On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

minutes. The heat was intense. She could barely breathe, and there was a wall of flames between her and the only way out. She couldn't afford to be scared. Grabbing a towel off the top of the nearby washing machine, she covered her nose and mouth, and prepared to make a dash for it.
    Before she could move, a figure appeared on the other side of the flames—a man.
    A wave of relief swept through her. Help had arrived.
    He barreled through the fire and smoke, batting away the flames as if they were troublesome bees. When he stopped in front of her, her heart jumped again.
    "Aiden?" She lowered the towel from her face. He was the last Callaway she wanted to see.
    "Sara?" he asked, shock in his eyes.
    "My dad is in the basement. He's hurt." She waved her hand toward the open door in the laundry room. "I think he broke his leg. You have to help him."
    "First you, then him," he said decisively.
    "But—"
    "The longer you stand here arguing—"
    "Fine." She took his hand, put the towel over her mouth and nose and let him lead her through the flames.
    It was a terrifying pass through fire. She felt as if any minute her hair would go up in flames. She was glad she'd put it up, fewer tendrils to catch the sparks. Her eyes streamed with tears, and each smoky breath seared her lungs. She could barely see the furniture now, and she was more than grateful to have Aiden by her side. He moved with decisive confidence as if daring the fire to touch them.
    When they reached the hall, he patted some lingering sparks out of her hair and off of her clothes, giving the rest of her body a quick look before saying, "Go outside. The fire department is on its way." And with that, he disappeared back into the fire.
    The sound of sirens made it easier for her to leave the house.
    She grabbed her purse off the hall table and saw the front door hanging off its hinges. Aiden must have broken it down to get inside. The reality of what was happening hit her again. A few more minutes and neither she nor her father might have made it out of the house.
    She ran down to the sidewalk just as the first fire engine came around the corner, followed by two more trucks and an ambulance.
    She met the first firefighter as soon as his feet hit the sidewalk. "My father is trapped in the basement," she said. "The door is off the laundry room by the kitchen. Aiden Callaway went to get him, but they haven't come out yet."
    "Aiden?" the guy echoed.
    She nodded, not really surprised that the firefighter seemed to know Aiden since so many of the Callaways worked in the department.
    "Wait here," he told her.
    She crossed her arms in front of her waist as the firefighters entered the house. Everything would be okay, she told herself. Aiden was with her father, and they were both going to be fine.
    Aiden must have seen the flames from next door and in typical Aiden-fashion, he'd run straight into the house without waiting for backup. The Callaways had never been short on courage, sometimes on good sense, but not on guts. And Aiden didn't just end up in trouble; he often went looking for it. At least, he had when he'd been younger.
    It had been more than ten years since she'd seen the very attractive guy-next-door, who had been the object of the most intense crush she had ever had in her life. Aiden had been a bad boy and she'd been a very good girl. But one reckless night had taken their relationship to a new level. Then Aiden had brought it all crashing down.
    Her gut clenched at the memory of what had been the best and worst night of her life. She'd put Aiden out of her mind for a long time, but now he was back, and so was she.
    Only temporarily, she reminded herself. This wasn't her home anymore and never would be.
    "Sara?"
    She turned to see Lynda Callaway, Aiden's stepmother, crossing the lawn at a brisk pace. A tall, willowy blonde, Lynda Callaway moved gracefully, like the dancer she'd once been.
    "Are you all right, Sara? I couldn't believe my eyes when I drove around the corner and saw the fire engines and the smoke. What happened? Where's your father?"
    "He's inside. So is Aiden," she added.
    Lynda paled at that piece of news, her gaze flying to the house. "Aiden? Aiden's here?"
    "Yes. I guess he saw the smoke. He broke down the front door." She glanced back at the house. Smoke was pouring through the front door, flames still visible through the windows in the dining room. What was taking them so long? "Aiden went to get my father. He fell down the basement