Read Online Her Firefighter SEAL by Anne Marsh - Free Book Online Page B

did. On the other hand, she’d flipped the boat in her enthusiasm. The lake was cold enough to mitigate the physical evidence of what that did for him, even if he couldn’t stop replaying the kiss in his mind.
    By the time he beached the boat and waded out, Abbie had a fire going in the fire pit, bless her. She’d spread her wet clothes out over the bushes in the sunshine. It was June. It was California. She actually had a decent chance of drip-drying in the next forty minutes or so. Her laundry skills weren’t the issue. No, the problem was his eyes, because they went straight to her panties. Her panties were teeny tiny, a see-through scrap of pink nylon and mesh.
    Pretty.
    Sexy.
    Hers. It wouldn’t have mattered if she wore granny panties. She’d been wearing them minutes ago. He was in so much trouble here, because his next thought was to wonder what she was wearing now. If he was a lucky man (and he was fairly certain he’d used up all his luck escaping his Afghani captors), she was naked beneath his sweatpants.
    “You have a french press.” She sighed happily, unaware of his panties dilemma.
    Yeah. He liked his coffee, and apparently she did too. He bit back a smile as she grabbed for the pot and his second cup.
    “I’m going to change,” he said, his voice sounding gruff even to his own ears.
    “Go for it,” she agreed, her eyes moving over him.
    Permission granted. Hiding his grin, he grabbed the last set of spare clothes from the truck bed and then changed on the other side of the truck. They were alone out here, and he didn’t mind if she snuck a peek.  He did take advantage of the privacy to stretch his knee. The damned thing not only looked like a field where a meteor had cratered, jagged scars running up and down both side of the kneecap, but it ached. Swimming in cold water was not, apparently, on his knee’s list of acceptable activities. It was high maintenance and voting strongly in favor of its next swim taking place in a heated Jacuzzi or a tropical lagoon. His knee would have to suck it up and get with the program.
    He pulled on an ancient pair of jeans and a fire department T-shirt. Leaving the sweatshirt unzipped, he shoved his feet into an old pair of running shoes, added his clothes to the bush, grabbed the fish, and got started on the cleaning.
    Abbie wandered over and watched him work. “We’re eating now?”
    “Unless you prefer sushi, we’re eating in about twenty minutes.” He dropped the fish into a frying pan, added a little oil, and headed for the fire. She wasn’t out here with Emeril, so hopefully she liked fried fish.
    “I drowned the muffins.” She gazed wistfully at the center of the lake.
    Yeah. She had.
    “We could have dessert first,” he suggested. “I’m a Boy Scout and I brought two colors. You only drowned half the food.”
    She grinned at him. “You’d earn major bonus points with the pregnant woman.”
    See, that was the part he needed to remember. She was pregnant. And widowed. He looked at her though, and he saw Abbie. He’d brought s’more fixings with him, along with baked beans and a macaroni salad. Not a green vegetable in sight, but who wanted to barbecue fresh-caught fish and crunch leaves at the same time?
    He fished the fixings out and spread them on top of the cooler in order. When he turned around, she’d already found two sticks, so even if they weren’t on the same page kissing-wise, they agreed about the dessert first thing. Abbie stabbed her first marshmallow with a stick and shoved it into the flames, turning it into a black, blistering ball of goo. He winced.
    “That’s not how you roast a marshmallow.” His own was slowly turning an even shade of gold-brown. After thirty seconds on the southern side, he rotated it.
    She slapped her desecrated marshmallow onto a graham cracker, and eyed his. “If I happened to jostle your elbow and knock your marshmallow into the flames, would there be retaliation?”
    He nodded solemnly.