by Claire Adams
The EMTs had suggested that they drive Howard and me to the closest vet clinic so that I could get Howard checked out. He wasn’t happy about the fact that the EMT was struggling to keep an oxygen mask over his face, but he wasn’t fighting very hard, and I knew that wasn’t a good thing.
At the clinic, the techs whisked Howard from the arms of the EMT and took him back to the treatment area as the receptionist directed me to the waiting area. She brought me a cup of coffee and said that the doctor would be out as soon as they’d assessed Howard’s injuries. I nodded and sat down in a corner chair.
The quiet struck me as odd until I remembered that this was Christmas morning, and that the rest of Waltham was most likely gathering around their trees to begin their celebrations. A wave of grief flowed through my body, causing me to set my coffee down before resting my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands as I cried quietly.
“Ms. Fowl—Emily?” a familiar voice cut through my sadness. “Are you okay, Emily?”
“Huh?” I said, looking up to find Blake Gaston standing in front of me holding a cup of coffee, a white bag with the word Patisserie on the side, and my cell phone. I looked at the offerings and then back up at him. “Where did you find that? What are you doing here?”
“I saw it on the table and grabbed it before the guys sprayed the room. I don’t know if it works. Mostly I wanted to check on you and see how Howard is doing,” he said, continuing to hold the food and drink out. “I didn’t think you’d have gotten breakfast.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking the cup and the bag from him.
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked, looking around the waiting room.
“No, please, have a seat,” I said, as I set the coffee down and opened the bag. Inside were a large chocolate éclair and two glazed donuts. I took a donut and offered the bag to him after he’d sat down next to me.
“No, I’m good,” he said, shaking his head. Thinking he was just being polite, I held the bag out until he sheepishly admitted, “Actually, I ate three of those suckers on the way over, and I’m a little full now.”
I laughed as I bit into the sugar-covered circle of fried dough and chewed thoughtfully.
“How’s Howard doing?” he asked, as he avoided my gaze.
“Good,” I said with a mouthful of donut. I picked up the coffee and drank before speaking again. “The techs are with him now, and they said the doctor will come out as soon as she’s examined him.”
“How are you doing?” he asked, looking over at me. I swallowed hard and looked away.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, trying to keep my tone light as the reality of the situation began to settle in. I inhaled sharply and looked down as I fought back tears. I set the coffee cup down as he spoke again.
“Seriously, how are you doing?” he asked, as he slid an arm around the back of my chair and leaned in closer. “You don’t have to fake it with me. I was there. I saw your house.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I whispered, as I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around my waist and choking back a sob. The bag of pastries fell off my lap, and a donut rolled across the floor. Blake reached out and grabbed it before kneeling down in front of me.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he reassured me, as he rested a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all going to be all right.”
“You don’t know that!” I cried. “My cat is hurt, and I just lost my home! And on Christmas!”
Blake wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me close as he rubbed my back and repeated over and over that everything was going to be okay. I remained tense and closed off as he rocked me slowly and murmured reassurances. Slowly, I relaxed into his embrace, and after a few minutes, I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder as he held me.
“Ms. Fowler?” the tech called from the door. “You can come see your boy now.”
“He’s alive?” I asked through tears, as I lifted my face from Blake’s shoulder.
“Oh goodness, yes!” the tech laughed. “He’s a little singed in places, and he inhaled a good deal of smoke, so his voice is a little ragged, but he’s mad as hell, and I’m pretty sure he wants to see his person.”
“That’s Howard,” I said, nodding as I wiped the tears from my face and took a deep breath. Blake stood up and offered me a hand.
“I’ll just wait out here,” he said. I nodded and followed the tech to the back of the clinic, where Howard sat inside a large wall cage staring angrily at the wall and growling anytime someone walked by.
“Hey you, why are you so mad?” I asked quietly. At the sound of my voice, Howard whipped his head around and began mewing pathetically. That set off another wave of tears, as the tech unlatched the door to the cage and let me reach in and pick my scared cat up and hold him in my arms. Much like I’d done with Blake, Howard rested his head on my shoulder and mewed softly as I held him to my chest whispering, “You scared the hell out of me, fat man! Why didn’t you come when I called?”
The doctor came over and gave me the rundown on Howard’s condition, telling me that it was probably best if he stayed in the clinic overnight so that they could monitor the effects of the smoke he’d inhaled. If all of the readings were normal by tomorrow morning, I could take him home with me. I nodded and thanked her as the tech came over to administer Howard’s medications. He protested weakly as I put him back in the cage, but the tech gave him a pain shot, and soon he was asleep.
Back out in the waiting area, Blake sat thumbing through an old copy of Sports Illustrated. He gave me a questioning look, and I nodded.
“Okay, good, he’s going to be all right,” he said, as I sat down next to him. “Do you have someplace to go? Family? Friends? I’m happy to drop you off.”
“I…I…I don’t know where I’m going to go,” I said quietly, before I began crying again. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s all good,” he said, draping an arm around my shoulder. “Why don’t I take you back to my house and you can get a shower and something to eat, then we’ll figure out what to do next?”
“Are you sure?” I asked tearfully.
“Absolutely,” he said, standing up and offering me a hand. “Let’s get you a shower and some breakfast, and then we’ll figure out what to do after that.”
An hour later, I emerged from a steamy shower to find that Blake had left a well-worn flannel shirt, sweats, and a pair of wool socks for me on his bed. He’d taken my soot-stained clothes and tossed them in the wash, and when I emerged from the bedroom, I’d found him singing along to Christmas carols as he flipped pancakes and tended to the bacon that was under the broiler.
“How about a nice, hot cup of coffee?” he asked, as he passed me a steaming mug and gestured to the cream and sugar sitting on the counter.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I said, as I added cream and sugar before taking a sip. “But thank you.”
“No problem at all,” he said, as he hummed along with Johnny Mathis. “I’d hate to see you spending the day alone. Speaking of which, if you’re up for it, you’re welcome to accompany me to my parents’ for a Christmas Day celebration the likes of which has never been seen.”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…” I said, trailing off as I imagined the way my own family would deal with having a stranger suddenly thrust into the family gathering. I shuddered to think of how my mother would give someone the cold shoulder, and couldn’t imagine how I’d cope with that after everything that had happened today.
“Nonsense, my family would welcome the opportunity,” he said, flipping several pancakes onto a plate before pulling the bacon out of the oven and transferring it to a waiting paper towel. “But I have to warn you that they’re all a little crazy.”
“In what way?” I asked hesitantly. Blake set the plate down in front of me and motioned to the butter and syrup.
“Eat up, there’s plenty more where these came from,” he urged, as I returned to
the stove. “My family is crazy in the way that people who teach for a living are crazy, so you’ll probably do all right with them.”
“So, you think teachers are crazy?” I laughed, as I spread a thick layer of butter on the top pancake and then doused the stack in maple syrup. I snuck a quick peek at him as he stood at the stove, and couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles in his back and arms rippled as he moved. I felt the familiar twinge of desire that had dogged me ever since our first meeting, and quickly looked away before it turned into something more urgent.
“No, just my family of teachers,” he said, as he pulled the pan off the stove and made a show of flipping each pancake into the air and catching in the pan. The last one landed on top of the first and I burst out laughing. Blake shrugged as he slid the spatula under both and flipped the messy stack into the trash can. He grinned at me as he said, “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
By the time he’d finished making all the pancakes, I felt like I was going to burst. He sat down and dug into a stack as I watched him eat. He told me about the party at the station the night before, and regaled me with imitations of the various firefighters and community members. Some of them I recognized, but most were strangers to me. What was obvious was that he had a great love for his job and his community, and it made him even more attractive.
He’d showered, but he hadn’t yet shaved, and the stubble on his face gave him a slightly wild and dangerous appearance. I tried not to stare at him, but when he looked up at me and held my gaze as he drank from the mug that said “World’s #1 Dad,” I felt like I’d been caught. I quickly averted my eyes and stared down into the mug I still held in my hands.
“Want more coffee?” he asked, as he leaned back and reached for the pot. I nodded, and he refilled my cup and topped off his own. “So, you think you might want to join me?”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” I said, as I looked up into his warm brown eyes.
“Don’t be silly; it’s really not a bother,” he smiled, as he reached out and brushed something from the sleeve of my shirt. “Besides, my father will love being able to try and stump the historian, and my mother always makes way more food than we can eat. You’d be doing us all a favor, really.”
“Well, if it’s a favor,” I laughed. “How can I turn that down? I mean, beggars without houses can’t really be choosers, now can they?”
Blake leaned back in his chair and let out a long, loud laugh, which made me laugh harder. He leaned forward and started to say something, but couldn’t get it out before he started laughing again.
“Lady, you’re hilarious,” he said, when he finally regained the ability to speak. “Now, let me see if your clothes are dry and then we can get ready to go.”
“Oh God, I don’t have anything decent to wear to Christmas dinner!” I cried, as he walked to the laundry room to retrieve my clothes.
“Eh, don’t stress, my family does not dress up,” he said. “In fact, if my mother can’t blackmail my father into putting on a pair of jeans, he’ll most likely be wearing sweats and his favorite Notre Dame sweatshirt.”
“Oh, okay,” I nodded, as I took the warm clothing from him, feeling a jolt of electricity pass through me as our hands touched. I quickly headed back to the spare bedroom to change. I could hear Blake in the next room and wondered what he’d do if he knew how much I wanted to touch him.
“Emily, you ready?” Blake said, as he tapped on the door.
“Almost!” I called, as I pulled on my shirt and jeans. I fluffed my hair and wondered if I should pull it up or leave it down as I lamented the fact that I had no makeup, or anything else. The tears welled up as the magnitude of what had happened hit me, and I sunk down on the bed with my head in my hands.
“Emily? Are you okay?” Blake called. When I didn’t respond, he carefully cracked open the door and stuck his head into the room. I was doubled over, holding back the sobs that threatened to pull me under. He sat down next to me and put his arms around me without saying a word. I turned and buried my face in his chest as the wave of grief knocked me over, and I began to cry harder than I’d ever cried before.
Blake tightened his arms around me and rocked me gently as I cried. He began to hum as he rubbed my back and stroked my head, and soon, my gut-wrenching sobs began to subside. The smell of his clean but musky cologne made me want to bury my face in his neck and inhale deeply, so I tipped my head and did just that. I heard Blake inhale sharply.
“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, as I lifted my face and looked up at him. Our eyes locked and I held my breath as I waited for what would happen next.
Blake leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. It was a soft kiss, one that was testing the waters to see where to go next, and it made every nerve in my body spring to life. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me again. This time the kiss was harder, and I responded with an urgency that let him know he was headed in the right direction.
He leaned back on the bed and pulled me onto his chest as he ran his fingers through my hair. I melted into his arms as our kiss intensified. He traced my upper lip with the tip of his tongue, eliciting a soft moan from the back of my throat. I reached down and tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he held me against his body as he sat up enough to let me pull it up. Frantically, we stripped each other’s clothes off, searching for the bare skin that lay beneath them.
Blake groaned as I straddled him before bending to run my tongue up the side of his neck. I pushed away the doubt that nipped at the outer edges of my mind as I reached down and guided him between my legs. He gave me a questioning look that I silenced with one swift downward motion. He groaned as I began rocking back and forth, his hands sliding over my naked skin as I covered his lips with mine.
We moved together, finding a rhythm that drove us to the edge of climax before slowing down and extending the delicious tension that continued to build. Blake’s hands cupped my breasts, and I moaned into his lips as he squeezed my nipples into two erect points. I rocked on him as he thrust his hips upward, driving me closer and closer to the edge, and then, in a moment, I felt the flood of release moving from inside out.
“Blake!” I cried, as I felt my whole body awash with the intensity of orgasm. My pulsing brought Blake to climax seconds later, and I felt him tense and then release. He held me tightly as he throbbed inside me. I moved my hips in small circles, feeling the last waves move through me.
Neither one of us spoke. Blake wrapped his arms around me as I lay across his chest. He was solid and warm, and for the first time in a long time, I felt safe and secure. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as I listened to his heartbeat return to normal.
“Emily? Are you okay?” Blake whispered, as he pushed a strand of hair off my face.
“Mmmm hmm,” I murmured, not wanting to move from my warm spot of safety and satisfaction.
“That was amazing,” he said, as he kissed my forehead.
“It really was,” I echoed, as I tipped my chin so I could look into his eyes. He smiled and kissed me again.
“I would love nothing more than to lay here and keep doing this all day,” he said, as I nodded. “But we do have to get over to my parents’ house.”
“Oh my gosh!” I cried. “We’re going to be so late! I’m sorry!”
“Shhh, shhh,” he chuckled, as he pulled me down and kissed me tenderly. “It’s all good. I’m never on time, so they won’t be expecting me for another hour.”
“Oh, well then…” I said, flashing him a sexy grin that told him exactly what I was thinking.
“Oh no!” he laughed loudly. “We need to get dressed, you temptress!”
Blake kissed me once more and then sat up before I slid off of his lap and made a dash for the bathroom. I turned on the water, stepped into the large bathtub, and gasped as Blake followed. We spent the next half hour teasing each other as we slid our slick, soap-coated hands over each other’s bodies, exploring every inch and working our
selves into a state of arousal that could only be sated by melding our wet bodies on the bathroom floor.
When we finally closed the front door and headed for the truck, I felt a warm glow radiating from me that had very little to do with the holiday season. Blake smiled at me as he opened the truck door and helped me in.
“Merry Christmas, Emily,” he said, as he kissed me lightly. A smile spread across my lips as I whispered, “Merry Christmas, indeed, Blake.”
Chapter Fifteen
Blake
I hadn’t called ahead to tell my parents that I was bringing a guest to our Christmas celebration, but I didn’t worry because in my family, there was always room for one more at the table. Emily looked apprehensive as we pulled into the drive, but I smiled reassuringly and squeezed her hand before we headed into the house.
“Merry Christmas, Blake!” my mother called from the kitchen as Emily and I entered through the front door.
“How did you know it was me?” I laughed, as I slipped off my boots and hung our coats in the front hall closet.
“Because I’m already here, dumbass,” Brian said, as he emerged from the kitchen licking a spatula covered in what looked like cake batter.
“No fair, Mom!” I protested, as I crossed the room and tried to wrestle the spatula from my brother’s hand. Brian held it high above his head, and as I reached for it, he flung batter against the wall and across the floor.
“Brian and Blake!” my mother yelled, as she came out of the kitchen just in time to witness the mess being made. “What did I tell you two about messing up my…oh, hello! Who is this, Blake?”
“Mom, this is Emily Fowler; she’s Nina’s History teacher,” I said, as my mother raised an eyebrow and then immediately stepped forward to welcome Emily into her home.
