Ablaze assumes control over her feelings after a jerky little shiver. "They do, they do. The seraphim have flaming swords sometimes. Sometimes they're fully engulfed. I'm wondering if it's an early depiction of pyrokinesis."
Here she goes with pyrokinesis again, like a dog with the bone. Miss, the beings who could ignite fire with their minds or angels don't need trip-wires. It's the human sinners who do.
He can't say it, though, since it's not a general public knowledge, so he just scoffs. "You really believe in this nonsense, don't you?"
Jitters give way to a smile so patient that it gives her pretty face an angelic cast. "The world is bigger than Milwaukee, Harris. It has wonders to behold."
"Here's a tip on fire prevention for you," he says gravely. "People burn. They're not great at doing it, though, because of fatty tissues."
Blood drains from her cheeks. Terror reflects in her eyes, but this time it's not sudden. It's pensive. For a second, Harris thinks she'll excuse herself to dash to the bathroom, but she swallows hard and stands on her feet.
Sam films the tense pause stretching between them. Gee, he hopes it's not a life stream, or people would drop off like flies. But what's boring for viewers is intense when one is on the inside of it. The pressure of the camera builds until Harris snaps. His explanation comes out at a bullet-train speed, garbled. "What is a danger for ignition are oily rags, piles of hot laundry, hay bales, large compost heaps... things like that. It's not a laughing matter."
"Thank you for this helpful tip, firefighter Sarkisian," Ablaze fights to speak breezily—and succeeds by the time she reaches his name. All of its syllables are very, very airy. "I always sort my laundry right away."
A vision of the black lace hugging her buttocks swims up in his mind. Her fingers are folding the thong, a crimson nail running along the inner part.... He pinches the bridge of his nose in dismay. It's such an inopportune moment to work on a boner!
And, dammit, people should take self-ignition seriously!
"It... it happens more often than you think. In your home, in your garage, on your acreage..."
The hard-won blaze attitude melts off of her. "I do, I swear!" Her lips pucker up, tremble in a maddening, tempting way.
For a guy who's just chided her for being a ditz, Harris' drifts even further into fantasies all too readily. He's a hypocrite... he shifts his feet in place, fighting the mental porn.
Luckily, her attention is on the camera, so she doesn't spit her discomfort. She turns to face Sam. "And, guys! Guys, I'll throw in some links for you about self-combustion."
Another shiver undulates her shoulders, then her long, supple waistline. It's like she can't move just one part of her body. It's all or none... Her voice pitches to a tragic crescendo. "Don't let fire destroy your life!"
The mood swing is so sudden and his arousal in response to the high notes is so abrupt, Harris feels dizzy.
Her next words come to him as if from a distance, despite her almond-scented proximity. "How time flies!"
It does... the clock is at 5 P.M. The end of a workday for people with office jobs. Hence, the end of his day.
"Thank you again, Harris. See you tomorrow."
He mumbles his goodbyes and she flies out of the parking lot like a sparrow chased by a hawk. Somewhere along the sidewalk is her car. If he has to guess, it's the Tesla by the corner.
He made her uncomfortable, duh! Well, she made him uncomfortable too, so they're even.
Sam comes to shake hands. "A beer, mate?" He can't sound more Australian than that to Harris' ears.
YOU ARE READING
Ablaze
Mystery / Thriller||Love Triangle between a Firefighter, an Arsonist and an Heiress ♡|| Deeply wounded by his mother's betrayal, Harris, a Milwaukee firefighter, doesn't accept human failings, including his own. That's until he saves a redhead from a burning hotel...
