Chapter 8
Smoldering Truths
Ember
The rental car hums as I drive along the winding roads, leaving Peachwood Grove behind.
The town, with its weeping willows and magnolia trees, fades into the rearview mirror, replaced by the rolling hills and open roads leading to Atlanta.
The sky is a brilliant blue that stretches endlessly above me.
Ryan’s face lingers in my mind, as do his warm brown eyes and that easy smile.
Our time together has been like something out of one of my romance novels—unexpected, passionate, and full of chemistry.
Last night, I felt precious and worshiped.
The memory of Ryan’s strong hands, his mouth, the way he touched me like I was something sacred—it sends heat through me even now.
God, that man is dangerous to my resolve.
I can still feel his touch on my skin, the way he held me close as if afraid I’d disappear if he let go.
But reality looms ahead, as daunting as the skyscrapers marking Atlanta’s skyline. My responsibilities in Atlanta await me; the unfinished projects, the clients counting on me, and Marcus’s looming presence.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I’ve faced challenges before; this is only another one to navigate.
As I drive through the familiar streets of Atlanta, I can’t help longing for Peachwood Grove’s slower pace and close-knit community. It’s strange how quickly a place—and a person—can feel like home.
My phone buzzes on the passenger seat, and I glance over to see Ryan’s name flash across the screen. A smile tugs at my lips as I reach for it.
“Hey,” I answer, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rush of emotions flooding me.
“Hey yourself.” Ryan’s deep voice is warm and reassuring. “I wanted to check in. How’s the drive going?”
“It’s good,” I reply. “I’m in the city limits.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I can almost picture him running a hand through his thick light brown hair, his jaw tight and his brows furrowed in thought.
“The house feels too quiet without you,” he admits softly.
“I miss you too,” I confess.
We talk a bit more before ending the call. I let his words linger in my mind. Right now, knowing he longs for me is all I need as I return to my Atlanta existence, guiding the car into the concrete parking structure.
My heels click against the polished floor as I stride into the law office, my tablet clutched to my chest like armor, with my boho bag on my shoulder. Atlanta’s skyline stretches through the glass walls—a reminder of everything I’m leaving behind, and for a moment, my heart aches.
“Ember.” My lawyer and good friend, Patricia Stewart, waves me into her corner office. “I’ve reviewed the documentation from Marcus’s latest activities.”
I sink into the leather chair and tap my finger on the iPad, which I’m still clutching.
“I’ve finished reviewing the proposal for the company division you gave me.
I want to retain rights to my original client list, all creative properties, and any events planned under my name.
As far as accounts for the next year, I will receive thirty percent of the profit.
He wants me out, then he will give me my share. ”
Patricia adjusts her glasses, scanning my documents.
“This is thorough, I love it!” She takes her Apple pen and marks through the thirty percent.
“Absolutely not; you deserve a minimum of fifty percent, but we’re going in at sixty-five.
We can negotiate from there. Are you good with that? ” She smirks, and I nod my head.
“Do you think Marcus will agree to these points? I don’t think it’s ridiculous. He’s keeping the staff, everyone I mentored, and all my vendor contracts and price negotiations.”
Patricia shakes her head. “You are, my friend, a million-dollar business—not ridiculous, stop lowering your worth. Marcus is an asshole and savvy. He won’t give up easily, but luckily, I’m just as tenacious, and I never lose. Also, you know that man is a bit terrified of me and my connections.”
“I know.” My voice stays steady even as my hands tremble slightly. “But I’m done letting him dictate my future in his greed. I’m considering plans for a fresh start.”
“Atlanta, of course, right? I mean, with a business savvy like yours, you could do anything in this city.”
I love how supportive Patricia is, and I needed to hear it. “You’re not going to believe this, but I’m considering the small town where my friend Nic Blevins lives. Have you heard of Peachwood Grove?”
“Only from you—but wait, isn’t that romance author there… Brittany—”
“Yes, Brittany Quinn. She’s great. But there’s also… Ryan, you know, the firefighter I mentioned.”
Patricia’s manicured brow arches. “Ryan McCallister, right? Tell me more about this firefighter who’s caught your attention. Tell me he’s hunky and right out of a calendar good-looking.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “He was there when I crashed my car, and something... clicked. Like fate. And yes, model good looking.”
“Nice, so you’re not there temporarily? You’re considering staying in Peachwood Grove.
” Patricia stands, circles her desk, and perches on the edge near me.
“Listen, Ember. I’ve watched you pour your heart and time into that business for years.
Marcus might have the connections, but you have the talent.
And if this small town—and this firefighter—make you light up like this, then do it. ”
She hugs me tight, her designer perfume wrapping around me like a crisp expensive blanket. “You focus on your fresh start. I’ll handle Marcus and his army of lawyers. Trust me, they won’t know what hit them.”
“Thank you, Patricia. For everything.”
She steps back, straightening her blazer. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m coming to visit soon. I need to scope out this firefighter and ensure he’s worthy of my favorite client and friend.”
“Patricia!”
“What? Can’t a lawyer do a little... background check? I need to make sure he’s worthy of my favorite client. And maybe scope out this small town everyone’s raving about.” She winks. “Now go. Build a new dream. I’ve got this covered.”
I leave Patricia’s office feeling lighter than I have in months, and by the time I’m back in Peachwood Grove, I know where I want to be.
The late afternoon sun streams through the windows of the restored Magnolia Hall as I measure the space between pillars. I sketch into my iPad when heavy boots echo across the hardwood floors.
“Fancy running into you here.” Ryan’s warm voice fills the room.
I spin around, my heart skipping. “I could say the same, but you knew I was here; I texted you earlier.”
“Looking at backup locations for the fundraiser. In case of rain. Yes, I got that text.” He steps closer, gesturing to the high ceilings. “Seeing the weather forecast, I was thinking we needed an option, but of course, you beat me to it.”
“Great minds think alike.” I slide my finger across the tablet. “See this layout? We could transform the space with strategic lighting, create intimate zones while maintaining flow.”
Ryan leans in, his shoulder brushing mine. “I love how you view things differently. The way you piece it all together...”
“Sometimes I worry I get too caught up in the details. This is a backup plan.” I trace the outline of my drawing. “Back in Atlanta, I was told to focus on profit margins, not...” I pause, searching for words.
“Not what?”
“The heart of it. Creating moments that bring people together, that celebrate what makes a community special.” I look up at him. “Like your house and crew.”
His eyes soften. “You know, when Uncle Jimmy first mentioned bringing in an event planner, I was skeptical. Thought it’d be all glitz, no substance.”
“And now?”
“Now I see someone who understands what we’re about. Who gets that it’s more than raising money.” He touches my wrist gently. “How you talk about your vision—it’s what will drive the community to the fundraiser to participate.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Yeah?”
“I’m not saying that because your planning flaming desserts at the VIP tables.”
I laugh, the sound echoing through the empty hall. “That was supposed to be a surprise!”
Ryan shifts his weight, hands sliding into his pockets. “Speaking of surprises... how’d it go in Atlanta? With the lawyer?”
I lean against one of the pillars, letting out a long breath I fill him in. “Patricia’s handling everything. She’s like a shark in Chanel—Marcus won’t know what hit him.”
“Marcus...” Ryan’s jaw tightens. “Your ex-business partner?”
“Yeah. He’s been...” I wave my hand, searching for the right words. “Let’s say he recently tanked my chances at this amazing position with a global hotel chain. Dream job territory. He’s trying to make it so I can’t work as an event planner.”
Ryan’s shoulders tense. “He deliberately sabotaged you?”
“Oh yeah. He called them and told them some stories about my ‘unstable business practices.’ Patricia’s building a case for defamation on top of the buyout negotiations.”
Ryan steps closer, his expression dark. “Were you and him ever...”
A laugh bursts out of me, echoing through the empty hall. “God, no! Marcus’s relationships are strictly with men—and those don’t last long. His only true love is his bank account and people who worship him.”
The tension in Ryan’s shoulders eases, but his protective stance remains. “Still doesn’t make it right, what he did to you.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I reach out, touching his arm. “I love that you’re ready to fight my battles for me, Captain.”
“I don’t enjoy seeing people hurt others I care about.” He cups my face. “Especially you.”
I step into Ryan’s space, smoothing my hands over his defined chest. “Well, Patricia’s got the legal side covered, but I wouldn’t say no to a captain in my corner.”
He places his hand over my hand on his chest.
“I’m in your corner, Ember.”
Warmth spreads through me at his confession. I pop up on my toes and kiss him in a way that lingers.
“Thank you, Ryan. That means more to me, than you know.”