath catches, but her chin lifts defiantly. It’s both infuriating and enticing.

“I don’t need babysitting.”

“No, but you could use some better judgment.”

Her eyes flash. Unfortunately, I can’t help noticing that anger looks good on her.

“You’re impossible,” she snaps.

“And you’re stubborn.”

She steps closer, eyes narrowing. I hold my ground.

It’s a mistake. She doesn’t back down the way I expect her to. Instead she closes the remaining distance between us like she’s making a point, and then we are simply too close, close enough that I can see the exact shade of green her eyes go when she’s furious, and something in me shifts before I can stop it.

I move before I think. One hand finds the wall beside her head, then the other. She doesn’t flinch. Her back is against the wall and my arms are bracketing her on either side and I am not touching her but the space between us has become its own kind of contact.

Everything goes silent. There are no radios crackling in the distance, no dutiful chatter echoing from the bay, no footsteps shuffling to and fro all over the station.

Nothing but the sound of us breathing. The space between us narrows to inches. Her gaze drops to my mouth, then immediately flicks back up to my eyes.

Merely noticing it is enough to send my blood boiling with something far different than frustration.

For one dangerous second, I want to…

No. Absolutely not.