A Sheltering Love. Terri Reed

laundry room she found the puppy huddled in a corner, its little body shaking.

      “Here, boy.” Claire scooped the pup up and cuddled him close.

      Claire crawled toward the front of the house while holding Nick in one hand. She breathed in. Coughed. Her lungs burned. She caught her hand on the leg of a chair and went down on her elbow, her knees scraping on the floor. Nick yelped as she tried to catch herself with the hand that held him.

      The smoke became dense, more intense. The front door seemed a mile away. Somewhere in the closet under the stairs was a fire extinguisher. She’d get Nick out, come back for the extinguisher and put out the fire.

      She crawled forward again, laboring to breathe. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The puppy whimpered.

      “It’ll be okay, Nick. Dear Lord, please let us be okay.”

      She coughed, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Her stomach rolled. She paused, waiting for the dizziness to pass. It didn’t. She forced herself to continue on despite the effects of the smoke. Her survival instinct pushed her, urged her to keep crawling away from the source of the smoke.

      Her wrist gave out, forcing her weight down hard on her elbow, sending pain up her arm. Her head fell forward to smack against the hardwood floor. Spots of light popped in front of her eyes.

      She couldn’t stop, she had to keep going.

      Where was the man in black leather when she needed him?

      Flames shot from the back of the house.

      Nick’s heart slammed against his ribs as he stopped his bike at the bottom of the cement stairs leading to the front door. He set the kickstand and jumped off his bike. He rushed up the porch steps and burst through the front door.

      Smoke billowed around him, stinging his eyes. His gaze zeroed in on Blondie crawling toward the door with the puppy clutched to her chest with one hand, while she balanced with the other hand.

      She lifted her head, her eyes wide. The puppy squirmed out of her grasp and ran past Nick’s legs and down the steps.

      Nick scooped up Blondie and carried her to the front yard where he gently laid her down on the grass. She opened her mouth to say something but coughed instead. He rolled her to her side as she spit out black soot between taking in gulps of air.

      Relief surged through Nick. He’d finally given in to the urgent, nagging feeling that he should turn back. And a good thing, too. He patted her shoulder, offering her comfort as his heartbeat began to slow.

      “You came back,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

      “Yeah,” he acknowledged.

      “The puppy?” she rasped, her eyes widening as she sat up and was momentarily gripped with another bout of coughing.

      “He ran out. I’m sure he’s fine.”

      She raised her gaze to her home. “My building.”

      The disappointment and hurt in her voice burned in his gut. This shouldn’t have happened. He knew who was to blame. His fingers curled into a fist. He’d make sure they paid.

      Seeing that the blonde was out of danger, he rose. He refused to consider why he felt the need to help her, why her distress tightened a knot in his chest. “I’ll see what I can do.”

      He left her on the grass and went around to the back of the building where the smoke seemed to originate. Two garbage cans were on fire directly below an open window as well as the wooden slats of the back porch.

      Pillows of black smoke rolled into the kitchen. The flames were licking at the back door and the ceiling of the porch, curling the gray paint and blackening the wood, which crackled and snapped.

      Nick skirted around the fire to where a garden hose lay rolled on the ground. The faucet turned easily and water sprayed out. He aimed the spray on the door and porch since that would be where the damage would be most devastating.

      Off in the distance the wail of a siren drew close, bringing hope of help. Within minutes firemen bustled about, waving off Nick and his efforts. He dropped the hose and headed back toward where he’d left Blondie.

      He spotted her as he came around the corner and his chest tightened more. Grass clung to her hair, streaks of soot marred her creamy complexion and smeared her white blouse and jeans.

      Two paramedics were tending to her. Or rather, trying to. She brushed away their attempts to get her into the ambulance. Nick stepped over a fire hose as he approached.

      “No, I can’t leave,” she said as she dodged one EMT and snagged the arm of a passing fireman. “Do you know how much damage has been done?” Her voice rasped with the effects of the smoke. A purple goose egg formed on her forehead.

      “Not yet, ma’am.”

      She dropped her hand away and the fireman continued on, giving Nick a nod as they passed each other.

      The worried lines framing her mouth deepened and her eyes were troubled as she turned to face Nick. She closed the distance between them in a rush of steps. “Is everything ruined?”

      The anxiety in her voice tore at his heart. He didn’t want to care. He couldn’t. “Hard to tell. The fire department will let you know. You need to go with the paramedics and let them check you out.” He took her elbow and steered her back toward the ambulance.

      “I need to find the puppy!” She doubled over, coughing.

      He held fast as she tried to pull away from his hold on her elbow. “What you need to do is let them take care of you.”

      “But who’s going to take care of things here?” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “I have to be here.”

      “Is there someone, a friend, a family member, you could call who could come?”

      Two little lines appeared between her dark blond brows. “This place is my responsibility.”

      Was she a control freak or did she really not have anyone she trusted to help? What did it matter to him, anyway?

      But it did matter. This happened because of him. His interference. He felt responsible for her. For her situation.

      “I’ll tell you what. I’ll stay—make sure the police and the firemen have everything they need—while you go with the paramedics.”

      “You’ll stay?” Big tears filled her eyes. She rapidly blinked them away.

      That knot twisted another notch, warning him he was getting too involved. But guilt was a stronger motivator than self-preservation. He owed her a debt because he’d brought this on her.

      He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll stay.”

      She sagged and allowed him to help her into the ambulance.

      “Wait,” she called as he stepped back. “You’ll find the puppy?”

      “Sure.”

      Her smile held gratitude. “Thanks. His name’s Nick.”

      Their gazes held for a moment before the doors of the vehicle closed.

      Nick stared after the ambulance. She’d named the puppy after him. Flattered warmth spread through him, heating his face. He was treading water in the deep end.

      Not my problem?

      He scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

      Claire sat on the gurney waiting for the emergency-room doctor to return. She swung her bare feet, picked at the cotton hospital gown and tried to ignore the noises from the other exam rooms.

      She felt vulnerable and exposed, but mostly she was worried. Worried that everything she’d worked so hard for was ruined.

      She chewed her lip, wondering if Big Nick had found Little Nick.

      The corner