Firestorm - Ellie Masters Page 0,20

on this fire.” I know what he said, but I respect fire and I’m not convinced we have control of the blaze.

“We’re cutting firebreaks downhill as we go. You should be good.” He repeats the coordinates, which I write down on my scratchboard. Familiar with the local area, I have a good idea where Smokey is sending me.

I turn to the girl.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“I told you, I can’t walk.”

“You’re not going to walk, honey. You’re going to ride me.” I flash her a grin, implying the double entendre and search her expression for any interest.

She stares at me, then her eyes widen when it hits. Taking a step back, she cries out as she inadvertently places weight on her bad foot.

I reach for her. “Easy! I’ve got you.”

But she jerks out of my grip.

I don’t have time for this shit and pinch the bridge of my nose. After signing out with Smokey, I grab the length of rope strapped to the webbing at my belt.

“I mean, I’ll carry you on my back—like a backpack.”

7

Evelyn

Either from the rock that asshole hit me in the head with, or from smacking my head on the way down the hill, I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating. Or maybe the universe is apologizing for dealing me such a shit hand lately.

Naw, I’m delirious.

I must be, because my rescuer is drop dead gorgeous. Kitted out in firefighter gear, soot smears across his face, dirt clings to every square inch of him, a yellow helmet sits on top his head, and all I can do is stare, slack jawed, eyes wide, with a flutter in my belly, and licks of pleasure tickling me in my lady bits.

I’m serious.

Nobody looks this good.

He’s every woman’s wet dream, or mine at least if that tingling between my legs is any indication.

When I go to bed, hoping for a little nighttime fantasy, he’s what I imagine. A man with mussed up hair, the darker the better, raven-colored is best, and arresting forest green eyes that steal my breath. His eyes are so vividly green they practically glow.

They’re mesmerizing.

I lick my lips for what feels like the millionth time, because I’m terribly afraid I’m drooling. He’s sexy in so many ways, and I’m not even going to start with the whole rough and rugged, Hey-I’m-your-rescuer obvious kind of crap.

Hell, he can rescue me all damn day.

It’s not that he’s perfect. The man has flaws, but it’s in the grit of his perfection where he shines. Every time he looks at me, those magnetic eyes pin me down. He said something about riding him and my mind went to the filthiest place. I’m so far down the gutter, there’s no escape.

Fortunately, he appears to be oblivious to my gaping mouth as he measures out his rope.

Or is he?

I swear my rugged stranger’s oh-so-expressive face transforms into an impish grin.

And he has dimples.

Just kill me now.

I bet he knows I imagined riding him just like he said.

I’m a total fool and acting like a star-struck teen, not caring we’re in the middle of a raging inferno. I’m ready to climb his towering form, wrap my legs around his hips, and ride him through dawn.

Holy mother of God, it just got hot down here, and I’m a little out of breath.

Actually, I’m a lot out of breath. I can’t breathe deeply enough and I’m a bit dizzy.

“Hello?” He snaps his fingers in front of my face.

“Excuse me?”

“I asked what your name was?”

I totally missed his question.

My cheeks heat with a sudden flush of shame.

“Um…”

“Um…you don’t know your name? Or um…you got knocked in the head and don’t understand me?” Amusement fills his voice and he flashes a cocky smirk. He’s having too much fun with me, and damn if I don’t love it.

All I’m thinking about is knocking boots with this gorgeous firefighter, climbing his towering frame, and yes, I’m thinking about riding him.

In my defense, his words blindside me, but nowhere near as much as the fact he looks like he means exactly what he said. Not the getting knocked on the head bit, but rather the thing about me riding him. I’m still a little confused how that’s going to happen.

I can’t see him slinging me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and walking any distance in this rough terrain. Carrying me in his arms isn’t feasible, not for the distance he’ll need to walk. I don’t care how bulky those biceps of his look; no man can carry