Page 1 of Lion’s Legacy of Flame (Company 417 Shifters #52)

Chapter One

Claire

I’m not proud of myself for immediately thinking about how losing everything is an acceptable price to pay if it means that I get to spend a lot of time with this man in front of me. It’s a horrible thing for me to think because losing everything isn’t about losing a place for me to live or my possessions or even all of my photos or something.

No, in this case, losing everything means losing the offices of Mealtime, and that means hundreds of people no longer having the food security they need. I don’t like acting like I’m some sort of saint but it’s not bragging to say people rely on the charity I created. It’s not bragging to say that if it goes belly up, a bunch of people lose out.

So, I feel guilty for the thought that passes through my mind. Of course, I wouldn’t trade the food bank and the community gardens and cooperatives for anything at all. Not even for Firefighter Brady Calvin of Fire Company 417. I’m just kind of blown away by the man. That’s all.

That’s where I am right now. The Company 417 firehouse, I mean. I need to be here right now, at least for a minute or two, because I need to thank this man for saving my life. I need to thank everyone involved, but I specifically need to thank Brady.

And he stands right in front of me, and I feel like I’m some kind of absolute dork because I can’t even speak. I’m not exaggerating here. It feels like I’ve just become mute as I stand here and try to figure out what the heck I’m supposed to be saying to him, and what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. I finally blurt out, “I want you to come to dinner.”

Where the hell did that come from?

“What I mean is that I want to invite you to dinner. I want… You and all of the people who fought the fire.” Okay, so this is all on the fly. “To thank you.”

He smiles and shakes his hand. “No, that’s not necessary. We were just doing our job.”

“I started this nonprofit when I was in junior high school. Now, some people depend on it. Even if you guys don’t need to be thanked, the people involved need to do that thanking.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that, I guess. When do you want to schedule this?” Okay, so I’ve persuaded him to do a dinner I didn’t plan and now I have to figure things out.

Ah… Bingo!

“Well, I thought maybe you and I could get coffee or a bite to eat. I could tell you about the program, and then we could figure out how to schedule after that. How’s tonight?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, “I can’t.” Okay, so now I’m devastated, and I have to do a dinner that’s way too much additional work. “I’m still at the station tonight. I stay here either three nights or four nights every week. Today is my fourth night and then I’ll have three nights off. If the offer’s good for tomorrow, I can do it. Otherwise, I can find someone here who can do it tonight.”

“No!” I blush for how loudly I say that. “I mean. Tomorrow would be wonderful.”

He smiles and nods. I muster up the courage to say, “Brady, thank you for saving my life.”

He says, again, “Just doing my job.”

“You’re not allowed to say that again,” I say.

He pauses for a moment and seems to look at me, which makes me blush even harder. “Okay, I accept your thanks without another word about how it is just me doing my job. I look forward to dinner tomorrow night, Claire.”

“Me, too, uh, looking forward to it. Very much. Thank you. Again.”

I walk out slowly, my steps punctuated by that very poor delivery. I finally get out of sight and run for my car like a child. What the hell is wrong with me?

I’ve been operating like a professional for a good portion of my twenty-three years, and now I can’t act like a mature adult for two seconds straight in front of my rescuer?

I get in my car to head back to my temporary quarters for Mealtime. The fire was damaging, though it didn’t destroy the building, it has set us back for the immediate future. Thankfully, a businessman who has donated to our organization in the past had an empty warehouse he was willing to let us use rent-free.

I feel I should be happy that operations haven’t been upended too drastically, but I have a gut feeling about who might be responsible for our fire and it makes me livid.

Mealtime has been my life for the past ten years. I created it when I was thirteen for a school project exploring philanthropy. I started it in my garage, but it soon outgrew the space. I got the entire community involved and it wasn’t long before I realized that it was my passion.

I still went to college and got my degree. I have learned everything I could learn about running a non-profit. I’ve lived the pros and the cons. Really; I thought I’d encountered all possible snags on the road to success.

The moment I met Danton Steele, I knew I was wrong.

He is a big honcho developer used to having his way. He throws money around like empty compliments. He always is looking for the next big real estate bonanza, and he doesn’t care what it takes to make it happen, even if it means displacing businesses and people.

Well, Mealtime just happens to be planted in a pretty peachy spot, at least as a greedy developer sees it. It’s in a building that was once a strip mall, and we only have one other neighbor, a small office supply store.

That is, we had one neighbor. They agreed to Steele’s price and moved out just two weeks ago. It made me furious, but I really couldn’t blame them.

Steele offered me twice as much, and I turned him down. I couldn’t see Mealtime becoming some soulless shopping district. There’s some beautiful land around us. It doesn’t need more parking lots.

The fire was awful. I was still in the building, the only one still working on a Sunday. When that fire hit, it started in the other corner and rushed across the front of the building. I didn’t realize what was going on until too late.

I was trapped and terrified. I thought, for the first time in my life, that I was going to die. I was backed into a corner, crouching under a desk and typing messages to friends and family when Brady smashed through the burning door to get me.

I looked up and it was like a god had stepped down from Olympus. Of course, I was starting to suffer from smoke inhalation, but I remember watching him walk over to me like fire was nothing to fear. He just came right over to me and scooped me up into his arms and carried me out.

Others rushed in behind him to check for other people, but I only talked to Brady. He brought me to an ambulance outside and as they took over my care, I begged him for his name. I couldn’t talk well, but he pulled his mask down long enough to tell me and to insist I let the EMTs do their job.

I held him in my dreams for the next few days as I worked through the mire that Mealtime became with just a few short minutes of fire.

Anyway, Brady is my hero. I’m determined to make him understand that.

The fact that he’s a very good-looking hero is just a bonus.