Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

countertop, whose installation had needed the help of three of his firefighter buddies. Renovating this house had been an all-consuming project, something to fill every spare moment not on the job.
    Perhaps working on the house had helped him deal with any PTSD, if he’d ever had any. Unlike Todd, he’d never been in the line of fire on a daily basis. He hadn’t killed anyone. Didn’t have blood on his hands, unless you counted Todd’s. Oh, he’d seen people die. There had been that while he’d been a SEAL. And as a firefighter, he still dealt with death, whether it had been from car accidents, drug overdoses, heart attacks or smoke inhalation. Where you had life, you had death. That was an inevitable fact. Still, perhaps this house had saved Brad, for it had given him purpose.
    He’d let his house become his mistress, filling a void. Giving him purpose. A man had to have purpose. Once after two pitchers of beer, Todd had admitted he didn’t think he’d be able to adjust to civilian life—but somehow Brad had done that. Maybe it had helped going directly into another adrenaline-junkie job, one that involved hard danger and risking your life saving people. Last night he’d pulled the young boy out from the building. While the house had been a total loss, all inside had survived last night, including the family cat Brad had saved as well. He liked saving things. Better than the alternative.
    Noticing a plantation blind was crooked in the breakfast nook, he went to adjust it. Moved some small packing boxes on the table so he could set down the slightly chipped, blue ceramic coffee mug. Then he saw the flag. It was folded thirteen times so only white stars and blue fabric showed, the same as when the honor guard had handed it to Scarlett following the memorial service. She’d put it in a black display box made for such items. On the table it rested by her car keys and purse, as if she’d carried the items inside last night and set them down, perhaps intending to return to rehome them later.
    Fingers trembling, he set his cup down, careful not to spill any of the coffee that threatened to slosh out. He lifted the brass latch, opened the glass. Touched the fabric that had covered his best friend’s casket. Fought back the tears and anger that threatened. Todd shouldn’t have died. Why hadn’t Brad convinced Todd?
    And hell, could Brad really have changed things had he reenlisted and accepted the promotion into Todd’s unit? He’d never know that answer, and Brad shoved guilty thoughts away as he heard Scarlett reach the bottom stairs, for despite applying extra nails to the subfloor before the wood, the last step still gave a small squeak. “You okay?”
    He closed the glass lid. Fingers fumbled securing the latch. “Fine.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded clipped, far away. He masked his expression and turned her way.
    She pointed at the flag. “I have no idea where I’m going to put that. But I guess there’s plenty of room.” Her forced laugh sounded hollow. False. “This place is huge. I haven’t even been on the third floor yet.”
    “I’m sorry.” The words burst forth. Hung on the air like an oppressive summer day.
    She planted hands on hips. Took a moment. Made light. “It’s not your fault you rehabbed a three-story historic house. It’s a beautiful place. A castle, according to Colleen.”
    Her silent plea of “don’t go there” was written from the top of her brow to the tip of her chin. So he got a grip on his emotions. Went along with the change in the conversation. “Thanks. Only a few more construction things left to do. You sure you won’t mind if I’m in here finishing up? It’s mostly on that third floor you still haven’t seen.” To his ears, his chuckle sounded fake as his own joke attempt also fell flat.
    Thankful he’d played along, she smiled, and it lit up her whole face. She’d always had the power to make him go weak at the knees. When he’d first met