It was a rare thing for Sophia to have a Saturday morning she neither had to work nor was completely exhausted from coming off of a twelve-hour shift. So she made the best of the day, packing in everything that she wished she had the schedule for on a regular basis.

Which is how she found herself only moments after completing a three-mile run along the beach, ordering the biggest Java Chip Frappuccino that Starbucks offered, complete with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. And a breakfast sandwich. But only for the practicality of the protein. Sugar was always her first priority.

Sophia mindlessly scrolled through her phone as she waited for her breakfast, her body already starting to get a little sore, but her spirits were high thanks to the endorphins she had surging through her at the moment.

She paused at an Instagram photo of her best friend, Raina, at the end of Santa Monica pier. The caption read: 'Hopefully I won't fall over the edge.'

Sophia snorted. To anyone else, it would just be a cheesy remark about the ocean, and honestly, not really make that much sense. But Raina had been one of the first to hear about Sophia's ocean dive and had proceeded to tease her mercilessly about it ever since.

It had been two weeks since the incident, and there were times looking back at it when Sophia wondered if it actually happened. With the exception of during her job, she really wasn't the type to make snap decisions. She was the type to weigh the consequences of her actions, not leap right into danger.

"Venti Java Chip Frappuccino with whip and a breakfast sandwich for Sophia."

Sophia looked up at the sound of the Starbucks barista calling her name. She grabbed her food, gave the overworked employees a nod of thanks, and turned toward the door.

"Do me a favor, if you're going back to the pier right now, try to keep your feet on solid ground."

Sophia didn't know how the voice cut through both the general murmur of the coffee shop and her rock workout music, but it did. She spun around, knowing who she was about to see but gaping at him all the same when he came into view.

Dean's words had been bitchy, but the corner of his mouth quirked up, sending very mixed signals. He sat by himself at a table in the back corner, away from the caffeine-deprived crowd.

"Damn, well there goes my late morning plans," Sophia replied drily. Her previous encounter with the firefighter had been less than ideal, and if he was trying to start an argument, there was no way she was going to let him off scot-free.

He eyed her as she approached, a book and a cup almost as large as Sophia's sitting in front of him.

"I just don't want to have to jump in and rescue you, again."

Sophia scoffed. "You didn't have to do anything," she bit back. "I had it handled."

"Honestly, I have no doubt."

It was only at this point did Sophia realize Dean was messing with her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "And as you can see, I didn't drown, in the ocean or out of it."

"I'm glad." He met her gaze evenly. Then, "Do you want to sit?"

Sophia blinked in surprise. After their last meeting, she had assumed the firefighter thought her nothing more than a reckless civilian putting herself in harm's way. But he was much more amicable right now, and Sophia had to admit, she was curious about what he might have to say.

She sank into the seat in front of him, gingerly putting her food and drink down on the table.

"I wouldn't have seen you," Dean admitted, nodding to the book that now lay closed on the table, next to his coffee. "But then I heard the barista call your name."

"There are a lot of Sophias in L.A.," she pointed out.

"And the name will be forever associated in my mind with the ballsy woman who jumped off Santa Monica pier to save some random kid."

Well, there were worst things to be associated with. Sophia didn't respond right away, her words getting lost in between her brain and her stomach, so took a moment to study him, instead. The last time she had laid eyes on him hadn't been either of their best moments. But now he lounged in the chair in front of her, a spark in his eyes that told her he was thoroughly amused.

His eyes though, Sophia couldn't tear herself away from staring at them. They were dark, so dark she couldn't even be sure they were brown or black and could barely distinguish his pupils, but despite that, there was an unmistakable gleam to them. Sophia almost felt exposed as he stared at her. No one looked at her with that much joy, and certainly not men who were almost perfect strangers.

"Yeah, well, you really didn't give me the sense that you approved of my actions once we got out of the water," Sophia said pointedly. She still wasn't thrilled about his insistence that she needed medical attention and how he automatically assumed she was in danger of needing his saving.

Dean's half smile dropped into a full frown. "Actually, that's why I invited you over here," he said. "I wanted to apologize for all of that.

Sophia arched an eyebrow but kept silent.

"Look, usually when civilians jump into an emergency, no matter how good their intentions are, we have to end up saving them, too. And a lot of times they end up getting hurt. So when I saw you go over the side, that's what immediately came to my mind. I didn't even talk to the mom, I just jumped. And once everything turned out to be okay and the adrenalin eased up, I guess I was scared I had missed something and that you were somehow not okay."

Sophia stared at him. There was a lot to unpack there, not least of which was the fact that he had just confessed that he had been scared for her, an emotion Sophia didn't typically associate with firefighters. She certainly wouldn't have expected him to tell her, a complete stranger, about it.

"So I'm sorry I was rude," he finished. "It wasn't personal. And honestly, given how close that kid was drowning, having two of us there was probably a good thing."

Expressing emotion and sharing credit? Sophia wasn't entirely sure that the barista hadn't snuck shrooms into her Frappuccino and she was hallucinating right now. "Well, I agree," she said. "It was easier with two people. I could have done it, of course, but it would have taken me a lot longer."

The half-smile was back. "I have no doubt," he said, echoing his earlier words.

"And I know what you mean," Sophia said. For whatever reason, his being so open made her want to do the same. "I mean, every time you have to rescue an injured, good-intentioned civilian, I have another bed filled in my E.R."

"Scott always says we're all part of the same team, emergency services and hospitals."

"Scott?"

"My captain. You met him."

Sophia nodded. "Yes, the one with enough sense to let me go home."

"Yeah, he has a lot of that." Dean looked at her with a hopeful expression. "So, am I forgiven?" he asked. "I promise, asshole tendencies are not a norm for me."

Sophia let out a long, drawn-out sigh, and then took a long drag from her Frappuccino. "Well, I've been throwing darts at one of your Facebook pictures that I printed and taped to the wall, but I suppose I can take that down."

Sophia laughed as Dean's eyes grew wide and he scooted his chair back slightly from the table. "Relax," she told him. "I did not Facebook stalk you, so alas, no picture to throw darts at. If it helps, I haven't really thought about you since I left the beach."

And she hadn't. Sophia had been too preoccupied with thinking about the kid, hoping he was okay, while also coming to terms with the fact that she had jumped off the end of the pier to rescue a drowning child. And once she had come to terms, it was hard not to feel a little smug at her heroics.

But when it came to thinking, or not thinking, about Dean, Sophia figured these next two weeks would be a completely different story. The longer they sat together, the more time she had to take in the man sitting in front of her. And what a fucking man.

His eyes were one thing, the rest of him was something else. His dark hair, which had been plastered to his head when they met, was now dry and in a state of organized chaos. It didn't look like had just rolled out of bed, but it wasn't overly styled either. It looked like he had run his hands through it a few times in the mirror so that it wasn't going crazy and then called it a day. A few strands fell onto his forehead, curling up into loose waves. It was just long enough that Sophia had a sudden urge to run her hands through it.

And if that wasn't enough, she already knew he was tall, but now his broad shoulders made his t-shirt strain across his chest, emphasizing just how big he really was.

Her eyes flickered, for the tiniest part of a second, to his lips. She shot her gaze back up to his eyes, feeling her cheeks heat, and her shoulders sagged slightly in relief when it appeared he hadn't noticed her checking him out.

"I'm not sure if I should take that as a good thing or not," Dean said, the frown reappearing.

"Given that the alternative was me sitting around and hating your guts, I would say a good thing," Sophia reasoned. She dug a fingernail into her thigh to try and press down the sudden onslaught of attraction she felt for him. She had to get it together.

"Fair enough."

Now, Sophia wondered if he had thought about her in the past two weeks. She didn't ask.

"So were just joking about throwing darts at my picture, or about accepting my apology as well?"

"Just the darts," Sophia reassured him. He was still looking at her with that joyous light sparkling in his eyes, and it was almost unnerving. More and more, she was feeling self-conscious in front of him in her sweaty workout clothes, blotchy face, and ridiculous sugar drink. "You are forgiven, Firefighter Hawthorne."

"Thank God, for that," he said, another smile twitching on his perfect lips. "It was a rough two weeks, you know, thinking there was someone out there who hated me."

Sophia snorted. Not a particularly attractive sound, but he only grinned more. And not in a way that made her feel like he was making fun of her. "Because everyone loves you?"

"For the most part."

Sophia rolled her eyes. "Maybe I should hate you. Knock you down a few pegs."

But as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she could never follow through with that threat. Dean's puppy dog eyes made sure of that.

What was more infuriating was that she knew that he knew exactly what he was doing. His smug grin confirmed it.

"Right, well, you can rest easy knowing that you are unhated in the universe," Sophia assured him, feeling another wave of self-consciousness. "But I really should go." She didn't have anywhere to be, but she was also feeling too comfortable in the situation, which usually meant something was going to go wrong at any moment.

"Oh, right, of course."

If Sophia didn't know any better, she would say that Dean was almost disappointed that she was leaving.

"It was nice running into you, Dean," Sophia said.

"Likewise, Sophia."

She didn't want much more of a goodbye than that, so she picked up her stuff and hurried to the store's exit. She had almost made it to the door when she heard her name again.

Dean stood right behind her, towering over her with an almost shy look on his face. He held out a receipt. "Here," he said. "In case you ever want to, I don't know, talk more or whatever."

Sophia looked at the paper and her lips parted in surprise as she saw the phone number written on it. She looked up again at Dean.

Carefully, she put the slip of paper in the pocket of her leggings. "Maybe."

It was only when she was a couple of blocks away that she allowed her face to split into a grin and butterflies to erupt in her stomach. The emotion she had squashed with a trash compactor came rushing in, making her feel almost light-headed.

He was nice. And hot. And he actually listened to what she said. It hadn't been a date, but if it had been, it would have been one of the best dates Sophia had ever been on.

Yeah, but why would someone like that be interested in you?

Sophia stopped in her tracks, the grin sliding off her face and the warmth and butterflies in her stomach replaced by a frozen block of iron. It had been a long time since she had heard that voice in her head.

Scowling, she threw away her half-consumed Frappuccino into the nearest trash can. At least that was one benefit of the fact that she would probably never see Dean again. The less she had to hear that voice in her head, the better.

Fucking Graham.