Chapter Two

Alessandro

I 've always believed angels existed, but I'm mad as hell that one has lived next door for an entire week, and I didn't know it. I've been so busy dealing with the wildfire ravaging Granite Hills that I've barely been home. The only neighbor I've met until today is the old lady a few houses down...and she doesn't look anything like Heidi Marsh.

Heidi is fucking gorgeous when she's mad. Actually, she's fucking gorgeous, period. The woman is a dream. Her long brown hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, wild tendrils curling around her heart-shaped face in a way that draws attention to the column of her throat—one I'd very much like to kiss and bite right about now.

"What's it going to be, Sunshine? You going to tell me what I said to piss you off, or is my dog a permanent resident on your couch now?" I ask, taking another warning step toward the curvy goddess staring at me like she's not sure if she wants to flee for her life or knee me in the balls.

A smudge of flour dusts her porcelain cheek, making my fingers itch to wipe it away just to see if she's as soft as I imagine she is. The subtle smile that curls her full, kissable lips and deepens her dimples when she looks at my dog tells me she isn't nearly as pissed at him as she is at me. Lucky bastard.

Not even her frilly apricot-colored apron hides her thick curves and full breasts. Even her bare feet are sexy. Her little nails are pink and, unless I'm mistaken, covered in flour and spices.

When the old lady told me that my neighbor was a sweet little thing, I ignored her. The last thing I needed was some well-intentioned old lady trying to set me up...or so I thought. Maybe I should have paid attention because Mrs. Abernathy wasn't fucking kidding. Heidi is the sweetest little thing I've ever seen.

Unfortunately, I am not on her good side right now. Something about me really pisses her off. I just don't have a clue what. I mean, I piss women off regularly, so I'm not entirely surprised.

Unlike most of the guys at the station, I don't drip charm. In fact, flirting isn't something I do. I don't give a fuck about most women, quite frankly. I didn't go into the fire service to sleep around. I leave that to guys like Dacen Abrams, who fucks anything that moves and prefers it that way.

He's not the only one. Half the department hops from bed to bed.

I don't.

I knew early on that I want the kind of forever my parents have or nothing. I'm not saying I'm a saint because I'm not. I lost my virginity one drunken night when I was eighteen. I've regretted that shit ever since. I swore then that I'd wait as long as I had to wait for my one, and I've kept that vow.

Call it instinct or intuition or plain goddamn insanity, but something keeps roaring that she's standing in front of me right now. Unfortunately for me, she does not seem to share my belief that Rivin's B&E was an act of fate.

"Why are you so pissed at me, angel?" My voice comes out gruffer than I intended. "I'm not leaving until you tell me."

She huffs out a breath, tossing her head as if I'm annoying the fuck out of her. Accurate assessment, I suppose. "I'm not mad at you," she says. The adorable scowl on her face says otherwise.

I crowd her against the doorframe, my body nearly touching hers. My fucking balls cinch up tight, throbbing like a son of a bitch. She smells like sugar and spice and all things nice. I clench my fists, fighting the urge to pull her into me and claim that sassy mouth with a kiss. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"Am not," she whispers, her voice shaking as she presses herself flat against the doorframe to avoid brushing up against me. Judging by the way her pulse flutters and her eyes darken, she isn't averse to me being this close, though. If anything, she likes it a little too much.

"Tell me," I demand, my eyes boring into hers.

"You're flirting with me," she finally snaps, her cheeks flushed as if I'm committing some cardinal sin. "It may work on everyone else but not me, Alessandro. You can't flirt your way out of trouble with me, got it, buddy?"

A laugh threatens to escape, but I tamp it down, keeping my expression solemn. "You think I'm flirting with you to get out of trouble?"

Heidi shrugs, breaking eye contact. But not before I catch a flicker of vulnerability cross her face. The sight hits me like a punch to the gut, squeezing my heart in a vise.

She really has no idea how fucking gorgeous she is. That's a goddamn tragedy. The thought that some fucking prick made her feel less than perfect ignites a slow-burning anger in my chest. Whoever he was, he was an asshole, straight up. She should never feel anything less than beautiful.

I think I decided to make her mine about two seconds after she opened the door, but that little flash of vulnerability only reinforces the desire to lay siege to every piece of her. She needs to be reminded that she's perfect in every goddamn way. And I'm going to be the man who reminds her.

I slowly reach out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. My fingertips graze her soft skin in the process, and I find myself fighting a groan. Fucking hell. She is as soft as I imagined.

"Maybe I'm flirting with you because you've got my cock throbbing," I murmur, my voice a soft purr. "And maybe not all firefighters are assholes who jump into bed with every gorgeous woman they come across. Just so we're clear, you'll be the first since I was eighteen." I pause. "And of the two, you'll be the only one I don't regret."

Her gaze flies to mine, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Yeah," I growl, holding her stare. "I said what I said."

"I... I..." she stutters, the adorable, flustered sound tugging at my heart. Fucking hell. She's sweet as pie. And I've never wanted to taste anything nearly as badly as I want to taste her right now.

I lean in closer, my lips nearly brushing her ear. "But we aren't there yet, Heidi."

As much as I'd love to sweep her into my arms and carry her to bed to get acquainted with every inch of that delectable body, I'm not a complete fucking idiot. She's known me for all of fifteen minutes. And I don't even have to ask to know she isn't the kind of girl who jumps into bed with a man in fifteen minutes. She may not believe it, but I'm not that kind of man, either.

I don't just want to fuck her. I want to get to know her—every little thing there is to know about her. I'm interested in her. Not her body. Her.

She squeezes her eyes shut, inhaling deeply as if trying to gather her composure. When she opens them again, determination shines in their depths. "Your dog, Alessandro," she whispers, her breath warm against my cheek. "You came for your dog."

"Mmhmm." I pull back slightly, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. "But I'm not leaving until you agree to go to dinner with me."

"Can't. Sorry." She shakes her head, silky strands of hair bouncing around her face. "I have things to do."

"Like what?" I growl, not ready to let her off the hook so easily.

She narrows her eyes, a hint of sass returning. "Did you forget that your dog ate my kolaches? Because I didn't forget." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I have to start the recipe completely over. After I finish cleaning my entire kitchen." She tips her head back, scowling up at me. "That's your fault, by the way."

I smile, amused by her fiery attitude. She wields it like armor, hiding behind it. But I see right through it. "Yeah? How is that my fault, angel?" I ask, mirroring her stance with my arms crossed over my chest.

She opens her mouth to respond, then snaps it shut. With a dramatic flourish, she flings an arm toward Rivin, who's still passed out on the couch, blissfully unaware of the chaos he's caused. Like fucking usual. I swear, the damn dog can sleep through anything.

"He broke into my house, Alessandro," she growls.

"You can't really blame him for wanting to be over here. It smells fucking amazing." I'm only partially teasing her. The scent of warm, sweet pastries permeates the air, making my mouth water. If her food tastes as good as it smells, it's no wonder he broke in. Everyone in town feeds the menace, but they don't feed him anything that smells this good.

My comment seems to rile her up even more.

She splutters and then launches into a passionate tirade about the kolaches, gesturing wildly as she speaks. I'm ashamed to admit that I don't hear a word she says. I'm too busy watching the way her eyes flash and her cheeks flush. My fucking cock presses painfully against my zipper, precum leaking into my boxers.

Jesus, she's even more beautiful when she's fired up. Will she be just as passionate when I'm inside her, fucking my kids into her?

"I'm sorry about the kolaches, Sunshine," I say, trying to placate her when she finally takes a breath. "But he's a dog. Dogs don't always have manners."

She rolls her eyes at me, clearly not impressed by my attempt at an apology. "Yeah, well, what if I'd used garlic or onion or something he couldn't have?" she asks, her voice rising with each word. "Did you think about that? He could have been hurt!"

My eyes widen as her words sink in. Shit, I hadn't thought of that. And then the rest of her statement registers.

"Hold the fuck on," I growl, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Let me get this straight. You're not pissed at him because he ate the kolaches. You're pissed at me because he broke in here and ate something that could have hurt him?"

"Exactly!" she cries, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You need to keep a closer eye on him, Alessandro. I can't be worrying about him breaking in and getting into things he can't have. I bake over here all the time. What if he gets in here and gets into the chocolate?" Distress fills her eyes. "It could kill him."

I stare at her for a full five count, shocked into silence. All of this is because she's worried about my dog.

Who the fuck is this woman?

Where the hell did she come from?

Anyone else would be pissed about the hassle—and sure, she's a little annoyed about that—but she's all riled up because she's worried about Rivin. That's a first. Usually, he causes chaos, and people just want him the fuck out of their hair. But Heidi? She wants to kick my ass for not being a good enough handler.

A slow grin spreads across my face, my goddamn heart turning over in my chest.

One way or another, I'm going to win her over and prove to her that I'm not the guy she thinks I am. Rivin is my ride-or-die, my partner. I'd sacrifice my life for his. Hell, I've damn near done exactly that in tight spots before. Just a couple of weeks ago, he got boxed in by the flames out in Granite Hills. I refused to fucking leave until he was out safely. They damn near had to drag me out by the time I got him out of there, but I got him out of there.

I'm not just another asshole firefighter. By the time I'm finished with her, she'll know it, too.

"Oh, angel," I growl, my eyes locked on her face. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

She blinks at me, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about, Alessandro?"

"You and me, Sunshine. We're happening."

"Uh, absolutely not," she snaps, her green eyes narrowing into slits. But the way her breath hitches and her pulse flutters at the base of her throat tells me everything I need to know. She feels this thing between us, too. The knowledge makes me smile, anticipation quaking through me.

I take a step toward her, intending to start changing her mind with a toe-curling kiss. But before I can even touch her, an unholy screech comes from inside the house.

I look that way just in time to see Rivin bound off the couch, his tail thumping, as a tiny black cat goes racing around the side of the recliner, fur standing on end.

"Rivin!" I growl, my voice sharp with command. "Don't you even fucking think about it."

Naturally, my dog ignores me and takes off after the cat, ready to play. The cat clearly isn't on the same page, judging by the way it streaks through the living room like a bat out of hell.

" Przestań! " I bark at Rivin in Polish. He immediately freezes, his ears flattening against his head as he looks at me.

"Are you kidding me?" Heidi breathes, looking at me like she wants to murder me. "He doesn't even speak English?"

"He's trained to respond to Polish commands, angel."

"You couldn't have mentioned that earlier? I don't know. Maybe when we were on the phone ?"

"Didn't know you had a cat when we were on the phone. And you have to know Polish commands to issue them."

She sends me a death glare hot enough to set me on fire.

Okay, so maybe it's time to take Rivin, retreat, and regroup before my future wife murders me with her bare hands.