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  Burning Love

  Jacie Lennon

  Burning Love

  Slow Burn Series, Book 1

  By: Jacie Lennon

  Copyright 2019 by Jacie Lennon

  All rights reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  Burning Love

  Editor: C. Marie

  Cover Designer: Alora Kate at Cover Kraze

  Proofreader: Jovana Shirley at Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  Contents

  1. Hanna

  2. Ezra

  3. Hanna

  4. Ezra

  5. Hanna

  6. Ezra

  7. Ezra

  8. Ezra

  9. Ezra

  10. Hanna

  11. Hanna

  12. Hanna

  13. Hanna

  14. Ezra

  15. Hanna

  16. Hanna

  17. Hanna

  18. Ezra

  19. Hanna

  20. Hanna

  21. Hanna

  Epilogue

  Also by Jacie Lennon

  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to my husband, who doesn’t read and will never see this dedication. He’s been such a support and fan of mine since I decided to pursue my dream of writing. I love you, L.

  1

  Hanna

  Today’s shift was the longest twelve hours of my life, and I feel drained even though I love everything about being a nurse. The excitement of never knowing what’s going to walk through the door, the anticipation of making someone’s day better, the heartache of seeing someone get news they didn’t want to hear—it all comes with the territory. I’ve known I wanted to be a nurse ever since I was young, and once I found out there was such a thing as travel nursing, I was sold. I used the opportunity to get away from my life. I don’t mind admitting that I ran away from my problems. I’m still running, to be honest. I’m running away from parents who hate each other. I’m running from failed relationships. I’m not meant for commitment. I enjoy being free to go other places on a whim, never being tied down.

  Exhausted, I throw myself across the couch, kicking off my shoes and propping a pillow under my head. “Dammit,” I mutter when my stomach gives an angry rumble.

  I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I only had time to choke down a bland bowl of oatmeal with a side of banana before work took over. I stay so busy that I don’t get to eat often, and sometimes, I can hardly get a bathroom break.

  Dragging myself off the couch, I shuffle into the kitchen, pull out a freezer meal, and pop it in the microwave while pouring some lemonade. Sighing, I sit down at the table and take out my phone: two missed calls from Dad and a text from my best friend, Jules.

  Shit. I forgot today is Thursday. I wasn’t scheduled to work today, but a coworker needed the day off, and I volunteered to cover since I didn’t have anything going on. Dad and I always have a weekly conversation on Thursday just to catch up and talk.

  Tapping his name on my screen, I wait while it rings. The microwave beeps in the background, and I grab dinner and a spoon as the call goes to voice mail.

  “Hey, Dad, sorry I missed you. I picked up an extra shift and haven’t even had time to breathe today. Call me back if you get this before ten—you know it’s lights out past that. Love you.” I hit the End Call button and shuffle back to the couch with my gourmet meal.

  I usually go for a run every day to help relieve stress, but with the way my body aches, all I can think about is how wonderful a hot bath will be once I’m done with my dinner. Flipping through the channels as I eat, I finally land on a cooking show. I watch, almost in a daze as I let my mind drift, thinking about what I have planned for the rest of the week: work and more work. My schedule is pretty bland, but that’s how I like it. I don’t like to spread myself too thin. Who am I kidding? I don’t like to spread myself around at all. I’m a work three days and then do whatever I want kind of girl. I might have some commitment issues…maybe.

  I shoot straight up on the couch as I hear the first peal of an alarm blaring. I realize I must have fallen asleep, my hand still holding my bowl of food. I blindly search for my phone to shut the alarm off, dropping the meal all over my carpet in the process.

  Shit. Wait a minute…

  I look around in a panic as I realize it’s not my phone making this awful racket—the building’s fire alarm is going off. I have a hundred things running through my mind, things I think about grabbing, but I look down and realize I’m only half-clothed. Earlier, I stripped down to a T-shirt and undies to get comfortable before crawling underneath my favorite well-worn, fuzzy blanket on the couch.

  I stick my cell phone in the waistband of my underwear and run to the bedroom to grab a sweatshirt while my underwear starts to sag under the weight of the phone. Not the best place to stash it, I’ll admit. I find a hoodie lying on the end of my bed and throw it on, frantically looking around to locate the pair of yoga pants I discarded yesterday. I kick over a pile of books while reaching for them.

  My books—that’s one thing I would rescue.

  I stick one leg in, and as I’m putting the other one in, I catch my toe on the stretchy material and lose my balance. As I fall to the side, I forget to let go of the pants, and my head catches the side of my open drawer.

  My last thought before I crash to the floor and am swallowed by darkness is whether or not my parents will kill each other at my funeral.

  When my eyes flutter open, I feel weightless. Floating in space, I squint at the star blaring right into my corneas.

  That can’t be right.

  I blink several times and realize someone is holding a flashlight in my face. I try to bring my hand up to shield my eyes, and then I realize I’m moving. No, I’m being carried. My gaze shifts into focus, and I see a helmet, a uniform of some sort. I turn my head and connect with a pair of green eyes that are staring back at me.

  The color jolts me, and a vivid childhood memory flashes in my mind. I used to sneak into my parents’ room and play in my mother’s clothes and jewelry. She was usually out at brunch or enjoying a mimosa on the back porch by the pool, and she almost never caught me. Almost. I had just put on a pair of her sparkly high heels and had a ring on every finger when I heard her coming down the hall. Panicking, I dropped everything back into her jewelry box while trying desperately to kick the shoes off into the back of her closet. Right before she rounded the corner, I spied a lone necklace in the bottom of the box. It was an emerald on a delicate little chain, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I snatched it up and stuffed it in my pocket before she walked through the door. I got the whipping of my life for messing with my mother’s “most prized possessions,” but I kept the necklace. She never asked about it, and to this day, I still have it.

  Looking into this man’s eyes, I am reminded of that necklace, the beautiful, sparkly emerald green that wasn’t mine to take but that I took anyway.

  “Ma’am, how do you feel?” the distorted voice asks.

  I nod my head in response, still dazed.

  “Can you ta
lk?” He peers down at me, those green eyes searching.

  “Uh…” I clear my throat, coughing. “I’m okay. What’s going on?”

  “There was a fire in the apartment next to yours. It seems you fell and hit your head, and we couldn’t get to you before smoke overtook your room. They want to take you to the hospital to monitor your breathing overnight.”

  What a nice voice.

  The country drawl that snuck out makes me feel warm. I’ve always been a sucker for an accent.

  He places me on the stretcher sitting at the back of the ambulance. His hands reach down and grab the waistband of my pants, which are still sitting around my ankles, and he begins to tug them upward before pausing. A panicked look fills his eyes, and I can see his forehead wrinkle a bit through the helmet shield. Goose bumps fan out on my legs from where he touches me.

  “Oh no.” I struggle to sit up. “No, that’s not necessary.” I cough, my lungs feeling heavy. I place my hand on his gloved hand, stilling his movements and attempting to pull my pants up myself. I’m mortified.

  Those beautiful green eyes are seeing my granny panties.

  Why couldn’t I have worn a cuter pair today?

  “Ma’am, please don’t try to sit up. Stay calm.” His hand rests on my shoulder, applying slight pressure.

  I look back at him, my stomach fluttering when my gaze finds those green eyes again. I’ve never seen eyes quite that color.

  “I am calm,” I protest. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

  “Ma’am, I’m going to tell you what I’d tell my own family: get your ass to the hospital. Side effects of smoke inhalation may not show up for hours, so your best bet for getting the care you need is going to the hospital.” His gaze darts up and catches mine before he looks away again.

  “Well, sir, it’s a good thing I’m not part of your family.” I try to sound indignant but end up just sounding weak.

  “Is it?” He says and my eyes snap to his.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he says, looking flustered.

  I become distracted by the EMT who’s appeared to check my vitals. There’s a flurry of activity around me as I’m loaded into the ambulance and given an oxygen mask to put on. My fireman stands at the back of the vehicle, his eyes locked on mine as they lift me into it, and he gives a small wave as they begin to shut the doors.

  Shit, I didn’t get his name, I think as we pull away from my apartment complex. I lie back and breathe deeply. My throat is sore, and my lungs are itchy. I look around and see the man who started taking my vitals.

  “Do you remember what happened?” the EMT asks as he takes my blood pressure.

  “Um…” I rub my head, feeling a lump forming. “I think I hit my head.”

  “Looks like a pretty good little knot there.” He nods. “You will definitely have a bruise. Blood pressure looks normal, and you have minimal coughing. They will still want to check your breathing and make sure no further testing is needed.”

  “Okay.” I already know all this, but there’s no reason to pull that card. He doesn’t know I’m a nurse. “Do you know if there was any damage to my apartment?”

  “I was told there was no actual fire in your unit, just smoke rolling over from your neighbor’s place.”

  I’ll have to google how to get smoke out of my furniture. “How is my neighbor? Do they know what caused the fire?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am.”

  I nod before thinking I should introduce myself. “I’m Hanna.”

  He smiles and extends his hand. “Barry.”

  He looks to be around my dad’s age with his head of silvery-white hair, and his smile is friendly. I instantly like him.

  “Would you happen to know the name of the fireman who carried me out?” I can’t get him out of my head. I tell myself I only want to know, so I can thank him.

  “Oh, no, ma’am, I don’t.” Barry smiles in sympathy while I nod, giving up on the idea of finding him.

  I’m sure I made up the attraction I felt anyway. I probably have a concussion.

  “We’re pulling in now. Nice to meet you, Hanna.” He pats my shoulder once before jumping down, as the door is opened.

  I’m wheeled into the hospital with the oxygen mask still on my face. I notice a few other people from my complex are there, sitting in triage, but I must have priority since I was unconscious. I look around for Chuck, my neighbor, but I don’t see him. I know, if he’s been brought to the hospital, asking about him won’t yield any answers because of patient confidentiality.

  “Oh shit.” I sit up quickly. “I still haven’t talked to Dad,” I mutter to myself as I take my phone out from inside my pants. Thankfully, I had it with me when I fell. I see three missed calls from him and wonder briefly if he has heard about my apartment.

  “No phones, ma’am,” the nurse says as he wheels me behind a curtain. “Please lie back.”

  I comply with a groan. I guess Dad will have to wait.

  “You look familiar.” The nurse peers over at me as he hooks everything up. “Do I know you?”

  “You’ve probably seen me around. I started here last week.”

  “Oh! You work upstairs.” He snaps a finger, cocking his head. “Hanna, right?”

  I’m surprised he knows my name. “Uh…yeah, that’s me, and you are?”

  “Brent.” He grins. “I make it my business to know all the gossip here.”

  “Is that right?” I laugh. “What’s the gossip about me?”

  “Hanna Walters, twenty-five, traveling nurse. Transferred here from Virginia. That’s really it. You haven’t been here long enough for me to find out anything else.”

  I nod and smile at him. He’s right; I mainly keep to myself and don’t really do much else besides work.

  “So, are you dating?” he asks.

  “Why? You interested?”

  “Oh no, doll. You don’t have the right equipment for me.”

  I bust out laughing. “Brent, I think I’m going to like you.”

  He grins at me as he checks his watch. “Gotta go. I’ll be back to check on you in a while.” He rushes out with a little wave.

  I lie back and think about how my evening took a turn for the worst. Well, it could be worse than this, and I’m grateful the fire didn’t make it into my apartment.

  The night passes in a whirlwind of doctors and nurses checking on me and running tests. Around four in the morning, I’m given the all-clear and told I’ll be discharged in the morning.

  I’m dozing on and off when the door is flung open.

  “You little minx!” Brent declares, pointing a finger at me. “You do have a man!”

  “What are you talking about?” I blink at the brightness of the lights, bringing a hand up to shield my face.

  “Your boy toy called here, checking on you.”

  “I don’t have a boy toy, Brent.” I lie back down, closing my eyes.

  “Well, a man definitely called here, asking about you. He sounded hot.”

  “Ew, Brent. It was probably my dad. And how does someone sound hot?”

  “Does your dad know your name?” He raises his eyebrows.

  “I would hope so.” I furrow mine in confusion.

  “Because this man referred to you as—and I quote—‘the woman brought in earlier for smoke inhalation.’ Unless we’ve traveled back in time, he was looking for you because you are the only woman who’s been brought in for smoke inhalation in the last three weeks.” He finishes with his hands on his hips.

  “What did he want to know?” I ask.

  “How you’re doing, of course.” Brent sighs in exasperation.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That it’s confidential and unless you have him on your list, I can’t divulge that information.”

  “Thank you.” I nod. “Oh, what did you say his name was?”

  “I didn’t.” He cocks his head to the side. “Come to think of it, he didn’t say either.”

&
nbsp; I narrow my eyes at him. “Well that’s weird.”

  “Ooh, I do love a good mystery.” He laughs.

  “Sounds more like a stalker,” I grumble. “Let me know if he calls back. I’d like to speak to him.”

  “You got it,” Brent replies on his way out.

  Once I’m discharged, I catch a cab back to my apartment. There’s police tape around my neighbor’s apartment door and men and women milling around, looking official, as I walk toward my apartment.

  “You can’t go in there, ma’am.” I’m stopped by an upraised hand, and I look at the policeman with the saddest eyes I can muster.

  “It’s my apartment. Please,” I beg, holding my arms out.

  “Once we finish looking it over, you will be allowed entrance if it’s deemed safe. I would recommend that you find other lodging, as your apartment won’t be livable until it’s fully cleaned.”

  I can feel tears welling behind my eyes. I’m so tired, and all I want to do is get some sleep. I catch another cab and have it take me to a hotel. Thankfully, my phone case had a pocket on the back where I kept my credit card in case of emergencies. This qualifies.

  I get to my room after checking in and grab a toothbrush and toothpaste from the front desk. I immediately lie down on the bed and fall asleep, completely forgetting to call my dad back.

  2

  Ezra

  What the hell was I thinking?

  I can’t believe I called to check on a woman I don’t even know. I didn’t even know her name to tell them who I was talking about. Shaking my head, I mentally berate myself for being an idiot. Thankfully, I didn’t give them my name.