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A Broken Soul(16)

By:Jessica Prince


I burst into laughter as her cheeks burned a bright, humiliated red. "It's not funny!" She smacked my arm, but I could hear the playfulness in her tone as she scolded. "Oh, God. That's so embarrassing. Just pretend I didn't say anything. I'm going to go upstairs and shove my head in my newly clean oven. Excuse me."

Without thinking about what I was doing, I reached out and grabbed her arm. "Wait, wait … " I took a deep breath to get my laughter under control. "I understood what you meant."

She narrowed her eyes in a mock glare. "Then why'd you let me keep going like that? You could have stopped me before I dug the hole any deeper."

"And miss the show? Hell, no. That was the most entertainment I've had-"

She held up her hand to stop me. "So help me God, Quinn Mallick, if you say it's the most entertainment since I set my kitchen on fire, I'm going to punch you right in the throat."

My mouth snapped closed so fast my teeth clanked together, because that was exactly what I was about to say. I cleared my throat and fought to keep from grinning as my fingers involuntarily squeezed around her arm. "You know what? I think I changed my mind. Company sounds great."

Her face broke into a beautiful smile that caused my insides to heat. "Really?"

If I were smart, I would have turned and run. I had no business being around this woman, especially with the way she affected me, but she just looked so damn happy about the prospect of us having dinner together, I couldn't bring myself to tell her no. 

"Yeah. But I don't drink wine, so I hope you have beer."

She glanced back over her shoulder as she began moving to the back of the restaurant to get to the stairs. "I got you covered."





TWO HOURS LATER we were both sitting on the floor around Lilly's coffee table, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd enjoyed myself so much. Dinner had been eaten, she drank her wine, and I was on my third beer. True to her word, Lilly hadn't pushed, so the conversation had been comfortable.

"So what made you want to be a firefighter?" she asked, as she poured more wine into her glass. She'd had just enough to give her cheeks a nice, pink glow. Her brown eyes were just a touch glassy, but she wasn't slurring her words. We were both totally at ease, which surprised the hell out of me.

It was …  nice being here, talking with her. Really fucking nice.

"It's what I've wanted to be for as long as I can remember." Lifting my beer bottle to my lips, I finished the last of it before continuing. "My father's retired PFD, so is my grandfather. It's in the blood, I guess. Growing up, I wanted to be exactly like him. It scared the shit out of my mom that I wanted to make a career out of running into burning buildings, but my dad talked her around." I laughed as a memory from my childhood popped into my head. "He used to bring his bunker gear home from the station to wash it. Hated using the machines at work. It drove my mom crazy, because it always stunk the mud room up, but I loved it. I'd sneak in there and put it on every chance I got."

Lilly's soft giggle caused my chest to expand. "Oh, I bet your mom loved that."

"She'd be pissed," I grinned. "Always going on about how I was ruining my clothes putting that nasty, smelly stuff on, but Dad loved it. And she might have bitched, but I'm pretty sure she'd got an entire photo album of me in my dad's gear."

"I bet you were adorable!" she cried.

"I was rugged," I answered with a glare. "I've never been adorable."

"Oh yeah," she snorted. "You came out of the womb like that, all …  lumber sexual and stuff."

"Lumber what?" I let out a bewildered laugh.

"Lumber sexual. It's like metro sexual, but manly, you know?"

"No, I don't know. I have no clue what you're talking about."

She waved me off and took another gulp of her wine. "Eh, you don't need to know the meaning. Just take my word for it."

"If you say so," I grinned. "So what about you? Have you always wanted to dance?"

Her voice went soft, her expression wistful. "Yeah. I've been dancing since I was about eight. I started a little later than most, but once my mom put me in classes, I was hooked."

"You're amazing," I found myself admitting. "Why didn't you go to New York or something like that?"

Her face flushed, and something told me it wasn't from the wine this time. "You've seen me dance?"

"Yeah. Last week. I was getting in my truck after grabbing a coffee. The blinds to the studio were open and you were in there by yourself." I stopped, thinking back to the sadness on her face that morning. "You were … "