warned, his hot dog had caught fire. The smell of burning meat met his nostrils. He watched as the flames turned the casing blistered and black.
Like a length of charred flesh.
Bile rising in his throat, he hurled the skewer into the fire. The force sent ashes scattering across the sand. A stray piece of wood flew up and landed on the back of his hand. Jake hissed from the contact.
“What the—?” Zoe was in front of him before he saw her move. “Are you all right? Did you burn yourself? Let me see.”
He must have clasped his fist to his chest, because all of a sudden he could feel her soft touch as she pried open his fingers. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he heard her say. “We should wash off your hand with cold water, though.”
Before he could protest, she slipped away. She wasback a moment later, a bottle of water and a paper towel in her hand. “This will have to do for now. When you get home, you can put some antibiotic ointment on.”
He tried to shake off her attention. “It’s just a burn. I’ve had worse.” Far, far worse.
Although right now, his heart seemed to be slamming against his ribs more violently than it ever had under fire.
“Even a small burn can get infected,” she retorted as she pressed the damp cloth to his skin. The lemon scent of her hair rose up to greet his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. More than grounding, it was the scent of clean and home and everything good he’d forgotten could exist. He breathed and breathed until his lungs were so full he feared they might burst. He wanted to lose himself in the aroma, in Zoe herself with her silky sweet skin and promised refuge. An ache, unfamiliar yet strong as steel, took hold in his chest.
Zoe looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Better?”
Hell no. He was off balance and out of breath. And God, how he ached.
“Yes.” It wasn’t a complete lie. His hand didn’t hurt anymore.
“Good.” She smiled. Jake’s insides spiraled into free fall. A groan rose in his throat. Just a slip of hisarm around her waist. That’s all it would take to pull her lemon-scented brightness tight.
Refuge. It called to him. She called to him.
Expectancy hung in the hair. Zoe felt it, too. There was no mistaking the desire dancing in her eyes.
He heard a dull thud as the water bottle fell to the ground. Free, her hand reached toward his face, her fingers shaking as they tracked the line of his jaw. Jake’s breath caught. The feathery touch stoked the fire inside him. He wanted her. God, but he wanted her.
But then what? Did he kiss her senseless? Lose himself in the sanctuary of her arms for a night, taking what she so willingly offered without giving anything in return? Because what did he have to give but emptiness and darkness and cold?
What kind of man would that make him?
No, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that to her. She’d already been used by one man—he wouldn’t add to the list. He might have precious little honor left, but he had enough.
Summoning up all his resolve, he broke away. “I’ll take care of myself now,” he told her.
For a second, Zoe didn’t move except to sway in his direction. Damn if he didn’t want to grab her up again. He had to stomp a few feet away to resist the temptation.
“I don’t want— I don’t need you to play nursemaid.” The harshness of his words made him wince. Who was he trying to admonish, her or him?
“I didn’t mean to presume otherwise,” she replied in a soft voice. So soft it hit him square in the gut. He turned, ready to apologize, only to catch her staring sightlessly into the fire.
Earlier in the day he’d wondered what kind of man could kill her brightness. Now he knew.
How many more people were going to be hurt because of him?
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I CAN’T decide if I like the light grey or the dark.”
“Zoe, they’re roof shingles, not a work of art.”
It was the first time they’d interacted in two days, and Zoe wasn’t in a hurry for the
Like a length of charred flesh.
Bile rising in his throat, he hurled the skewer into the fire. The force sent ashes scattering across the sand. A stray piece of wood flew up and landed on the back of his hand. Jake hissed from the contact.
“What the—?” Zoe was in front of him before he saw her move. “Are you all right? Did you burn yourself? Let me see.”
He must have clasped his fist to his chest, because all of a sudden he could feel her soft touch as she pried open his fingers. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he heard her say. “We should wash off your hand with cold water, though.”
Before he could protest, she slipped away. She wasback a moment later, a bottle of water and a paper towel in her hand. “This will have to do for now. When you get home, you can put some antibiotic ointment on.”
He tried to shake off her attention. “It’s just a burn. I’ve had worse.” Far, far worse.
Although right now, his heart seemed to be slamming against his ribs more violently than it ever had under fire.
“Even a small burn can get infected,” she retorted as she pressed the damp cloth to his skin. The lemon scent of her hair rose up to greet his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. More than grounding, it was the scent of clean and home and everything good he’d forgotten could exist. He breathed and breathed until his lungs were so full he feared they might burst. He wanted to lose himself in the aroma, in Zoe herself with her silky sweet skin and promised refuge. An ache, unfamiliar yet strong as steel, took hold in his chest.
Zoe looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Better?”
Hell no. He was off balance and out of breath. And God, how he ached.
“Yes.” It wasn’t a complete lie. His hand didn’t hurt anymore.
“Good.” She smiled. Jake’s insides spiraled into free fall. A groan rose in his throat. Just a slip of hisarm around her waist. That’s all it would take to pull her lemon-scented brightness tight.
Refuge. It called to him. She called to him.
Expectancy hung in the hair. Zoe felt it, too. There was no mistaking the desire dancing in her eyes.
He heard a dull thud as the water bottle fell to the ground. Free, her hand reached toward his face, her fingers shaking as they tracked the line of his jaw. Jake’s breath caught. The feathery touch stoked the fire inside him. He wanted her. God, but he wanted her.
But then what? Did he kiss her senseless? Lose himself in the sanctuary of her arms for a night, taking what she so willingly offered without giving anything in return? Because what did he have to give but emptiness and darkness and cold?
What kind of man would that make him?
No, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that to her. She’d already been used by one man—he wouldn’t add to the list. He might have precious little honor left, but he had enough.
Summoning up all his resolve, he broke away. “I’ll take care of myself now,” he told her.
For a second, Zoe didn’t move except to sway in his direction. Damn if he didn’t want to grab her up again. He had to stomp a few feet away to resist the temptation.
“I don’t want— I don’t need you to play nursemaid.” The harshness of his words made him wince. Who was he trying to admonish, her or him?
“I didn’t mean to presume otherwise,” she replied in a soft voice. So soft it hit him square in the gut. He turned, ready to apologize, only to catch her staring sightlessly into the fire.
Earlier in the day he’d wondered what kind of man could kill her brightness. Now he knew.
How many more people were going to be hurt because of him?
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I CAN’T decide if I like the light grey or the dark.”
“Zoe, they’re roof shingles, not a work of art.”
It was the first time they’d interacted in two days, and Zoe wasn’t in a hurry for the
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