Page 3 of The Hotshot’s Prize (Praise Me Like Fire #2)

Ella

My legs won’t stop shaking.

Even now, sitting in the dirt with the wind cutting past my ears and my savior crouched beside me like some kind of unshakable mountain, I can’t stop trembling.

I’m alive. I’m safe. But the terror of almost dying clings to me like a second skin.

He’s watching me carefully, his brows furrowed under a mop of sweat-damp dark hair. His eyes—brown, I think, though it’s hard to tell in the failing light—keep scanning the horizon behind me. There’s a low rumble of thunder that seems to crawl through my chest.

“Storm’s coming in faster than I thought,” he says, mostly to himself. Then he looks at me again. “We’ve gotta move.”

I blink up at him, disoriented. “Move?”

Before I can fully process his words, he wraps his arms around me, one slipping under my knees and the other behind my back, and I’m being lifted into the air like I weigh nothing.

“What—what are you doing?” I yelp, my hands automatically clutching at his shoulders. They’re broad. Hard. Warm through the cling of his damp shirt.

Zack adjusts his grip on me with ease and starts walking. “You’re still in shock, your ankle’s scraped, and we’re not staying here. There’s a cave about a quarter mile from here. It’s safe. I’ll go back for your gear once I’ve got you out of the wind.”

I should protest. I should insist that I can walk. That I don’t need to be carried like a fainting damsel from some bodice-ripper romance novel.

But my arms don’t let go.

And God help me, I’m aware of every single point of contact between us. His chest is solid, rising and falling steadily under my arm. I can feel the delicious flex of his biceps as he moves effortlessly through the rough terrain. His jaw is square and sharp, dusted with scruff.

Holy hell. This man is stupid hot.

“Are you, like…” I swallow. “Are you a firefighter or something?”

“Hotshot,” he answers without breaking stride. “Wildland firefighter. We’re based a few hours south of here. But I’m up here training.”

Hotshot. Of course he is.

Figures that the man who looks like he just walked off the cover of some gritty action movie would be the type to run into fires for a living.

With that rough voice and the intensity in his eyes, he screams confidence and danger and the kind of strength that turns a girl’s brain to mush if she’s not careful.

Butterflies flurry low in my stomach, right alongside the thunder.

He saved my life. That should be the headline. But instead, my brain insists on looping things like: His arms feel good around you and his jaw could cut glass.

Embarrassing much?

But also…a little exhilarating.

“Do you do this often?” I ask, mostly to distract myself. “Rescue clueless girls from rock ledges?”

His mouth twitches at the corner. “Only the cute ones.”

I swallow, almost choking on my spit.

Did he just—?

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, just keeps walking like it was nothing. But my heart practically explodes in my chest.

Cute? Me?

I mean, I’m not a troll or anything, but I’ve never exactly been the girl who gets called that. Especially not by guys who look like him. Guys with thick lashes and intense forearms and a voice like thunder wrapped in velvet.

Get it together, Ella.

We round a bend, and he ducks under an outcrop before stepping into a narrow crevice between two large rock walls. It’s darker here, but the moment we step in, the howling wind dies down. The air feels dense and still.

He gently sets me down on a flat part of the cave floor and squats in front of me again.

“This’ll shelter us,” he says, brushing dirt off his hands. “I’m gonna double back and grab your bag and mine. Won’t take long. Stay put, alright?”

My pulse leaps again, but not for the same reason as before. I hold out my hand before I can stop myself.

“Wait…you’re leaving?” I wince at how small my voice sounds.

He raises his brows. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll be back before the rain hits. Promise.”

I nod quickly, forcing a smile. “No, yeah. Of course. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Lie. Every inch of me is still on edge. I hate being alone in strange places, and this cave feels like something out of a horror movie. But I’m not about to beg him to stay. I don’t want to seem clingy. Or pathetic.

I barely even know him.

He pauses, then pulls a flashlight from his belt and hands it to me, our fingers brushing.

“Just in case. I won’t be long.”

His eyes linger on mine for a long moment before he pulls his hand away.

And then he’s gone.

I sit there, clutching the flashlight like a lifeline, willing myself to calm the hell down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. He’ll be back.

Still, every creak of the rocks or gust of wind outside makes my nerves jump. I flick the flashlight on and scan the inside of the cave. It’s small but deep enough to protect us. A few old fire rings are scattered around the floor, probably from hikers or other wildland guys like Zack.

Zack.

His name tastes strange in my head. But it’s a nice kind of strange. Familiar already.

The butterflies return uninvited, fluttering low and hot in my belly. Now that I’m alone, my brain has room to fully obsess over how ridiculously attractive he is.

That jaw. Those arms. That voice.

I mean, sure, I was hanging off a cliff ten minutes ago, and he literally pulled me up like it was nothing, but even before the adrenaline wore off, my body noticed. And now, every time I close my eyes, I see him standing over me, all confidence and quiet strength, promising he’s got me.

Ugh.

Tessa would have a field day with this. My best friend has always said I’m too focused on work. That I need to live a little. Fall in love. Or at least fall into bed with someone ridiculously hot, just once.

Well, Tess. I may have skipped right over the falling part and gone straight to the almost dying, but you’d be pleased to know the guy who saved me is literal fire.

I can already picture her losing her mind.

Tess must be worried about me, especially with how I ended our call so abruptly earlier. She’s probably sent a million texts, wondering where I went, if I’m okay, if I got eaten by a mountain lion or abducted by UFOs.

I have to call her as soon as Zack gets back.

I adjust the flashlight to point upward and hug my knees, trying not to let the sound of the approaching storm mess with my head. I’m still shaking, less from the cold now, more from the lingering adrenaline.

But under all of that, under the fear and the nerves, there’s something new. A spark I’ve never felt before.

Zack…

He may be a stranger, but something about him feels…solid. Safe. And dangerous, in a way that makes my pulse race, but not because I’m scared.

I should be terrified, but I’m not.

The flashlight’s beam flickers as I hear boots crunching over gravel. I jolt upright.

“Zack?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice is calm and deep, cutting through the rising wind like a warm blade. “Didn’t miss me too much, did you?”

Relief floods through me so fast I almost sag in place. I don’t say it, but I did miss him. More than I’d like to admit.

He ducks into the cave and straightens, his arms full. He has my backpack slung over one shoulder, his duffel in the other hand. He tosses both down gently against the far wall and unzips his pack in one fluid motion, pulling out a gray blanket and a compact first aid kit.

“Got your gear. Phone’s still intact, by the way,” he says, setting it beside me. “You might have fifty missed calls from the same number though.”

“Tessa,” I groan, rolling my eyes.

“Who’s that?”

“My best friend,” I answer with a small smile. “She’s probably organizing a search party.”

He flashes a smile that nearly knocks the breath out of me. “That’s good. Means someone’s looking out for you.”

He drops to a crouch beside me and gently unfolds the blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders like I’m some fragile thing. I go still, caught off guard by the careful way his fingers brush my arms, strong but not rough. Confident.

He looks up at me, just a little too long. “You warm enough?”

I nod, my throat constricting. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Good. Let me take a look at you.”

Before I can protest, he’s already unzipping the first aid kit and patting the little shelflike ledge behind me. “Hop up here. Easier this way.”

I hesitate, only for a second, then let him help me up.

The moment I sit, he settles in front of me and lifts my leg, the flashlight tucked beside us casting golden shadows across his face.

He’s focused. Gentle. His fingers skim over the dirt-streaked skin on my shin, inspecting a shallow scrape near my ankle with far more care than necessary.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, glancing up.

“Not really.” I swallow. “You don’t have to—”

“Let me,” he cuts in softly. “You had a hell of a fall. I’d rather be sure.”

My breath hitches. Something about the way he says it makes my chest tighten. He cleans the scrape with a swab, and I flinch at the sting.

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. “Almost done.”

“You don’t do this for all the cute girls you rescue, do you?” I joke, trying to diffuse the heat curling through my veins.

He looks up at me again. Smiles slowly. “No. Just you.”

My breath catches at the words, and his hand drifts down my calf, thumb brushing just below the bandage.

“How’d it happen?” he asks. “You don’t strike me as the reckless type.”

I laugh under my breath. “I’m not. Not usually…I’m a wildlife photographer. I was out here shooting for a piece on endangered species. Spotted two Mexican spotted owls right before the weather turned. I got a little too close to the edge trying to get the perfect shot, and here we are.”

He lifts his brows. “That’s rare. The owls.” Then he chuckles. “That kind of shot might even be worth the fall.”

I nod, grateful for the distraction. “Exactly. I couldn’t pass it up. Even though my anxiety was already at a ten.”

He tilts his head, and something about his gaze softens. “You’ve got anxiety?”

I nod, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s…a thing. I try not to let it stop me, but sometimes it gets loud.”

“Well, you sure as hell didn’t let it stop you today.” His hand is still on my leg. “You hung in there. You climbed into that harness. You did what you had to do. That’s brave as hell, Ella.”

The way he says my name…like he’s tasting it. It makes my stomach flip in a funny way.

“You don’t even know me,” I whisper.

“I know enough.”

His hand moves slowly, sliding up just a little to my knee, warm and firm. The space between us shrinks. His other hand moves to brush a strand of hair out of my face, his knuckles grazing my cheek.

And then, the world narrows.

To him.

To the heat in his eyes.

To the tension sparking between us like dry branches catching flame.

“Zack…” I say, though I don’t know if I’m warning him…or myself.

He doesn’t answer. Just watches me. Watches my breath hitch. Watches my lips part.

His hand shifts to my jaw, calloused fingertips brushing the curve of my cheek, and it’s like the whole damn cave is holding its breath. I lean unconsciously into his hand as his thumb traces the corner of my mouth. My eyes flutter closed.

And then his lips brush against mine. Soft. Hesitant. Like he’s giving me the chance to pull away.

I don’t.

I kiss him back, slowly, tentatively, my lips trembling beneath his. His hand slides behind my neck, pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss. He takes like ice and fire. Wild. Unexpected.

I forget the storm outside. Forget the fall, the fear, the ache in my knees. There’s only this. Only him.

It’s crazy.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I don’t want to stop.