house is on fire!” he cried.
“That’s not funny,” she said.
He pushed by her and opened the cupboard by the stove—thank God she had not moved things around—and picked up the huge canner stored there. He dashed to the sink, then remembered the canner didn’t fit well under the faucet. He tilted it precariously and turned on the water. It seemed it was filling in slow motion.
She sniffed the air. “What the—”
He glanced back at the door between the kitchen and the living room. A cloud of black smoke billowed in, up close to the top of the door frame.
“Get out of the house,” he yelled at her. He picked up the pot and raced out to the living room. The first flame was just shooting out of the sawdust bag on the sander. He threw the pot of water on it. The fire crackled, and then disappeared into a cloud of thick black smoke that was so acrid smelling he choked on it.
He threw the pot on the floor, and went to Jessica, who, surprise, surprise, had not followed his instructions and had not bolted for the door and the safety of the backyard. She was still standing by the menus with her mouth open.
He scooped her up. He was not sure how he managed to think of her arm under these circumstances, but he did and he was extracareful not to put any pressure on her injured limb. He tucked her close to his chest—and felt a sense, despite the awful urgency of this situation, of being exactly where he belonged.
Protecting Jessica, looking after her, using his superior strength to keep her safe. She was stunned into silence, her green eyes wide and startled on his face.
And then he felt something sigh within her and knew she felt it, too. That somehow she belonged here, in his arms.
He juggled her to get the back door open, then hurtled down the back steps and into the yard. With reluctance, he let her slide from his arms and find her own feet.
“Is the house on fire?” she asked. “Should I call 911?”
“I want you to make note of the technique. First, you get to a safe place, then you call 911.”
“But the phone’s in there.”
“I have one,” he tapped his pocket. “But don’t worry. The fire’s out. I just didn’t want you breathing that black guck into your lungs.”
“My hero,” she said drily. “Rescuing me from the fire you started.”
“It wasn’t exactly a fire,” he said.
She lifted an eyebrow at him.
“A smolder. Prefire at best.”
“Ah.”
“The sander must be flawed. Sheesh. We could sue them. I’m going to call them right now and let them know the danger they have put us in.” He called the rental company. He started to blast them, but then stopped and listened.
He hung up the phone and hung his head.
“What?”
Kade did not want to admit this, but he choked it out. “My fault. You need to check the finish that was on the floor before you start sanding. Some of the finishes become highly flammable if you add friction.”
She was smiling at him as if it didn’t matter one bit. “You’ve always been like that,” she said. “Just charge ahead, to hell with the instructions.”
“And I’m often left cleaning up messes of my own making,” he said. “I’m going to go back into the house. You stay out here. Toxins.”
“It’s not as if I’m pregnant,” she said, and he heard the faint bitterness and the utter defeat in those words.
And there it was, the ultrasensitive topic between them. There was nothing to say. He had already said everything he knew how to say. If it was meant to be, it would be. Maybe if they relaxed. It didn’t change how he felt about her. He didn’t care about a baby. He cared about her.
So he had said everything he could say on that topic, most if it wrong.
And so now he said nothing at all. He just laid his hand on her cheek, and held it there for a moment, hoping she could feel what he had never been able to say.
JESSICA DID SEEM to be able to feel all those things he had never been able to say, because instead of slapping his hand away, she leaned into it, and then covered it with her own, and closed her eyes. She sighed, and then opened her eyes, and it seemed to him it was with reluctance she put his hand away from her.
And so they went into the house together and paused in the doorway.
“Wow, does that stink,” Jessica said. She went and grabbed a couple of dish towels off the oven handle. “We need these over our faces, not that I can tie them.”
Kade took the towels from her and tied one over the bottom half of her face and one over his.
“Is mine manly?” he asked. “Or did I get the one with the flowers on it?”
He saw her eyes smile from under her mask. Now Jessica was in an ugly dress and had her face covered up. But the laughter still twinkled around the edges of her eyes, and it made her so beautiful it threatened to take his breath away far more than the toxic cloud of odor in the room.
Firmly, Kade made himself turn from her, and aware he looked ridiculous, like an old-time bandito, surveyed the damage to the living room.
All that was left of the sander bag was ribbons of charred fabric. They were still smoking, so he went over and picked up the sander and threw it out the front door, possibly with a little more force than was necessary. It hit the concrete walkway and pieces shot off it and scattered.
“That gave me a manly sense of satisfaction,” Kade said, his voice muffled from under the dish towel. He turned back into the room.
The smile deepened around her eyes. How was this that they had narrowly averted disaster, and yet it felt good to be with her? It was as if a wall that had been erected between them was showing signs of stress, a brick or two falling out of it.
There was a large scorch mark on the floor where the sander had been, and a black ugly film shining with some oily substance coated the floor where he had thrown the water. The smoke had belched up and stained the ceiling.
“I think the worst damage is the smell,” Kade said. “It’s awful, like a potent chemical soup. I don’t think you’re going to be able to stay here until it airs out a bit.”
“It’s okay. I’ll get a hotel.”
“You’re probably going to have to call your insurance company. The smell is probably through the whole house. Your clothes have probably absorbed it.”
“Oh, boy,” she said, “two claims in one week. What do you suppose that will do to my premiums?” And then she
