Santa Assignment

I hope like hell I never see your face again.

Because those words Brayden had said to her long ago just wouldn’t go away, because they started to pound in her head like war drums, Ashley stood to give herself some breathing room.

“Take some time,” he offered when she started to pace. “Think about it.”

Ashley managed a nod. Somehow. Even though it seemed as if every muscle in her neck was knotted and stiff.

Part of her desperately wanted to jump at the chance to help her nephew. And another part of her just plain resented Brayden for bringing all of this to her.

But this wasn’t just about Colton. Nor was it just about Brayden and her.

It was also about a baby.

A baby who could potentially save a child’s life and complicate everything else. Because a baby was permanent. A bond. And it would mean bonding with a man who had trouble even looking her in the eye for more than a couple of seconds.

A man who couldn’t forgive her.

A man who was a reminder that she couldn’t forgive herself.

How could she possibly conceive a child under those circumstances?

Yet, how could she risk losing her nephew?

Pacing, repeating each of those arguments to herself, Ashley caught a glimpse of Brayden in the mirror on the antique sideboard on the other side of the table. Still stoic. Still soldier stiff.

Except for his eyes.

And in that glance Ashley realized that Brayden had the same questions, the same concerns, the same fears as she did.

“You wouldn’t have to give up your life,” he added. “But I know it’d change everything.”

Yes. It would. Heck, it had already changed everything. The life she’d so carefully put together, the sanity she’d found, hadn’t been shattered exactly, but it was no longer intact, either.

“I’ll have think about it,” Ashley assured him. But she couldn’t do that with Brayden in the room. She needed time. Alone.

Mercy, where had all the air gone?

Because she was sure she was on the verge of tears, and because there was no way she wanted Brayden to see her cry, she had to get out of there.

“I’ll call you,” she said, making sure her tone indicated this conversation was on hold.

And she was obviously successful in getting that point across because Brayden didn’t say anything, and he didn’t follow her. Ashley started toward her room.

Just as she detected the smell.

Was it smoke?

Ashley turned back around. So did he. He lifted his head slightly. And it was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he’d recently had a cigarette. But it was an unnecessary question. Because Brayden didn’t smoke, and besides the smell wasn’t in the living room.

She spun toward the hall just off the back of the kitchen and saw her bedroom door.

And the thick black smoke oozing from beneath it.

Chapter Two

Brayden didn’t waste any time.

The moment he smelled the smoke, he pushed past Ashley and raced through the kitchen, frantically searching. No smoke there, and no obvious source of fire.

“It’s coming from my bedroom,” Ashley informed him, pointing toward the hall.

She started ahead of him, but again, he moved around her and hurried to the room she’d pointed out. He saw the smoke drifting along the floor. And worse. Rising. It wouldn’t be long before it made its way through the entire house.

He touched his palm to the door.

It wasn’t hot. Thank God.

The old-fashioned faceted-glass doorknob was cool, as well. So, he opened it. Cautiously. Peering around the corner. When he was satisfied that he wasn’t about to face a full-scale blaze, he gave the door a shove with his shoulder.

No backdraft or wall of fire.

That was the good news. But the bad news was there were foot-high orange-red flames on the dresser tucked into the corner, and the flames weren’t staying put, either. They were quickly eating their way toward the draping lace curtains on a nearby window.

“Grab a fire extinguisher or some water,” he yelled back to Ashley. “And call the fire department.”

Sheltering his face from the blaze, he latched onto the curtains and ripped them down from the thick brass rod. Best not to give the fire any more fuel. It already had enough with what was left of the array of dried flowers, scented candles and pictures on the dresser.

Brayden stripped a quilt from the bed and beat down the flames. No easy task. Some scattered. There were sparks and sputters. And the black coiling smoke. It was suffocating, but he choked back a cough and kept working.

He soon realized just how lucky they’d been. It could have been worse. Much worse. If the fire had gotten just a few more minutes of a head start, they would have had an inferno on their hands, and the whole place might have gone up in flames.

“I have the extinguisher,” he heard her say.

She began to spray the white foam on the small smoldering spots that had ignited around the base of the dresser and the rug on the side of the bed. Brayden continued to put out the heart of the blaze by pounding it with the quilt.

The picture frames shattered against the wall. The melting candles sputtered. He stomped on the partially burned dried flowers that he raked to the floor.

One of the embers from the dried flowers flew out and landed on his pant leg. He reached down to brush it off, just as one of the flames erupted back into a blaze. The spark singed his hand, and he quickly drew it back, trying to maneuver the quilt so he could smother the fire.

“Brayden!” Ashley called out. From the alarm in her voice, she must have noticed his clothes on fire. She turned the extinguisher in his direction and hosed him down.

It worked.

But Brayden didn’t take the time to thank her. He returned to the tiny embers still left around the dresser and kept battling them until finally all that was left was the smoke and the damage. Minor damage at that. Yes, indeed, they’d been lucky.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

He glanced down at the small red mark on his left hand. There’d be a blister but no real damage. “I’m fine.”