Read Online Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders by Gina Watson - Free Book Online
Authors: Gina Watson
Tags: Fiction, General, Erótica, Family & Relationships, Romance, Contemporary, Sagas, Love & Romance, Collections & Anthologies
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Eve had thought that was strange since the storm had ended, but with that information in her head, she wondered what that might mean for her and Ruth.
She stood to get her cellphone. “I’m going to see if I can reach anyone.”
She dialed 911. The circuits were busy or down—whatever the situation, the call didn’t go through. Sheer desperation had her dialing Don Howard from the landline. The result was the same. She knew the neighborhood had evacuated, but she wondered if anyone had ignored the evacuation order and if she should leave Ruth and go in search of help. She thought about the large brusque fireman who’d come earlier. She wondered if he’d even give them another thought. Closing her eyes, she saw him standing before her, conflicted, eyes churning like the storm. She inhaled deep and slow and decided she would at least wait until daybreak before going in search of help so that Ruth wouldn’t be left alone in the dark.
***
6
A s more of the storm made landfall, conditions worsened. The mayor called off all rescues for the time being. The firefighters and paramedics were hunkered down in the firehouse to ride out the storm.
Clay couldn’t stop thinking of the old woman and the girl.
She’d flinched when he’d shifted his weight and crossed his arms—he knew she had. Had she been afraid of him? The notion bothered him. He wouldn’t hurt a woman—God, he was in the business of rescuing people.
It had been hard for him to ignore her beauty. Hers wasn’t the kind of pretty one got to see every day. She had long, yellow-blond glossy curls, pewter-gray eyes, and the kind of mouth that drove him crazy. Her lips were puffy clouds—light pink clouds—that had never seemed to meet but stayed parted to reveal the white teeth within her mouth. She had a little button nose and God, he hadn’t wanted to blatantly stare at her chest, but it was huge and her breasts naturally shaped—they’d be soft and pliable. When she’d cleared her throat at him, Clay thought he’d been caught red-handed, but he’d lucked out. Still, she should change her wardrobe choices if she didn’t want to attract stares. He didn’t think she’d been wearing a bra but was comfortable in a soft and very thin white tank top with another loose top over it. The knit shorts she wore were, in his opinion, too short. Of course, she’d been inside, not flaunting herself, but still…
And she’d been brazenly checking him out too. Given her gasp, she seemed to have liked what she saw. Clay was used to being scoped, but he’d been shocked that she would rather check him out than take care of her sick mother. Of course, the woman wasn’t her mother and now that Clay thought about it, she seemed no more than twenty-five while the woman was clearly in her eighties. He’d been wrong about the girl. She’d sacrificed her needs and safety to stay with her infirm neighbor. That wasn’t something just anybody would do. Hell, it wasn’t anything even a handful of people would do. She’d even remained brave and chose to stay behind when he’d related the dire stats. She’d demonstrated more courage than most of the men he worked with.
Reports coming in over the radio were not good—bayou and street flooding were delaying rescues. One report mentioned Simms Bayou and how it had already passed the record set for the last hurricane. Clay’s chest tightened; at those levels, some houses would be under water. He’d seen it so many times before, families driven higher and higher until they were forced to await recuse on the roofs of their homes. Many times the rescue never came. He grunted when he thought of the yellow-haired beauty with the expressive gray eyes and Mrs. Howard making their way to the roof.
He knew they’d only endured the first half of the storm, the better half. The worst was yet to come.
He gathered his gear. He’d take their biggest, highest truck. Maybe he could at least get the girl. Or he could get stuck
She stood to get her cellphone. “I’m going to see if I can reach anyone.”
She dialed 911. The circuits were busy or down—whatever the situation, the call didn’t go through. Sheer desperation had her dialing Don Howard from the landline. The result was the same. She knew the neighborhood had evacuated, but she wondered if anyone had ignored the evacuation order and if she should leave Ruth and go in search of help. She thought about the large brusque fireman who’d come earlier. She wondered if he’d even give them another thought. Closing her eyes, she saw him standing before her, conflicted, eyes churning like the storm. She inhaled deep and slow and decided she would at least wait until daybreak before going in search of help so that Ruth wouldn’t be left alone in the dark.
***
6
A s more of the storm made landfall, conditions worsened. The mayor called off all rescues for the time being. The firefighters and paramedics were hunkered down in the firehouse to ride out the storm.
Clay couldn’t stop thinking of the old woman and the girl.
She’d flinched when he’d shifted his weight and crossed his arms—he knew she had. Had she been afraid of him? The notion bothered him. He wouldn’t hurt a woman—God, he was in the business of rescuing people.
It had been hard for him to ignore her beauty. Hers wasn’t the kind of pretty one got to see every day. She had long, yellow-blond glossy curls, pewter-gray eyes, and the kind of mouth that drove him crazy. Her lips were puffy clouds—light pink clouds—that had never seemed to meet but stayed parted to reveal the white teeth within her mouth. She had a little button nose and God, he hadn’t wanted to blatantly stare at her chest, but it was huge and her breasts naturally shaped—they’d be soft and pliable. When she’d cleared her throat at him, Clay thought he’d been caught red-handed, but he’d lucked out. Still, she should change her wardrobe choices if she didn’t want to attract stares. He didn’t think she’d been wearing a bra but was comfortable in a soft and very thin white tank top with another loose top over it. The knit shorts she wore were, in his opinion, too short. Of course, she’d been inside, not flaunting herself, but still…
And she’d been brazenly checking him out too. Given her gasp, she seemed to have liked what she saw. Clay was used to being scoped, but he’d been shocked that she would rather check him out than take care of her sick mother. Of course, the woman wasn’t her mother and now that Clay thought about it, she seemed no more than twenty-five while the woman was clearly in her eighties. He’d been wrong about the girl. She’d sacrificed her needs and safety to stay with her infirm neighbor. That wasn’t something just anybody would do. Hell, it wasn’t anything even a handful of people would do. She’d even remained brave and chose to stay behind when he’d related the dire stats. She’d demonstrated more courage than most of the men he worked with.
Reports coming in over the radio were not good—bayou and street flooding were delaying rescues. One report mentioned Simms Bayou and how it had already passed the record set for the last hurricane. Clay’s chest tightened; at those levels, some houses would be under water. He’d seen it so many times before, families driven higher and higher until they were forced to await recuse on the roofs of their homes. Many times the rescue never came. He grunted when he thought of the yellow-haired beauty with the expressive gray eyes and Mrs. Howard making their way to the roof.
He knew they’d only endured the first half of the storm, the better half. The worst was yet to come.
He gathered his gear. He’d take their biggest, highest truck. Maybe he could at least get the girl. Or he could get stuck
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