Chapter 4
By Friday afternoon, Blaze was dressed and ready nearly an hour early.
Not because he was nervous.
At least that’s what he kept telling himself.
The truth sat somewhere lower in his chest, heavier and harder to ignore. Anticipation had been stalking him all damn day, sharpening his focus until even the smallest things felt louder than usual.
A grown man should not be standing in front of a mirror debating shirts like his emotional stability depended on cotton blends.
Blaze Carter ran into burning buildings for a living.
He carried unconscious people down smoke-filled stairwells.
Stayed calm during emergencies.
Made decisions under pressure.
Yet somehow one evening with Johanna Bennett had him questioning denim choices like a fool.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered.
His reflection looked entirely unimpressed by the situation.
The navy button-down made him look too serious.
The fitted black T-shirt looked dangerous in ways that would absolutely distract him from his original goal of behaving like a mature adult.
The charcoal sweater made him resemble a man who owned expensive wine opinions.
Blaze dragged one hand down his face.
This was exactly why he loved uniforms. They never asked him to be vulnerable. They told him exactly who he was and what he needed to do.
His phone buzzed across the dresser.
RYAN: If you wear the black shirt, that woman will rethink her decision.
Blaze frowned and glanced toward the bedroom window because Ryan was exactly the kind of nosy fool who would absolutely drive past his house to spy.
Another message appeared.
MACKENZIE: Ignore Ryan. Wear dark jeans. Women notice dark jeans.
Blaze snorted softly and tossed the phone onto the bed.
Sheraton Beach was too small.
That was the real problem.
Nothing stayed private here. A man couldn’t even prepare for a date without half the town acting emotionally invested.
Eventually, he settled on a crisp rust-colored button-down rolled at the sleeves, dark jeans fitted perfectly through the hips and thighs, and brown Timberland boots. Clean. Masculine. Simple enough not to look like he was trying too hard.
Even though he absolutely was.
When he fastened his watch, his eyes landed on the framed photo sitting on the dresser beside the bed.
Him and his mother were pictured together at his fire academy graduation.
His mother had cried that day. Not because she doubted him. Because she understood what it cost him to become the kind of man people could rely on. Blaze had spent most of his life trying to become everything his father wasn’t. Reliable. Steady. Present.
The exact opposite of a man who disappeared before his son’s second birthday and never looked back.
Four months ago, Blaze had come back to Sheraton Beach telling himself it was temporary. Just a reset before he figured out his next move.
Blaze exhaled slowly.
No.
He wasn’t carrying that baggage tonight.
Johanna deserved better than sitting across from a man trapped in old regrets.
Tonight wasn’t about guilt or history. Or mistakes he couldn’t undo. Tonight was about one chance. One evening to remind Johanna there had been something beautiful between them before everything fell apart.
And maybe, if the universe decided to show him mercy, one chance to make her laugh again the way she used to.
That was all he wanted.
Mostly.
He slipped into a leather jacket, grabbed the bouquet from the kitchen counter, and headed outside.
Cold February evening air greeted him the second he stepped onto the porch of his renovated craftsman near the marina. The setting sun painted Sheraton Beach in soft gold and amber while boats rocked gently against their slips in the distance.
At this hour, the town became dangerous.
The light softened everything. The ocean breeze carried possibility through the streets. Even heartbreak looked survivable in weather like this.
Blaze climbed into his truck and headed toward Main Street with his nerves sitting entirely too close to the surface.
By the time he pulled onto Johanna’s block, he had regained and lost confidence at least five times.
Then he saw her building.
The renovated brick storefront sat above a boutique selling handmade jewelry and coastal home décor. Black shutters framed tall windows overflowing with flower boxes, and warm amber light glowed softly behind the curtains upstairs.
The place suited her perfectly. Beautiful without trying too hard. Welcoming without revealing too much. Carefully put together while still feeling lived in.
Just like Johanna.
Blaze grabbed the flowers and stepped onto the sidewalk. Before he reached the stairs, the door of the antique shop next door swung open.
Ms. Adele Jenkins leaned outside wearing a purple cardigan and the expression of a woman fully prepared to involve herself in somebody else’s business.
“Evening, Braxton.”
Blaze stopped. “Evening, Miss Adele.”
Her eyes traveled over him. “You look handsome tonight.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You nervous?”
Blaze looked at her.
She smiled knowingly.
Nosy as hell.
“No, ma’am.”
“Lying to elders damages the spirit.”
A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded toward the stairs. “Go get your woman.”
Blaze blinked once. “She’s not—”
Miss Adele raised one eyebrow.
“…yet,” Blaze finished carefully.
Now she smiled. “That’s better.”
Sheraton Beach truly was too damn small.
He climbed the stairs and stopped outside Johanna’s apartment door. For one brief moment, he stood completely still.
Not because he didn’t know what to say.
But because this mattered.
He’d walked her home after football games, kissed her beneath boardwalk lights, and held her hand on quiet beaches beneath summer stars while believing loving Johanna Bennett would always be the easiest thing he'd ever do.
Then life happened. He made mistakes, chased the wrong things, and convinced himself there would always be time to fix what was broken. By the time he realized otherwise, he'd already lost her.
Blaze closed his eyes briefly before knocking. A few seconds passed. Then the door opened. And every coherent thought disappeared from his head.
Johanna stood there in a crimson-red wrap dress that skimmed every curve he already remembered too well. The warm color deepened the richness of her brown skin while the fitted waist and slit along one thigh nearly knocked the breath straight out of him.
Her curls were pinned loosely to one side, exposing the elegant line of her neck and small gold hoops brushing against her jaw every time she moved.
And her lips…
Jesus.
That soft berry gloss looked dangerous.
“Damn.”
The word escaped before he could stop it. No charm or game. Just the truth.
Johanna’s eyebrows lifted. “Was that your opening line?”
Blaze let his gaze travel over her without apology.
“I had one planned.”
“What happened to it?”
“You opened the door.”
Color warmed her cheeks before she looked away.
There it was. That soft flush he used to love causing when they were younger. Satisfaction settled low in Blaze’s chest.
He held out the bouquet.
Johanna looked down at the flowers and something in her expression softened before she could hide it.
Not roses.
He knew better than to buy her roses.
The bouquet held sunflowers, white daisies, and lavender tied with cream ribbon.
Her favorites.
Or at least they used to be.
“You remembered,” she said quietly.
Blaze kept his voice low.
“The florist tried talking me out of the sunflowers,” he admitted. “Said they weren’t easy to get this time of year.”
Johanna looked up. “But you got them anyway.”
His gaze held hers steadily. “Yeah.”
Something flickered across her face then.
Old tenderness. A little caution.
Then she stepped aside. “Come inside for a minute.”
Blaze entered carefully and instantly failed at not looking around too closely.
Her apartment smelled like vanilla candles, citrus, and something floral drifting softly through the air. Cream-colored furniture softened the living room while shelves lined with books, framed photographs, and candles made the space feel intimate without trying too hard.
The windows overlooking Main Street glowed gold beneath the sunset.
The apartment felt exactly like her.
Warm.
Beautiful.
Carefully guarded.
Blaze watched quietly while Johanna arranged the flowers in water, her movements graceful and familiar enough to ache.
“You could’ve shown up empty-handed,” she said.
He nodded. “I could have.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Nope.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Why?”
I wanted to see if your eyes still softened over small things.
Because missing you never really stopped.
Blaze swallowed those truths carefully.
Instead, he said, “You like sunflowers.”
Johanna smiled faintly while adjusting the stems in the vase. “Used to.”
Blaze leaned one shoulder against the wall and said, “Liar.”
Her eyes lifted. “You still call people out like you’re trying to start arguments.”
“Only when I’m right.”
“That must leave you a lot of free time.”
He laughed softly.
And there it was again. That old rhythm. Easy. Sharp and familiar enough to hurt.
Johanna grabbed a coat and a small clutch from the entry table before turning toward him. “So where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Her expression flattened. “I hate surprises.”
“You used to love surprises.”
“I also used to wear blue glitter eyeshadow.” She shrugged elegantly. “Growth happens.”
Blaze stepped closer before he could stop himself. Not enough to touch her. Enough to feel the shift in the air between them. “You’re still bossy.”
“And you’re still annoying.”
“But you’re still coming with me.” It wasn’t a question.
Johanna paused. Then lifted her chin with all that Bennett pride he remembered so well.
“One date.”
“One date,” he agreed quietly.
But as Blaze followed her toward the door, one thing settled into his chest with absolute certainty.
One date was never going to be enough.
* * *