Touch of Fire by Samantha Sommersby Page A

hand. “No time.” He led her out the door of the pool house and up the stone steps.
    “Oh, my God!” she gasped.
    They were at the top of the landing. The woman stopped dead in her tracks, she seemed paralyzed by the imagery surrounding them. The main house was completely ablaze, the heat scalding. She stumbled backwards and cried out in anguish. Before Garrett could utter another word, she began to slide bonelessly to the ground.
    He stepped toward her, glass crunching under his boots. “Oh no, stay with me, darlin’.” Garrett caught her in his arms before she hit the ground. In a practiced move he threw her over his shoulder, ran for his truck, and tossed her inside. The entire block was now up in flames. Soon everything would be gone. Forever.
    As he secured her seat belt, he registered, for the first time, the cuts on her bare feet and the slight tear in the hip of her ash smudged white slip.
    She started to cough.
    “Here.” Garrett reached for a respirator and quickly positioned it. “Breathe slowly.”
    The woman’s hair was a tangled mess, her eyes red-rimmed from the smoke. Wordlessly she followed his command while he ran round to the driver’s side of the truck. Within seconds he’d started the vehicle and slipped it into gear. As he drove them through the hills to safety, the woman rested her head against the glass of the window and let her tears silently fall.
    It took them forty minutes to reach the stadium, which had been turned into a temporary shelter. In that time the woman hadn’t spoken a word. Garrett didn’t mind, at first, since he was exhausted himself. In fact, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he was grateful for the quiet. But now that they had reached the entrance to the stadium, he couldn’t help being a bit concerned. Her small hands trembled as they fisted the thin fabric of her slip.
    “Miss? We’re here.”
    She looked at him, her deep green eyes overflowing with emotion. “Thank you seems so inadequate. You saved my life.” She opened the door to the truck and climbed out, wincing the second her foot hit the ground.
    She shut the door before he could say anything else. Almost instantly a man approached her. Garrett sat up. The man placed one hand on her shoulder, leaning in too close, acting too familiar.
    “She’s not your problem, Garrett. Just go on home,” he said to himself. Only he couldn’t. The man seemed predatory, the woman vulnerable. An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach, one he couldn’t ignore. So he hopped out of the truck and headed straight for the pair.
    “Are you all right? Why don’t you come with me?” The man placed his hand at the small of her back. “It looks like you’ve got some cuts that need tending to. We have a first aid station set up right over there. I’m Ron, by the way. And you are?”
    “With me.” Garrett interrupted the man.
    “I thought you were dropping her off.”
    “I changed my mind.” Garrett reached for her elbow to guide her back to his truck. She was limping and obviously in pain. Effortlessly, he scooped her up.
    “What are you doing? Put me down!”
    Garrett was undeterred. “You can barely walk.” He set her down next to the truck, opened the passenger door, then helped her inside.
    “Let me see that foot.” He knelt down to examine it. There was glass embedded in the soft tissue along with blood, dirt, and grime. “We’ve got to get this taken care of.”
    Removing his coat, Garrett tossed it into the back of the truck. He unclipped his cell phone from his belt and opened it up. “Can I take you over to an urgent care center or maybe there’s a friend we could—”
    “It’s not that bad. The man said there’s a first aid center somewhere nearby. Maybe you could drop me there?” She folded her arms protectively over her breasts. “I don’t know anyone here. I’m not from San Diego.”
    Garrett lifted her chin so he could look her in the eye, “I’m Garrett Flint. They