Chapter 1

Boone

The second I see the flames rising, all I can think about is her.

Margot St. James. Daughter of my father’s most hated business rival. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my damn life. And my best friend in the whole fucking world, whether my parents approve or not.

From the moment I first met Margot, I knew I wanted to make her my wife. But Margot’s parents don’t like me any more than my father likes her. So if friendship with her was what I had to settle for, I’d take it.

Yet as my firetruck pulls up to her burning sorority house, I realize I might not even have that for much longer.

Margot’s life is in danger. And there’s not a second to waste.

“Boone, wait!” I hear one of my buddies on the squad call after me as I hop out of the truck and start sprinting for the Omega house’s front door.

The university’s volunteer firefighters are just dumb college kids with hero complexes, and we know it.

My brothers on the squad mean the world to me. We can always count on each other to save the guy that’s making the most dangerous calls for himself, taking the biggest risks.

But as I search the gathered crowd of Omega sorority sisters for Margot’s face and come up empty, I know that nothing’s going to stop me from running into that inferno and getting her out alive.

It didn’t even cross my mind that Margot might not be inside. That maybe she’s studying late at the library or—God forbid—maybe she’s staying the night with some asshole frat boy who won’t appreciate her the way I do.

Sometimes when you know, you just know.

There’s something deep in my most basic instinct—some caveman part of my lizard brain—which senses that the love of my life, my soulmate is in danger. So I don’t even hesitate.

I shoulder through the burning red front door of the house and crash my way in.

I know where Margot’s room is. It’s the same place I always take her when we’re out at a party and she gets so tired. She usually nods off before she even has a chance to finish a beer.

I’ve carried her up these very stairs a dozen times this year alone. I know the length of the hall to her room, just as well as I know the way home after a long shift at the firehouse.

The fact that there are half a dozen burning wooden beams that block Margot’s room doesn’t make a lick of difference. I flip my face mask down, and heft one after another to the side, like they’re no more than fucking toothpicks.

But, with each one I move out of my path, I have to accept the reality of the situation. The roof is already burning. The support beams are already dropping from overhead.

This house is a deathtrap, and the love of my life is still inside.

As I move the last beam, I try not to let the thought cross my mind—what if I’m too late? It’s not an option. Either I save Margot St. James tonight, or I die trying.

My life for hers…That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

The knob on Margot’s bedroom door looks red hot—opening it could cause a backdraft that would make the whole house explode like a powder keg.

I have to be smart. Times like this, the brain can’t process, so the training kicks in.

I need to vent the smoke before I can complete this search and rescue. Luckily, I’m easily six foot four. Four years on the college football team have left my arms thick and powerful with muscle. With my axe in hand, I brutally chop a hole where the wall meets the ceiling and watch as thick, black smoke pours out like rich, bold dark roast in a coffee cup.

Once the room is vented, I charge through the door without a single thought about what might be on the other side…except for her.

My eyes find her immediately. She’s passed out on her bed wearing nothing but my football jersey, surrounded by flames. Even like this, with mortal danger all around her, there’s no denying it—Margot is the most beautiful woman in the entire fucking world.

It only makes my need to save her all the more urgent.

Those long, bare legs. That beautiful blonde hair. The thick curtains of her eyelashes and the little smile that plays on her lips while she sleeps soundly…

She’s too good. Too perfect. Too pure.

Too precious for me to lose.

I brave the flames. I can feel them licking my calves, even through my fire pants. The entire room is hazy with heat and smoke, which makes it hard to breathe, let alone think.

So I don’t think.

I just do.

I scoop Margot up in my arms, careful not to hurt her.

I protect her with my body as I carry her— like a groom carries his bride—over the flames.

In the days that follow, I know I’ll think about what might have happened if I had gotten there just a few seconds later. Just a few seconds—that’s all it would have taken.

I’ll think about what could have happened if I hadn’t been on shift tonight, or if I’d never met Margot to begin with.

But, in the moment, there’s no time to think of these scenarios.

There’s barely even time to catch my breath.

The moment that I stumble back out of Omega house’s front door, the roof caves in. The entire fucking thing deflates like a failed soufflé.

If I had hesitated for just a second… it would have been my life for hers . But, no. I can’t think of that.

I’ve had a good life. I wasted my teenage years being the party boy heir to the Masters’ family fortune. I spent four years of college pounding the football field and the books—usually in that order.

Hell, earlier today I even walked across the stage at graduation. And I didn’t miss the look in my father’s eyes when Margot came over to kiss me on the cheek in congratulations.

I would have given it all up in an instant if it had meant the beautiful woman here in my arms would live.

“Oxygen!” I call out, lumbering towards an ambulance. Its flashing lights turn Margot’s pale face bright red and blue as we approach.

A medic places an oxygen mask over Margot’s mouth and nose as I drop to the pavement, still cradling her in my arms.

It’s then that an awful thought hits me: what if I was too late?

But before I can fall into a cycle of guilt that would have sent me spiraling out of control, Margot’s thick, dark lashes flutter and the corner of her lips twitch.

Her eyes open, looking for something to figure out where she was.

They meet mine and I fall in love with her all over again.

Happens every fucking time.

“Boone?” she rasps, knitting her brows together in confusion.

“Hey,” I say, flipping my helmet off, and cradling her cheek in my hand. “Hey, you. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

She moves against my glove, nuzzling my palm instinctively. It leaves streaks of soot against the perfect paleness of her cheekbone.

“What happened, Boone?”

“Nothing you need to worry about now.”

The medic offers me a blanket, and I wrap it around her as the night sky opens up to make way for soft rain. I position my body over hers, shielding her from the downpour until I’m soaked.

I think it’s then that I finally realize—no matter what happens or where our futures lead, Margot St. James will always be the woman for me.

Whether she’ll have me or not.

Even if it takes an entire lifetime…I can wait.