I’m stunned by the complete mess I’ve made of my life. The realization comes to me right at the point where it looks like there may not be time to fix it. I can’t seem to stop crying, even as I try to think clearly.

I tug on the door lock but Shawn won’t let me out of the truck. That means when my cabin burns, I’ll have nothing left of Jon except the ring now on my right finger. My precious pup, Mr. Pete, was Jon’s last gift to me before our fight and the fire. Now he too is lost somewhere, with no one to protect him because of my selfishness.

It hurts more than when the pup was delivered to me, nearly six months after Jon’s death. He had purchased a puppy prior to its birth, but it died before it was weaned. So the surprise arrived unexpectedly from the next litter. Having that reminder of his thoughtfulness so long after he was gone was a stab to my heart. The loss is worse because now I love the pup for himself and his kooky character. Not just because Jon gave him to me.

“Just let me out,” I wail although I know it’s hopeless. “Please.”

“Sorry, Babe. No can do. I know you’re hurting but it’s more than my life’s worth to leave you behind in this.”

And to top it all, I’ve apparently fallen for a bastard who broke into my house, saw me naked before he even knew my name and had sex with me. In my studio, which is a tribute to Jon. Fucking unbelievable.

Now he probably thinks I’m crying because we did it, and I am, sort of. Because it was better than it ever was with Jon. I feel like a traitor. At the same time, I feel like I can move on, now. Jon would want me to be happy instead of pining for him for the rest of my life.

My thoughts circle back. The rest of my life won’t be very long if I don’t pull myself together. Shawn just said that. How long have I been crying and wasting time?

“Okay,” I say, my voice wobbling like a drunkard. I clear my throat, try to shake it all off. “My driveway is about the length of a football field. I can’t see which way your truck is pointed. If you drove in and didn’t go all the way around the circle in front, then you have to do that now.”

Shawn is looking at me curiously. At least I think so. Something about his eyes… yeah, the little pucker that would be a frown if it were any deeper.

“What?” I say.

“Have you decided to live?” he asks.

“What kind of question is that?” I snap. “Come on let’s move. I thought we’re in a hurry.”

He starts the truck, pulls forward a few feet, then stops. “Shit. I can’t remember if I’m pointed in or out.”

My mind flashes to the sex in the studio. I start to giggle, try hard to suppress it, and end up choking and coughing. I rip the oxygen mask off.

“Put that back on!” he orders.

“It’s okay. I can breathe, and I feel fine.”

He shakes his head, mutters something about ‘fucking stubborn woman’, and takes his own mask off.

“Good,” he says, “because I’ve been fucking dying to do this.”

He swoops over the console and grabs my face with both hands, lands a hard kiss on my mouth, which is open in surprise, and sweeps his tongue in. Suddenly I’m breathless again, and not from smoke.

The kiss is the most intense of my life. Perhaps we’ll put that down to the near death environment. Isn’t there something about survivor mentality? Where you can fall in love, or lust, while sharing a life-threatening situation. Shawn plunders my mouth, thrusting into me as hard as he did when he had me pinned on my studio table.

Once he has be panting, he sits back in his seat, cocky grin back on his face, and grips the wheel.

“Come on, baby, you’re a magic charm, which way do I go?”

I think for a minute. I was at the truck earlier. It was pointed down the driveway toward the road. I suddenly remember there are a couple of paintings stacked against the side. I’m about to reach for the door again and then change my mind.

Let it go.

Maybe it’s time for a fresh start.

“Go straight,” I tell him, clarity hitting me. “And when you come to the road, you’ll feel the change through the tires, turn right.”

He gives the truck gas, and starts down the driveway, going very slowly. I guess he’s being cautious to avoid hitting something, since visibility is nonexistent.

“Right is downhill, right?”

I sort out the meaning of his words. “Yeah.”

“That way may be blocked by smoke too thick to get through. Where does left go?”

“Further up, then around and down the other side.”

“Maybe we should go that way,” he says, almost to himself.

“There’s nothing that way for miles,” I object.

“Except fresh air. The fire’s on this side of the mountain.”

He has a good point. We can’t have traveled more than fifty feet at this speed, and I start to feel anxious. “Can’t we go any faster?”

He puts his foot on the brake and comes to a full stop. He turns to look at me with his mouth half open and his head tilted, an expression of confused frustration on his handsome features.

“Now you want to hurry?” he snarks. “Lady, you’re the one who refused to come with me in the first place. Fuck.”

I shrink in my seat. He’s right. I’ve put us in danger. I’ve killed my dog. I start to cry again.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” He snaps. “Stop crying, would you? I need your eyes, and your help.”

I take a deep breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

I gaze at his profile. God, he’s beautiful, even with the soot stains. I stare at his lips, wishing we weren’t running for our lives. I could go for another kiss like the last one.

He glances at me and does a double-take.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

When I don’t answer, he starts grinning again.

“What are you grinning about?” I counter.

“Honestly? I’m grinning because if we don’t make it out of here, at least I had sex today.”

“Bastard,” I say. But I’m grinning too. It comes out like a cute nickname.

“Come on, you liked it,” he says, smiling even more broadly.

“It was okay,” I say with a non-committal shrug I doubt would fool anyone.

I’m lying. It was the best sex ever and that’s saying a lot for a quickie. I find myself wishing we could do it again, but taking our time. Right now would be a very bad idea, right?

“We’re going to make it out, aren’t we?”

I leave out the part about if we do I’m going to reward him as soon as possible.

“Sure. But I want to talk more about your lackluster opinion of my skill in the sack,” he says.

“We weren’t in the sack,” I point out. This conversation is bordering on ridiculous, but it’s taking my mind off my regrets and our situation. Maybe that’s his intention. He’s smarter than I had him pegged for. “But if you get me out, I’ll give you another chance to prove your skill.”

His mouth drops, and he slams on the brakes. Damn, I wish I hadn’t said it. We’re never going to get to the road if he keeps stopping.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Sure, why not?” I’m trying to seem nonchalant about it, but he sees through me and starts grinning again.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he promises.

My eyes sting from the smoke, and my throat is raw, but my nipples tingle with anticipation. It occurs to me that I can ward off my fear by taking the banter even further.

“So, how skillful are you, really?” I purr. “Tell me what you’d do if you had all the time in the world.” I let my voice drop into a sultry tone.”

His lips twitch as he suppresses the grin. I wish he wouldn’t. I like it, like his confidence and even his bossiness. It gives me something to push back against, and the challenge excites me.

“First, I’ll get real comfortable on my bed... “

“Your bed?” I question.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Shit, now I’m thinking about the first time again. How my cabin is about to disappear forever. I push the grief away. Fresh start.

“Go on.”

“So, I’ll get real comfortable on my bed. I’ll be naked, of course, spread out in front of you like a Christmas cookie party.”

I giggle despite myself.

“What do you know about Christmas cookie parties?”

“Only that firemen get thrown them a lot,” he smirks.

Yeah? That’ll have to change.

“And you’ll be feasting your eyes on what I have for you,” he quips.

“What do you have?”

“Get real, baby. I know you haven’t blacked out what I have.”

He waits for me to speak again, but I’m visualizing it. And he’s right, I haven’t forgotten a single inch. That massive cock, the purple head slamming into me. I’m a little breathless when I say it.

“Your cock. I’ll be feasting my eyes on your cock.”

I’m staring at his lap, now, but the thick Nomex hides whatever’s going on there.

“So, you’re feasting your eyes on my cock, and I tell you to strip, slowly.”

The grin is back. And I’m getting seriously wet.

“Okay, I peel off my tank top. Now what?”

“Take it all off.”

“I’m unzipping my jeans, slowly. I push them off my hips and step out of them.”

“Panties, too.”

“I’m not wearing any. You tore them off me in the studio, remember?”

“Damn, woman! I’m trying to drive, here.”

Now I’m wearing the cocky grin.

“What’s next, stud? You’re showing me your skill. So far, I’m doing all the work.”

“Come over to the bed and get on top of me. Slowly now. Lift one leg and spread your thighs as you straddle me. But don’t touch my dick. Not yet. Give me those luscious tits first.”

If we keep this up, I’m going to wish I were wearing panties. Because I’m so wet, I’m going to look like I’ve had an accident. I’m very tempted to remove my top just to make this fantasy more real.