I watched Dominic Fieri walk back to the fire truck with his bright yellow helmet tucked under his arm. He was a big guy, tall (6’2?), broad-shouldered, with a cheesy smile. Exactly what you imagined a sexy-as-sin firefighter to look like. It was adorable how worried he was over his son. He’d checked every inch of Nate’s skin for bruises and scratches, as if a little scrape would’ve required a trip to the ER.

Yes, it was unfortunate that something like this would happen on the first day of school. But since no one was hurt, and the fire hadn’t caused too much damage, I wasn’t too worried.

I was new to Dallas, and hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Principal McCormack since I moved here. I also hadn’t dated or slept with anyone since I started my practicum two years ago. Ergo, I was in the midst of the longest dry spell ever and Dominic Fieri’s sexy husky voice gave me all kinds of goosebumps. I could’ve dated while I was in school, but I was just so focused on work. I wanted to do all the assignments perfectly to stay at the top of the class. I wanted to get my first full-time contract ASAP to start off my career with a bang. While most of the other twenty-six-year-olds in my class were still getting shitty, on-call substitute placements, I had already landed my first full-time placement at Walnut Hill.

I’d prepped all summer for this day. And as luck would have it, somebody set the kitchen on fire around lunchtime. Before we’d even done our first official fire drill. Of course the kids were confused, a few even panicked. They were six-year-olds who hated loud noises and all twenty-nine pairs of eyes immediately turned to me for direction. The old me might’ve panicked in a situation like this. I wasn’t even sure I knew where the fire exits were. But a fire was no joke. So I told them all to line up, single file, and hold on to each other’s hands. Once I made sure the hallway was clear and relatively smoke-free, I led the kids out the fire exit near the library. I’d almost been home free when one of the smaller kids, Nathan, began hyperventilating and wheezing. I remembered reading something about him having asthma. What a crappy time to have an attack. Luckily, he had his inhaler in his backpack. Unfortunately, his backpack was back inside the classroom. I couldn’t risk bringing all the kids back down the long hallway just to find Nate’s inhaler. So I quickly ushered the rest of the kids downstairs and out onto the field first. I asked the grade two teacher, Ms. Langford, to help me look after them while I went back for the inhaler. She tried to stop me, saying it was too dangerous, and that the paramedics would be there shortly to help the boy. But I estimated that the paramedics were still at least seven or eight minutes out. Given that I used to run track and field and do marathons twice a year, I figured I could be in and out in under three minutes. Assuming I could even find the damn thing.

So I made a snap decision. One that was probably foolish, but at least I made my choice. I bolted back into the school through the front doors, dove for my classroom and scrambled around looking for Nate’s backpack. The hallways had filled up with grey smoke, and I coughed. My eyes stung, as if I’d been pepper-sprayed. I’d been stupid to come back inside. Visibility was already getting worse in the hallways, and I had no means of protecting my lungs from the smoke damage.

Nate had been wearing a CARS backpack. A tiny little thing with one strap longer than the other. At the end of the row of cubby holes, I finally found the small pack and unzipped it. Success. Grabbing the inhaler, I launched out the door like a rocket and didn’t even inhale again until I was outside. I thrust the inhaler into Nate’s arms, and the panicky boy took a hard pull.

He was going to be all right.

I sucked in a few hard, deep breaths, filling my lungs with much-needed fresh air. As oxygen re-entered my bloodstream, I felt my body functions normalize. Straightening up again, I stretched my arms and legs and gave myself a mental pat on the back.

Within moments, Nate’s face became softer and he lowered his inhaler. “Thank you Ms. Williams. You were so brave.” He looked at me with round, worshipful eyes.

“Just doing my job,” I replied. I checked my bright pink watch, the one my little cousin gave me for my birthday two weeks ago. I’d made it out in approximately two minutes, fifty-eight seconds. A definite win.

* * *

Despite the rough start to our day, the kids and I ended on a high note. I managed to learn most of their names, which impressed quite a few of them. I’d always had a great memory, especially for names. The key was mnemonics. Like ‘Nervous Nate’, because he always seemed a little jumpy when I came around, and he didn’t seem very sociable in group activities. Or Messy Molly, the girl who loved spreading paint all over her arms and watching it dry on her skin. Then there was Vivacious Vivan, a pony-tail-clad blonde who’d just lost her front teeth and couldn’t stop smiling.

After the final school bell rang, my students flew into the arms of their parents and guardians, who were both worried and relieved that the fire hadn’t traumatized them. I could tell right away a few of them would worry about the general safety of Walnut Hill, and perhaps go as far as to file a complaint or even switch schools. I reassured the parents that safety was of paramount importance at this school, and that despite the terrible accident, no one was harmed. They seemed skeptical anyway.

Amidst the crowd, I saw a familiar face.

“Dominic,” I greeted, surprised to see him so soon. “Off work already?”

“Hey. No, I uh, left early. Asked for a day off so I could spend some time with my son.”

“Nate’s fine. He had me worried for a little bit, but he seems better now,” I reported.

“Did he have an asthma attack?”

I nodded. “But we got his inhaler, and after that, he was right as rain again.”

Nate ran up to his father and hugged him tight, squeezing Dominic’s biceps so hard his entire little body shook. It was then that I noticed Dominic’s built frame. Out of his firefighter gear and now wearing a t-shirt and jeans, I couldn’t help but notice how huge his biceps were, and how powerful-looking his entire stature seemed. His brown hair was cropped close to the scalp, and carved around his ears. He had romantic gray-green eyes and straight teeth. A jaw that looked sharp enough to cut diamonds. He was a swoon-worthy specimen of the opposite sex who would definitely look good posing shirtless for one of those firemen calendars.

I snapped out of my daydream when I realized Dominic was saying something to me.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Because I was fantasizing about you naked. My cheeks flamed, my body betraying my mind.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping my son out.”

“It’s my job to look after my students,” I said proudly, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. “But you’re welcome.”

“Nate says you went back for his inhaler. That wasn’t in your job description. And as a firefighter, I have to warn you against doing something like that in the future. You could’ve gotten hurt.” Was that…worry spreading all over his face? I was reading too much into this situation. He was a firefighter: he cared about everyone. It was in his blood.

“Yes, sir,” I said playfully. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

How old was Nate’s dad? I wondered. Thirty-six? Forty? He didn’t look too old, but the wrinkles that framed his mouth and lined his forehead told me he’d seen a lot more stress than I had. And that probably meant more years, too. Still, none of those lines made him any less of a smoking hot daddy. A smoking hot, off-limits daddy, I reminded myself.

As if it was an afterthought, but I could tell it wasn’t, Dominic suggested, “If it isn’t too weird, I’d like to thank you properly by taking you out to dinner. Nothing fancy. And of course Nate will be there, too.”

I knew he added that last bit to assure me the dinner was not a date. I looked behind him to see if anyone else had overheard our conversations. I didn’t see anyone paying attention though. They were all too concerned with the wellbeing of their own children.

So I nodded. “It’s a non-date.”

“How’s tomorrow at six sound?”

“You like to eat early, huh?”

“Not usually, but Nate’s bedtime is at nine, and his tub and story time routine starts at eight so…”

“Six is perfect.”

Dominic let out a small sigh of relief, as if he was worried I’d say no. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Where are we going? Should I meet you there?”

“Oh. Right. It’s um, The Burger Shack on 55th.”

“Got it.” I was glad he hadn’t suggested picking me up from my house. That would’ve made it too date-like, and the last thing I wanted was for this to turn into a date. It wasn’t against the law or anything to date a kid’s parent, but it was severely frowned upon. For good reason, too. Principal McCormack had told me that five years back, he’d caught one of the grade three teachers screwing a kid’s dad in the janitor’s closet. Of course he didn’t want to cause a scandal, so he didn’t make it public, but he did fire her later for terrible job performance. And by that, he meant he’d caught her trying to sell weed to a few twelve-year-olds in the school parking lot. The teacher was later arrested and sent to prison.

Of course I wasn’t that kind of person. I mean, who did that? Sell drugs on school property? To kids? Disgusting.

But, long story short, that entire debacle made Principal McCormack extra vigilant about keeping parent-teacher relations platonic. And since I’d been dreaming about this placement for years now, and I had to fight tooth and nail to get it, I wouldn’t risk my job for anything. Not even a sexy firefighter stud whose presence made me a little faint, a little breathless and a little screwed.