Sparking Sara (The Men on Fire Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “They’re romance novels, Sara.”

  “So?”

  I shake my head, laughing. “Okay.”

  Then I have a terrible thought. “Sara, could you read them yourself if you wanted to?”

  Her eyes fall to her lap. She shakes her head. “I … I have trouble with words sometimes.”

  I knew she was working with a speech and a cognitive therapist, but most of those sessions happen in another room when I’m not around. I wasn’t aware she was having so much trouble.

  “I mean, I can read,” she says. “I’m not stupid or anything. But sometimes my brain just doesn’t see the right words or something.”

  “Jesus, Sara. I would never think you’re stupid. We knew all these things would take time.” I pick one of Baylor’s books at random. “And until then, I’m happy to read to you.”

  “Thank you,” she says, her head settling on the pillow. “Because you have a really great voice.”

  I smile as I open the front cover and start reading.

  Two chapters in, the main characters finally meet and you can sense the instant chemistry. I’m beginning to see why Baylor's books are so popular. From the first page, she draws you in. Who knew romance novels could be so intriguing? Baylor doesn’t hold back with her language, and every time I read the work fuck, Sara giggles.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you’d make a great audiobook narrator?” she asks.

  I look up from the novel. “That’s a thing?”

  “It is. Authors would probably kill to have you narrate their books. The way you read is just …”

  “What?” I ask.

  Her cheeks pink up. “It’s sexy.”

  I roll my eyes at her and get back to reading. After another chapter, it almost looks like Sara is falling asleep. I contemplate stopping, but I’m kind of getting into the book. The main characters are having a fight and there is so much sexual tension. Then he grabs her and throws her against the wall. They rip off each other’s clothes and do things to each other. A lot of things.

  I have to shift around on the chair. It’s fortunate I’m sitting down because, damn it, I’ve gotten an erection. But you can hardly blame me, it’s like watching porn. Except it’s in my head. And because it’s in my head, all I see when I picture the characters are Sara and me. Me throwing her against a wall. Her grabbing my dick. Us sinking to the floor and getting naked.

  I glance up at Sara and see she’s not asleep. Her eyes are closed, but she’s definitely not sleeping. In fact, she’s smiling. And she’s biting her lower lip.

  When she realizes I’m no longer reading, her eyes open. “Don’t stop now, it’s just getting good.”

  We stare at each other for a few long, drawn-out seconds before I have to avert my gaze because her chocolate eyes burning into mine do nothing to tamp down my rising problem.

  I try to get through the chapter, speaking softly in case anyone walks by Sara’s door. Damn, Baylor. She can write one hell of a sex scene. It goes on for pages.

  When the chapter comes to an end and the characters have been thoroughly bedded, I put down the book. “My throat is dry from all the reading,” I say, getting up to go into her bathroom.

  I’m glad I’m walking away from her and not towards her, because there would be no hiding my physical reaction to what I just read her.

  In the bathroom, I splash water on my face. Then I stare at myself in the mirror. “You can’t think of her like that, you idiot.”

  I take a minute to let my erection wane. When I emerge from the bathroom, Sara is getting out of bed. She goes to step with her left foot and falters. I race over and catch her before she hits the ground. Her arms go around my neck as I hold her up to steady her.

  She looks up at me, and that’s when I realize neither of us has let the other go. It’s the first time we’ve ever had this kind of close physical contact. And damn it, she feels so good in my arms. And her eyes. Those eyes I dream about at night. They’re even more magnificent being only inches from my own.

  For a moment, it’s almost like we’ve been transformed into the characters of the book I was reading. The intense feelings I’m having are magnified by the words I read just moments ago.

  My gaze falls to her lips. Her tongue darts out to wet them. And then, just like in the book, Sara’s hands grab me by the back of the neck, pulling my head down to hers. And just like in the book, I’m helpless to stop it.

  Our lips crash together like they’ve been searching for their perfect match. Then they stay together as if they think they’ve found it. Her lips are soft. Plump. Inviting. And they taste of pepperoni. I explore her mouth with my tongue as I feel my erection strain to make a second appearance.

  Kissing Sara is different from kissing any other woman I’ve kissed before. It’s better. It’s better in ways I can’t even explain except to say I’d rather be kissing her than sleeping with anyone else.

  Then, suddenly, my conscience gets the better of me and I pull away. But I don’t let her go. I place my forehead on hers. “Sara,” I say, breathing heavily. “We can’t.”

  “I know,” she says, not pulling away either.

  I ease her back so she’s sitting on the bed. Then I retreat to the other side of the room.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, seeing my reaction. “That was all my fault.”

  I run a hand through my hair. “It’s not like I resisted or anything. There’s no blame here. But we can’t let that happen again. You have a fiancé. He loves you, Sara.”

  She nods. “I know. And he … he seems great. Especially now. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “There’s a term for it, you know. At FDNY we call it a ‘rescue crush.’ It’s not uncommon for victims to develop feelings for the people who save them.”

  She looks embarrassed. “So this will go away?”

  “Of course it will,” I say. “As soon as you get home and back to your life, you’ll be asking, ‘Denver who’?”

  She laughs. But it’s not genuine.

  And I realize I’ve lied to her for the second time. I’ve lied to her because I let her believe she’s the problem here when I’m the one who’s gone and fallen for her.

  Donovan comes walking through the door, giving me an opportunity to leave, and I find myself relieved. Relieved that I don’t have to stand here and look at Sara’s face any longer. Because it hurts to look at something you know you can’t have.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I’ve stayed away.

  For days, I’ve done my best to distance myself from Sara. More emotionally than physically, because I’m not going to leave her high and dry. But I have been reducing the amount of time I spend with her. And she knows it. Things are strained when I’m there, like she knows I want to be there but at the same time she understands why I shouldn’t be.

  We still play cards. We listen to the Beach Boys. And I read books to her. Just not Baylor’s books. I’ve found Stephen King to be safer.

  Neither of us has mentioned the kiss. In fact, the only person I’ve mentioned it to is Marcus Feldworth.

  As soon as I left the rehab center three days ago, I tracked him down. He encouraged me to be supportive but not emotionally available. He said I should find distractions to keep my mind off her and that eventually my feelings would wane. Especially when Sara goes home, which will be soon.

  I’m standing next to one of those distractions now.

  “Wow,” Nora says, looking around at the suite we just walked into at Hawks Stadium. She turns to me. “You’ve been holding out on me. I didn’t realize you were so wealthy, Denver.”

  I laugh at the thought. “I’m not. I’m a firefighter, Nora. I just have connections.”

  “I do like a resourceful man,” she says, looking up at me through her lashes.

  “Denver,” Ivy says, walking up to give me a hug. Then she turns to my date. “Nora, right? Nice to see you again.”

  “And you,” Nora says.

  Bass comes ov
er to greet us. I shake his hand. “Thanks for making these arrangements,” I say.

  “Of course,” he says. “Caden and Brady set the whole thing up. Their wives said they’d come up and watch the game with us.”

  Nora looks all giddy. “I still can’t believe you know actual MLB players,” she says.

  “They are just regular people,” I tell her. “You should know that after meeting Sawyer last week.”

  “Oh, my God!” she squeals. “I still can’t believe I met him.”

  A waitress comes up to us. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  I don’t answer her. I can’t answer her. I’m too focused on what just walked into the room. Or, more specifically, who.

  Sara makes her way into the suite. She’s flanked on either side by Oliver and Donovan. But it’s not them I’m paying attention to. It’s the woman wearing the Hawks shirt I bought her. The shirt she’s starting to fill out due to all the pizzas and burgers we’ve shared. The woman who is wearing makeup that accentuates her chocolate-brown eyes and her amazing cheekbones. The woman whose eyes are as laser-focused on me as mine are on her.

  The waitress clears her throat. “Sir?” she asks.

  “Sorry,” I say, giving her my attention. “Just a beer. An IPA if you’ve got one.”

  Nora looks at Sara and then back at me. Then she laces her arm around my elbow.

  As Sara approaches, she stares at our entwined arms. Then her eyes meet mine again and she smiles.

  I’ve never seen Sara wear makeup before. She doesn’t need it. She’s beautiful without it. But, wow, how it brings out her eyes.

  Oliver puts a possessive arm around her before he reaches out to shake my hand. “How are you, mate? Thanks for hooking us up here.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” I say. I nod at his Nighthawks shirt. “I’m glad you finally got on board.”

  “Anything for my girl,” he says, planting a kiss on her temple.

  Sara looks at me like she feels guilty that Oliver kissed her in front of me.

  I realize this may be a very long night.

  The waitress brings our drinks and I take a long swig of my beer.

  “What can I get you?” she asks the three who just joined us.

  “Just water for the two of us,” Oliver says. “No drinking until Monday.”

  “Coke for me,” Donovan says.

  “What’s Monday?” Nora asks.

  Oliver smiles proudly. “It’s the day Sara gets to come home. And Donovan has been holding on to a very expensive bottle of champagne that we’ve been saving for the occasion.”

  I knew it was happening soon, but I hadn’t realized they set a date. Maybe because I haven’t been to see Sara since yesterday morning. This should be good news. It is good news. But then why, when everyone else is celebrating, are Sara and I staring at each other with drawn faces?

  I force a smile. “Monday? That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”

  “You’ll come, won’t you?” Sara asks. “You’ll join us in a drink to celebrate before I leave the rehab center?”

  I wave her off. “I don’t want to intrude. Maybe that’s something you and Oliver should do without me.”

  “That’s nonsense,” she says. “You are the reason I’m even going home, Denver. You are the reason I’m still alive. Besides, Joelle is coming, too.”

  “Yeah, mate,” Oliver says. “You must be there to celebrate the day my fiancée finally gets to come back home to me.”

  I think about how Sara said Oliver has changed since the day we had that field trip to their apartment. I’ve seen it myself. He doesn’t seem as irritated with me as he used to be. Then again, I did what he asked. I backed off. Well, unless you count the kiss I had with the woman who is to be his wife. But I try not to count that. It was a moment of obvious weakness. And it’s clear to me that she never told him about it.

  “Sure,” I say. “Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.”

  Sara looks relieved. It makes me wonder just what their arrangements will be when she’s living with him at their apartment again. He made an offer to sleep on the couch until she was comfortable with him. My insides are all twisted up—on the one hand, I want what’s best for her. I want her to feel comfortable with him. On the other hand, whenever I think of her sleeping in the same bed with him, when I think of him touching her, all I see is red.

  I remember what Marcus said about needing distractions, so I take another swig of beer and pull Nora close to me. “Come on, let’s go find a seat.”

  Murphy and Rylee each bring a few friends, filling up the suite and making for a boisterous occasion. I notice that Sara seems to be enjoying herself. She’s getting into the game. She told me she had never seen a baseball game until we watched one together in the rehab center. You’d never guess that now, seeing how much she’s getting into it tonight.

  I realize I have to keep myself from staring at her. From staring at Oliver’s arm around her. But when it comes right down to it, I think I’ve watched Sara more than I’ve watched the game.

  “What is it with you and Sara?” Nora asks in a whisper. “Should I be offended that you seem to be paying more attention to her than to your own date?”

  I sigh, knowing what a douchebag that makes me. “I just worry about her,” I say. “She’s only really known Oliver for a few weeks and now she has to go home with him. That has to scare her a little.”

  Nora raises her eyebrows. “Have you seen him?” she asks, her eyes rolling towards the heavens. “Any woman should be so lucky. And that accent!”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “It’s always the accent. Maybe I should adopt one.”

  She grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. “You, sir, don’t need one. You’ve got everything going for you already.”

  “You think so?”

  She nods appreciatively.

  I don’t think I’ve been fair to Nora. If she knew I was basically using her to distract me from how I feel about Sara, she’d hate me. I decide to give her more of a chance. She’s been nothing but gracious and attentive tonight.

  I wince when a baseball hits one of the players high up on the inner thigh. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt like a mother.”

  “He’ll be fine as long as he ices it a lot over the next twenty-four hours,” Nora says.

  I turn my attention away from the game and to Nora. “Do you like being a nurse?”

  “I love it,” she says with a smile. “In fact, I’m waiting for a placement in pediatrics. I love working with kids. I’m just working the ER admissions desk temporarily. It was the only place they had for me when I moved here a few months ago.”

  “Where did you move from?”

  “I used to live in Albany.”

  “Why make the move to the big city?”

  She looks around the stadium and then back at me. “Are you kidding? It’s so exciting here. I’ve wanted to live here since I was a little girl. My parents used to bring my sisters and me here a few times a year. I’ve always loved the energy. The tall buildings. Even the noise. Albany was too quiet for me. After college, I got two years of nursing under my belt and then a few of my nurse friends and I decided to apply for jobs here. We all got one. Not at the same hospital, but we still live together.

  “How many roommates do you have?”

  “Three,” she says. “For now, we sleep two to a room. It’s expensive here and we all have college loans to pay off. But eventually, I plan to have my own place, even if it’s so small you can practically touch all four walls without moving.” She regards me thoughtfully. “Do you have roommates?”

  “Yes and no,” I tell her. “I live at my sister’s townhouse. They aren’t there most of the time since they live in Kansas City, so it makes sense for me to be their caretaker or whatever.”

  Her mouth falls open. “You live in Sawyer Mills’ townhouse? Oh my God, it must be incredible.”

  I shrug off her comment. “It’s alright I guess. It’s not like he
has gold-plated toilet seats or anything.”

  She laughs. “I’d love to see it.”

  The suite erupts in cheers when the Nighthawks score.

  Nora leans over and gives me a celebratory kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for bringing me. I’m having a lot of fun.”

  I glance over at Sara and then back at Nora, realizing that I am, too. “Maybe we could do it again sometime.”

  “I think I’d really like that,” she says. “We have a lot in common, Denver Andrews.”

  “We do?”

  She nods. “We’re both in helping professions and we’re both relatively new to the city.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  She smiles and squeezes my hand. “I know I am.”

  By the time the ninth inning rolls around, my need to pee overtakes my desire to see the last plays of the game. I’ve had quite a few drinks—more than I normally would—so I head around the corner to the bathroom. When I come out, Sara is leaning against the wall.

  I look around. “Where’s your entourage?”

  She laughs. “I’m going home on Monday,” she says. “I think I’m capable of using the toilet by myself.”

  “You’re capable of anything, Sara.”

  “Thanks to you,” she says. “So, Nora seems nice.”

  “She is nice.”

  “That’s good.” She picks at a paint chip on the wall next to her. “Are you going to stop by tomorrow?”

  “I can’t. I have a shift.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I’ll be there on Monday for your farewell party,” I say.

  “Farewell party.” She nods sadly. Then she looks up at me. “I’m saying farewell to the rehab center, not to you. Right, Denver?”

  I lean against the wall. “Sara, you’re going home with Oliver. It’s not like I can come over to the apartment you share with your fiancé and hang out with you all day.”

  “I know,” she says. “But we can still hang out sometimes, can’t we?” She looks back in the direction of the suite. “Oliver is being great. And he’s trying hard, I can tell. But you’re the one I trust right now. I know you have Nora and your other friends. But we’re friends too, aren’t we?”