LITMIR.BIZ

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was on you, I’m not arguing,” Jim said with a laugh, handing over her portion of the winnings as the last round of the fight began.

      Reclaiming her place on the sofa next to Ethan, she struggled to calm the pounding in her chest. It was just Ethan. So what if he was hot, fun, exciting...still brooding over his ex?

      The sound of the guys cheering interrupted her thoughts. The fight had ended and the current champion had his arms raised in the air. His opponent was out cold on the mat inside the octagon. Crap, she’d missed the knockout.

      “Did you see that?” Ethan exclaimed, turning to face her.

      She forced enthusiasm into the lie. “Yeah, amazing.” So were his dark eyes, full mouth, solid chest.... She took a breath and stood, needing to put some distance between them. Opening the bar fridge, she took out a bottle of water and gulped its contents, aware of those mesmerizing eyes on her. She was in trouble; there was no more denying it. She was in love with Ethan, and without Emily standing in the way, there was nothing stopping her from going after what she’d always wanted.

      * * *

      ETHAN STOOD AND stretched. “Okay, guys, I think that’s it for me. Thank you for stealing my money. Good night.” He checked his watch. A little past one o’clock. Everyone else had taken off after the fights, but he’d stayed to play cards with his coworkers on duty that evening. He was spending a lot of his free time at the fire hall these days, which only reminded him how much time he’d devoted to his relationship with Emily. His shifts at the fire hall and coaching his nephew’s soccer and hockey teams just weren’t enough to keep him occupied. The days weren’t the challenge; it was the lonely nights.

      He grabbed his wallet and keys from the table and waved as he left the hall. Taking the steps two at a time, he jogged upstairs to his loft-style bachelor suite. It had been a long-standing tradition in Brookhollow for the captain of the fire team to live in the apartment if he or she was single. While it essentially meant he was always on call, he loved his nine hundred square feet and the fact he was only seconds away if he was needed in an emergency.

      Inside, he kicked off his shoes and headed straight for his upstairs bedroom. He was exhausted after the late night and early morning. He just hoped that his inability to keep his eyes open would mean a good night’s sleep for a change. In the six months since Emily had left, sleep had constantly eluded him. He wished that for just one night, the last thought he had wouldn’t be of her. Removing his shirt, he tossed it into the corner laundry basket as his cell phone rang on the bedside table.

      Oh, come on, it was almost one-thirty in the morning. She couldn’t possibly expect him to answer. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his forehead. What was he supposed to do? He reached for the phone just as the emergency alarm sounded downstairs. Dropping the ringing phone onto his bed, Ethan bounded back down the stairs and out the front door of the apartment without even stopping for his shoes.

      Inside the fire hall, the men had rushed to the duty racks. Derek’s face paled as he listened to the call from dispatch. “Yeah, okay. Yeah, two units are on it.” He motioned for the other men to suit up.

      Ethan grabbed the report as it came over the machine. The familiar address in bold, block letters on top of the emergency reporting page caught his attention. Doug’s Motors. Grabbing the report, he ran toward the duty racks and grabbed his boots.

      Derek approached and grabbed the report. “What are you doing? You’re off duty.”

      “It’s the shop, man. I’m coming.” Ethan slid his jacket over his bare shoulders and grabbed his gear.

      Derek followed behind him toward the unit. “I think you’re a little too close to this one....”

      Jim jumped into the passenger seat of the first response vehicle. “He’s right, Ethan, you’re out. Your emotions are running too high right now.”

      Ethan ignored him and jumped into the driver’s seat of the truck. “Any fire in Brookhollow would be close for any of us. Now let’s go.”

      “Ethan, I’m not speaking as your brother, but as a member of this squad. I think you should sit this one out.”

      “As captain, I respect your opinion, Jim, but on duty or not, I’m leading this one.”

      Jim looked about to argue, but Derek said, “We’re wasting time, guys.”

      “Fine, but for the safety of everyone involved, you’re on pump only,” Jim insisted.

      “No, you’re faster on pump. I’m going in.”

      “Only if you can get a grip.”

      Ethan just nodded as he flicked on the emergency lights and sirens and tore through the bay door into the street. His thoughts ran wild—the garage, Bailey’s shop. His hands shook on the wheel and he tightened his grip in an effort to steady them under Jim’s watchful gaze. He forced a calming breath. Jim and Derek were right. He was a little too close to this one and he needed to keep a clear head. Not only did Bailey depend on him keeping his focus and his safety training in mind, but his team, as well. One of the many benefits of small-town life was that everything was close, and at this hour of night the streets were deserted, but as the speedometer reached forty, Jim shot him a look.

      “I said, get a grip.” His brother’s voice was stern.

      Ethan slowed just a fraction as the big truck made a right off Main Street onto Vermont Avenue and the shop came into sight. Thirty-six seconds later—it felt more like thirty-six minutes—they pulled into the lot, followed by the wailing sirens of the ladder truck behind them. Thick, dark gray smoke billowed from the side bay doors and he could see flames through the shop’s big front window.

      “Okay, let’s do a 360.” He motioned to Jim as they jumped down from the first truck. The perimeter check was important to locate the fire and confirm that no one needed immediate rescue, as well as identify any possible hazards to their own safety. A propane tank or any flammable waste materials near the building could cause serious problems. He wasn’t taking any chances with his team.

      Jim nodded his understanding as he put on his self-contained breathing apparatus and followed Derek around the side of the building.

      “Back door is locked, preventing access,” Jim called over the radio to Derek and Mark as Ethan secured the nozzle of the hose on the back of the truck.

      Bailey always kept the back door dead bolted at night. Even in a town as safe as Brookhollow, she didn’t take chances with her clients’ vehicles.

      “Is there an internal sprinkler system?” Derek asked.

      “No.” Why hadn’t he insisted that Doug install the proper security measures years before? Without a doubt the damage this fire would cause could have been eliminated or at least reduced had a system been installed to respond to the first signs of smoke or flames. There was nothing he could do about it now. “Check for open windows and doors,” Ethan said.

      “Small open window on the left side of the building,” Mark confirmed.

      Thank God. An open window eliminated several possible dangers in a situation like this one. An airtight space had the potential for a backdraft or flashover when a firefighter had to force entry. The last thing they needed was an unexpected explosion increasing the danger level.

      “Parameter check complete,” Jim announced. “Several discarded car engines and an old battery have been transferred off the premises.”

      Ethan tried the front door.

      “Front door is locked. I’m breaking in.” He grabbed an ax and shattered the thin pane of glass in seconds.

      Derek and Jim joined him with the hose line, and all three dropped to their knees to crawl under the heavy blanket of thick, dark smoke that made it impossible to see past several feet. The emergency lighting through the back of the shop and the illuminated exit signs were their only source of light.

      Ethan stood as he reached the swinging door to

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