Chapter 1 Kaia #2
The corner of his mouth moves.
This time I see it.
My heart reacts with a level of enthusiasm that is honestly insulting.
“There,” I say. “That was a smile.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It had all the required components.”
He shakes his head once, but there is something warmer in his eyes now.
Then the living room lights flicker.
Once.
Twice.
Zain’s expression changes immediately. The almost smile disappears, and his gaze lifts toward the ceiling.
I wince.
He looks back at me. “That happen often?”
“Sometimes.”
His jaw tightens.
“It is an old house.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
I lean against the doorframe. “Maybe once every few days.”
“Call your landlord.”
“I have.”
“When?”
“Earlier this week.”
His eyes narrow.
“Kaia.”
“I left a message.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
The quiet man next door vanishes beneath the fire chief in less than a second. His attention moves through the room, assessing the fixtures, the kitchen beyond me, the old walls as if he can somehow see the wiring hidden inside them.
“I am fine,” I say.
“I didn’t ask.”
Something warm settles beneath my ribs before I can stop it.
Of course that is his answer.
Zain fixes things without permission. He replaced a loose board on my porch during my second month in town and acted irritated when I thanked him.
He notices when children are frightened at community events and somehow always ends up crouched beside them.
Apparently, he also walks over after a long shift because the woman next door vanished beneath a window.
It would be much easier if he were simply grumpy.
“I’ll call again tomorrow,” I promise.
“First thing.”
“Yes, Chief.”
Something flashes in his eyes.
The reaction is so quick I almost miss it, but I do not imagine the sudden stillness in his body.
My stomach tightens.
Interesting.
Zain glances past me once more, and my pulse jumps when his gaze moves toward the covered easel. I shift slightly, blocking the view.
His eyes return to mine.
“What’s under there?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a canvas.”
“A very private canvas.”
His gaze holds mine.
I hold my breath.
Then he gives one small nod.
“Call the landlord.”
Relief rushes through me.
“I will.”
He steps back from the door.
“Lock up.”
“I always do.”
He waits.
I sigh. “Yes, Chief.”
There it is again.
That tiny change in his eyes.
Then he turns and walks toward his cabin.
I close the door, lock it, and remain there with my forehead resting against the wood until I hear his own door shut next door.
Only then do I look at the lamp.
Then the covered portrait.
Then Ivy.
“I am handling this very well.”
Ivy does not agree.
An hour later, the laundry is folded, the bra has been removed from the lamp, and I am in bed trying very hard not to think about Zain Carson.
Tomorrow I have two children’s art classes at the community center, which means I need sleep. Six-year-olds can sense weakness, and the last time I arrived tired, one of them painted another child’s elbow green and convinced him it would never come off.
I close my eyes.
Naturally, I think about Zain.
The almost smile.
The fact that he noticed me disappear beneath the window.
The way his eyes changed when I called him Chief.
I groan and roll onto my side.
“This is pathetic.”
I pull the blanket higher and force my breathing to slow.
For a while, I drift.
Then something smells wrong.
My eyes open.
I lie still in the darkness.
The scent is faint at first, hot and bitter enough to make every sleepy thought vanish.
Burning.
I sit up.
A thin haze hangs near the ceiling.
My heart slams hard against my ribs.
“No.”
Smoke curls beneath my bedroom door.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and nearly drop it because my fingers are already shaking. The emergency call connects while I scramble out of bed.
“Whispering Pines Emergency Communications. Tessa Nguyen speaking. What’s the address of your emergency?”
I force the words past my tight throat and give her my address.
“Tell me exactly what’s happening.”
“My house is on fire.”
The words come out thin and broken.
“Are you outside?”
“No. I’m upstairs.”
“All right. Tell me your name.”
“Kaia Evans.”
“All right, Kaia. Firefighters are being dispatched now. Where upstairs are you?”
“My bedroom.”
“Is the bedroom door closed?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Keep it closed. Is smoke coming through anywhere?”
I stare at the dark ribbon curling beneath the door.
“Yes. Underneath it.”
“Then do not open that door. The hallway may not be safe. Stay in the bedroom, get low, and move beneath the smoke.”
I drop to my knees.
The room already looks different from down here, the smoke gathering above me while my pulse pounds so hard I can barely hear.
“Tessa, it’s getting worse.”
“I know. Stay with me, Kaia. Can you reach a window?”
“Yes.”
“Go to it. Stay as low as you can.”
I crawl across the floor with the phone clenched in one hand. My eyes sting, and every breath tastes wrong.
Something crashes downstairs.
I flinch so hard my shoulder hits the side of the bed.
“Tessa.”
“I’m here.”
I reach the window and shove upward.
It does not move.
My stomach drops.
I try again, harder this time.
Nothing.
“The window is stuck.”
“Keep low. Do not go into the hallway.”
I put the phone on speaker beside me and grip the frame with both hands.
It refuses to move.
“I can’t open it.”
“Firefighters are on the way. Stay with me.”
I cough into my shoulder.
Another crash explodes downstairs.
Closer.
My whole body stills.
“Tessa, someone is in the house.”
“What do you hear?”
I turn toward the bedroom door.
For a second, there is only the crackle of fire and the blood rushing in my ears.
Then a voice roars through the smoke.
“Kaia!”
My heart stops.
I know that voice even roughened by distance and smoke.
“Zain?”
Something slams against the bedroom door.
Once.
Twice.
The frame splinters.
Tessa is saying something through the phone, but I cannot make out the words because the door bursts inward and smoke rolls into the room.
Zain appears through it.
For one stunned second, all I can do is stare.
He is in turnout gear, with a heavy coat, helmet, gloves, an air tank strapped to his back, and a breathing mask sealed over his face. There is no crew behind him and no hose cutting through the smoke.
Only Zain.
His eyes find me on the floor.
The look in them steals what little breath I have left.
“Kaia.”
My name comes through the mask rough and muffled.
He crosses the room and drops beside me.
I snatch my phone from the floor.
“Tessa,” I gasp.
“I’m here.”
“Chief Carson is here.”
Zain’s gloved hand closes around my shoulder while his eyes move over me with frantic precision, checking my face, my arms, the way I am breathing.
A distant siren cuts through the night.
Zain slides one arm behind my back and the other beneath my knees.
Then he lifts me.
The movement pulls a startled breath from me.
One second I am on the floor, shaking and coughing, and the next I am pressed against the hard bulk of his chest. His turnout coat is rough beneath my cheek, his arms impossibly solid around me, and even through all those layers of protective gear I feel the strength in the way he holds me.
Close.
So close that some foolish, traitorous part of me recognizes this before the rest of me can.
I have imagined Zain touching me.
I have imagined his hands on my waist, his mouth on mine, what it might feel like to be pulled against the broad body I have sketched far too many times.
I never imagined smoke burning my lungs while he carried me out of a fire.
My fingers twist into the front of his coat anyway, needing something solid. Needing him.
His hold tightens instantly, drawing me closer against his chest as if even an inch between us is too much.
My throat closes for an entirely different reason.
“You came for me.”