Holiday Flame (Bringing Home Trouble)

Chapter 1

ONE

JADE

My big brother opens the door to our small town bar, and we’re greeted by the sound of a handful of lumberjacks singing along to “Jingle Bell Rock.”

“Whoa.” I blink in surprise as I take in the dozens of strands of multi-colored Christmas lights. “I know I’ve been gone for a while, but when did the Elk Shack become the North Pole?”

Maverick snorts. “Don’t say that around the mayor. He’ll probably use it as a marketing ploy to boost tourism.”

That notion captures my attention. With the marketing degree I just completed a week ago, I wouldn’t mind a job promoting my town.

“Do you know?—”

Before I can ask my brother if the town is hiring, an ear-splitting shriek cuts through the air.

“Oh my God, it’s Jade,” my best friend Mabel screams from the corner table in the back of the Elk Shack.

Dozens of pairs of eyes turn in unison to stare at me. My cheeks immediately flush.

“Great. So much for making a quiet entrance,” I mumble as I raise a hand to wave at the chorus of voices calling out greetings. “I’ll be lucky if I reach my seat in under half an hour.”

Mav chuckles. “People are just happy to see you.”

“You’d think I was Taylor Swift the way people are staring.”

“Maybe if you came home more often, people wouldn’t need to stare.”

While his tone is light and teasing, my stomach twists with guilt. “I know I should have made it back more. But first, there was summer school, then the study abroad opportunity, and the internship, and?—”

“It’s okay.” He slings an arm around my shoulder and gives me an affectionate squeeze. “You were living your life, and doing a damn good job of it. Besides, it’s water under the bridge. You’re back now.”

“Yes, I am.”

Back to Alaska. In a small town close to the land where my brother and I grew up and now own.

Mav gives another squeeze and whispers, “You make a run for it. I’ll cover for you.”

I beam at him. “You are the best brother. Ever.”

“Just remember that when Emerson and I need a babysitter.”

“Done.” I lean up to plant a kiss on his cheek before slipping away.

As I stealthily make my way across the bar, it’s like stepping into a time capsule of Santa’s workshop. The wooden floors are still scuffed from tables and chairs scraping along them. The walls are covered with vintage bar signs and plaques that read quirky holiday phrases, like “Reindeer Crossing.” The multi-colored lights flicker, casting their glow.

There’s also a lingering hint of smoke in the air, even though no one has been allowed to light up here for years.

There’s even the standard row of men wearing thick red and green sweaters hugging the bar. Though, now that I take a closer look, maybe they’re all sporting hair that’s grown thinner and more salt than pepper since I last set foot in these hallowed walls.

A grin tugs at my lips. “It’s good to be home.”

“Jade! Over here!” Mabel flails her arms in the air, nearly toppling over a row of glasses. “We’re over here.”

As if I—or anyone else in the bar—could miss her.

Reaching the table, I’m swept into a bear hug. Mabel squeezes me so tightly, that I can barely breathe. But her enthusiasm and show of love are contagious. I’m beaming by the time she pulls back and relinquishes me to our friends.

Piper, Astrid, Maxine, and Paisley—our fellow “Lunch Ladies” as we liked to call ourselves in high school—are more controlled, but no less enthusiastic with their greetings. We exchange hugs and exchanges of “You look amazing” and “No, you look amazing.”

As we settle into the booth, a sense of contentment settles over me. I feel good and truly at home now that I’m surrounded by my friends. We ate lunch together every day at school—hence our nickname. We went through everything together. Brutal teachers. First boyfriends. Our hopes and dreams.

We all kept in touch when we scattered away during college. We met up whenever we could and have a novel-length text thread. But this is the first time we’ve all been in the same place at the same time in years.

How have I stayed away from my people for so long?

We grab another round of drinks, which prompts the official start of our catch-up session. After filling everyone in on the details of my grad program and graduation, the conversation quickly switches to a recap of everyone’s dating life.

At least, almost everyone’s dating life. Considering how long it’s been since I’ve been out on a date—let alone been in a relationship—I don’t have much to add beyond listening to my friends. Often while trying to keep my jaw from dropping.

I nearly choke on my beer as Mabel finishes a story with, “… And I swear—hand to Bible—he nearly blinded me with a rope of cum to the face.”

The rest of the girls burst into laughter while I gape. A rope of… How is that even possible? Is it like silly string or something, spraying all over the place?

Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound healthy.

“You haven’t said much, Jade,” Piper grins at me over her green cocktail dubbed the Grinch. “You must have lots of stories about the guys you dated in Seattle.”

“Oh, yeah. You know how it is…” My cheeks have to be burning as I look around for something—anything—to help me change the subject. “Just… buckets of cum everywhere,” I toss out with a wince, remembering another comment Mabel once made in our text thread.

Piper’s jaw drops while Astrid and Paisley burst into laughter. Maxine looks at me thoughtfully. And Mabel frowns.

I avoid making eye contact with anyone, hoping it’ll be enough to make everyone lose interest. “My brother says the smokejumpers are having a Christmas party this weekend. I could probably get you all invites if you like.”

“Mav already invited us,” Mabel says dismissively as she cocks her head to the side. “When we talked last month, you said you weren’t dating anyone.”

I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat. “I wasn’t.”

“So who has been leaving buckets of cum all over your place?”

“Oh, God.” I bury my face in my hands.

“It’s okay,” Maxine says quickly. “We can talk about something else.”

“No—no. It’ll come out at some point.” Dropping my hands into my lap, I stare at a scratch on the table. “I—I—I haven’t ever… done it.”

There’s a collective gasp. I desperately wish there was a trapdoor under my seat—or an ejector button. Anything to help me disappear immediately.

“But you’re almost twenty-five,” Paisley says. When I frown at her, she quickly adds, “Not that there’s anything wrong. I just… I had no idea. That’s all.”

“Are you waiting until marriage or something?” Piper asks.

“Or maybe you aren’t interested in sex, and that’s okay too,” Maxine says, giving a warning look around the table.

“It’s not like I’m waiting for marriage, or that I’m not interested.” I chew on my bottom lip, trying to figure out how to explain this to the women I’ve always been able to tell everything to before. Well, everything but my lack of sex life. “I… I guess I was waiting for the right guy. When I didn’t meet him, I focused on other things. Before I knew it…”

I was a 25-year-old virgin.

When I finally muster up the courage to look at my friends, I see them all eyeing me with sympathy. As if they understand better than I do why I’ve waited so long. Relief washes over me. I don’t know what I expected to see.

But their understanding means more than I can put into words.

“Okay, how about this?” Mabel leans forward. We all follow suit so we can hear her lowered voice above the bustling crowd. “I say you’re overthinking the whole sex thing. I say you give yourself a little Christmas present and seduce the next man who walks into the bar.”

We all pull back in varying shades of disgust.

“She can’t do that,” Astrid protests. “What if the next guy is married?”

“Or a total dog?” Paisley asks.

“Or—worse—he could listen to Joe Rogan,” Piper adds.

They nod in unison while I’m still too stunned to speak. I mean, seriously. How can Mabel even suggest something like this? If it was that simple, or easy, wouldn’t I have done it already?

Does she really think that after all this time, I’d be fine boning some random dude?

I’m about to ask that very question—or at least try—when Maxine quietly interjects. “Actually, Mabel may be on to something.”

Everyone—except the genius in question—turns to gape at her.

“But—”

“I’m not saying Jade needs to sleep with the next man who walks into the bar. Or even the next guy who crosses her path. But”—Maxine holds up a hand before anyone can speak—“and this is the most important part if she—if you”—she directs her stare at me—“really ready to take this step. There are benefits of a mutually beneficial, purely physical relationship.”

“A physical-only relationship,” I repeat slowly as if I’m trying the words out for size or to see how they taste on my tongue.

“Absolutely. Approach it from a place of curiosity. A place of pure enjoyment without worrying about anything else.”

“So I’d look for a guy who only wants to spend time in bed?”

“Like that’ll be hard to find.” Astrid snorts. When four pairs of eyes land on her, her cheeks turn pink. “What? We all know most of the guys on dating apps are just looking to get someone into bed.”

“Which is exactly what Jade is looking for,” Mabel reminds her.

Paisley shakes her head. “I don’t know. Some of the men have to be looking for the real thing. Love. Commitment. Baking cookies together on a Saturday afternoon.”

“Ooh, cookies sound good.” Piper catches herself before licking her lips. “Sorry. I worked through lunch today. I would do bad, bad things for a plate of cookies.”

“Put a pin in that thought.” Mabel wiggles her eyebrows. “You might be able to give our friend Jade some tips about the kinds of bad things a lady could do to earn some cookies.”

Piper and I exchange looks and turn matching shades of pink.

Wanting to help her out, I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay. I’m going to stop worrying so much and just approach… sex,” I practically whisper the word, “from a place of curiosity and enjoyment.”

And maybe I won’t go into the new year a virgin after all.

“It’s too bad you didn’t decide to seduce the next guy who walked into the bar,” Mabel says. “I don’t think you’d mind finding him wrapped up with a bow under your tree.”

We all turn to see who she is talking about and my heart jolts. It’s Remington. One of my brother’s best friends and fellow smokejumpers.

With his tall, broad-shouldered frame, he saunters across the bar with a gait that seems to exude confidence and sexuality. His beard is growing in thicker, a sign that wildfire season is over, and he can let it grow free until the next year rolls around.

While I can’t quite see them, I know his dark brown eyes are rich like chocolate. And every bit as sinful.

I press my thighs together at the unexpected warmth suddenly between them.

Remington is a man with plenty of notches on his bedpost and a cell phone full of numbers to very satisfied ladies. That’s definitely not the kind of guy you’d take home to celebrate Christmas with my family. But if the stories are right, he’s the exact kind of man to introduce a woman to the… enjoyment she might find in bed.

Remington. A slow grin spreads across my lips.