Frostbite & Mistletoe (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters #18)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Bearpaw Ridge, Idaho

Kymberlie Tringstad pulled a tray holding another round of beers across the granite bar top, her movements deft and easy.

The Hair of the Dog was crowded tonight, shoulder to shoulder with locals and out-of-towners alike. Black Friday drew them in, thirsty and ready for a break from a couple of busy days of entertaining and shopping.

This was her territory, humming and alive. Tonight’s live band, Cowboy Crush, made her toes tap and her hips sway as she worked. On a night like this, she could almost forget about the silent house waiting for her after work.

“Two more IPAs for table seven,” she called to her bartender Micah, a whip-thin wolf shifter who handled the rush with a grin and fast hands.

Her enhanced senses sliced through the sweat and perfume, the fried food, and the tang of beer, picking up on everything that mattered—the bikers at the bar about to order another round, the beer spill near the restrooms, a cluster by the dance floor getting rowdy.

She didn’t even have to look; her staff was already moving. Her server, Karl, mop in his hand, passed her on his way to the spill, and her assistant manager (and cousin) Zoey was moving in to handle the rowdies.

“Kymber, we’re running low on the seasonal ale,” Micah called.

“I’ll get another keg after I check the kitchen.” She went around to the back of the bar and squeezed past him, tossing a grin at a group of regulars at the corner table.

From the highway, The Hair of the Dog looked like a movie set from an old Western, all weathered wood false front and neon beer advertisements hanging in the windows, but inside, she’d made sure her place looked welcoming and worked like a machine to never miss a beat.

She was halfway to the kitchen when the scent hit her—a sudden, unmistakable note of bear shifter. Not just any bear, either. She turned, scanning over the crowd, and there they were: Maggie and Cade Swanson, picking their way through the packed tables.

Maggie’s auburn hair gleamed under the lights, her laughter bright, while Cade loomed at her side, shouldering through the crowd like a scarred but good-natured grizzly.

Kymberlie changed direction on the fly, weaving through the tangle of bodies without losing speed.

It had been a while since her friends had shown up here for a date night, what with Maggie running Cinnamon + Sugar these days, Cade managing the Grizzly Creek Ranch, and the two of them parenting an adorable but active little boy.

“Well, look what the bear dragged in,” Kymberlie called, striding over to catch Maggie in a quick hug. “Don’t tell me you two are actually taking a night off?”

Maggie’s hazel eyes sparkled. “Mom swore she could handle morning prep. She threatened to hide my aprons if I didn’t take time out for something other than a fire call.”

“Well, you guys are a sight for sore eyes.” Kymberlie turned to Cade. The big, scarred bear shifter gave her his usual shy smile. “Let me get you some drinks and an order of our new seasoned curly fries on the house. Your usual booth’s taken, but I’ve got one in the back for my VIPs.”

She led them through the crowd, all of them fielding greetings from customers as they passed.

“Busy night,” Cade said, settling into the booth.

“Black Friday,” Kymberlie replied, rolling her eyes. “People need a break after cooking all that food yesterday and then fighting the crowds downtown today. What’ll you have? First round’s on me.”

“You don’t have to do that, Kymber,” Maggie protested.

“Family discount.” Kymberlie winked.

The Swansons might be bear shifters, but they were also kin, thanks to several marriages between the Jacobsen wolf pack and the Swanson clan. Even before that, the wolf shifters and bear shifters of Bearpaw Ridge had stood together for more years than anyone cared to count.

She took their orders and returned in no time, Cade’s beer and Maggie’s hard cider in hand. She slid into the booth across from them, letting herself relax for just a breath.

“So,” Maggie said, her voice sly, “Cousin Ellie told me you had another ShiftMatch date last weekend. How’d it go?”

Kymberlie groaned, flopping her head back. “Don’t even start. I should’ve known better than to try dating a coyote shifter. He spent all night pitching his latest crypto scheme.”

Cade snorted into his beer. Maggie laughed, covering her mouth.

“That’s what, four ShiftMatch bombs since Halloween?” Smiling, Maggie started counting on her fingers. “The eagle shifter who hated heights, that wolf shifter who kept comparing you to his ex…”

“And the guy who turned out to be married-but-not-mated to an Ordinary,” Kymberlie added, dry as dust. “I swear, ShiftMatch needs to hire a private investigator.”

She made it sound like a joke, and maybe it was. To everyone in town, her dating life was a punchline. It just didn’t feel that funny anymore.

“Maybe it’s not ShiftMatch,” Cade said. “Maybe your wolf’s just waiting for someone specific.”

“Like my bear was.” Maggie turned to her mate, and her expression softened, her smile turning positively sappy.

Kymberlie let herself sigh, the laughter dropping away.

“Trust me, I’ve thought about it. Every time I meet someone, my wolf just shuts down.

It’s like she’s waiting for something in particular, but nobody’s ever come close.

” She traced a finger through the ring of condensation on the polyurethane-coated wooden tabletop.

“Most nights, after closing down this place, the quiet in my house is so loud it hurts my ears.”

She saw the pity in Maggie’s eyes and forced herself to laugh. “Ignore me. The holiday season always makes me sappy.”

Maggie reached for her hand. “Your mate is out there, Kymber. You just have to be patient.”

“Maybe.” Kymberlie shrugged. “Or maybe I’m doomed to run solo. Anyway, I’d better get back to work before my staff mutinies.”

Cade surprised her once more. “Good things come to those who wait, Kymberlie. Sometimes you only find what you need when you stop looking.”

Coming from him, it hit differently. Kymberlie nodded, tucking the words away.

“I’ll remember that. You two enjoy yourselves. This band’s on fire tonight, and my kitchen’s got a new bourbon bacon burger that’s already a hit.”

She rose and left them. Her smile faded as soon as her back was turned. Inside her, her wolf twisted restlessly, longing for something just out of reach—a scent, a presence she could never quite find.

Patience only gets you so far when you’re turning thirty right after New Year.

Then she squared her shoulders and pushed it all down. She had the bar, friends, and her pack’s respect. The only thing missing was a mate. But if that wasn’t in the cards for her, she’d just have to live with it.

The band launched into a new song, and the crowd hooted and clapped rhythmically to the beat. Kymberlie slipped into the kitchen, losing herself in the rhythm of expediting orders and managing the usual chaos.

If she worked a little harder and smiled a little brighter, maybe no one would notice the emptiness at her center.

∞∞∞

Kymberlie had just finished muscling the new keg of Broken Antler Autumn Ale into place when she sensed something was wrong. The hair on her arms prickled as her inner wolf came alert. She whipped her head around and drew in a deep breath.

Almost buried under the usual stew of beer, grease, and too many people was a sharper, nastier smell: the acrid tang of burning plastic.

Uh-oh. That can’t be good.

She tracked the smell to her storeroom. It grew stronger with every step.

Out on the floor, the band slammed into a chorus, and the sound of dancers’ feet picked up.

A sharp pop and an electrical sizzle split the air from the main electrical panel mounted on the back wall. The breaker box, overloaded from every direction, spat blue-white sparks. A thread of smoke curled up.

“Shit,” Kymberlie hissed, lunging for the main breaker.

Even moving at shifter speed, she couldn’t reach it in time.

With a crack like a gunshot, sparks erupted from the flat metal box. Flames shot up the wall and raced for the ceiling.

The nearest smoke alarm began shrilling.

The club’s lights flickered, then went out. Cowboy Crush’s music died mid-note, plunging the club into an uneasy silence broken only by scattered questions. After a second, the emergency lights kicked on.

Someone shouted from the dance floor: “I smell smoke!”

The tension in the storm of questions that followed snapped like a live wire. Kymberlie smelled the sharp odor of fear suddenly cutting through the fog of food, sweat, and beer.

If a stampede started, someone could get hurt—or worse.

Kymberlie sprinted out of the storeroom and leaped up on the low stage. She faced the dance floor.

“Hey, everyone, we’re having a minor issue in our storeroom. I want everyone to exit calmly,” she ordered, her voice sounding weirdly calm despite her inner turmoil. “Staff, open all the doors. Now!”

They moved fast. As her employees opened the main doors and shoved open the fire exit next to the stage, Kymberlie grabbed her phone from her jeans pocket and punched in 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?” Kymberlie recognized the voice. It was the county’s newest dispatcher, Emily Clarke-Swanson.

“Hey, Em, this is Kymberlie Tringstad over at The Hair of the Dog,” Kymberlie replied, watching as her customers flowed out of the club and into the parking lot.

Maggie and Cade were helping her staff direct traffic and maintain order among her departing guests.

“I’ve got an electrical fire in my storeroom, back wall, and it’s spreading fast. We’re evacuating the club now. ” She rattled off her address.

“Any injuries?” Emily asked.

“No, thank God,” Kymberlie replied. “And the building’s almost empty now.”

“Good. Fire department’s on the way,” Emily said.

“Thanks!” Kymberlie disconnected the call.

She saw Maggie and Cade herding the last of the customers through the front doors, followed by Micah, Karl, Zoey, and the kitchen staff.

She raced back to the storeroom and froze in the doorway. A sick feeling raced through her gut.

In the brief time it had taken her to start evacuation and contact 911, the fire had already chewed its way up the wall and was hungrily licking across the ceiling. Heat blasted her face, sweat beading instantly.

Smoke clawed at her throat, thick and choking.

She yanked the hallway fire extinguisher from its mount and aimed at the base of the fire, sweeping the nozzle side to side. The chemical spray hissed, but the flames barely slowed. The old wooden building was too dry, and the fire had already dug its claws in deep.

“Kymber!” Maggie’s voice, urgent and close. Kymberlie turned her head and saw her friend standing next to Cade at the edge of the hallway. “You need to get out! Now!”

And simply abandon her club to the fire’s voracious appetite? Hell no.

Bearpaw Ridge had an all-volunteer fire department, its firefighters scattered throughout the town and its outlying farms and ranches.

It would take precious time for them to get to The Hair of the Dog, located just off the highway ten minutes north of town.

“But I can still—” Kymberlie started, never letting up on the fire extinguisher.

Maggie and Cade moved as one, fast as a pair of striking snakes, each grabbing one of her arms. “Not worth your life. C’mon,” growled Cade.

“We’ll do what we can before the others arrive,” Maggie assured her. Like Cade, Maggie was a volunteer firefighter, though the two of them wouldn’t be able to do much without hoses or other equipment to fight the fire.

Knowing that even her enhanced wolf shifter strength was no match for one bear shifter, let alone two, Kymberlie let herself be dragged toward the exit. She was still clutching the useless extinguisher.

Her eyes stung, not only from the smoke. Years of work, everything she cared about, all burning in front of her. And there was nothing she could do.

I’m not going to cry, dammit!

As they passed through the bar and dining room area, the overhead sprinklers finally kicked on, spattering her with foul-smelling water.

As she, Maggie, and Cade emerged from the now-empty club, the frosty night air slapped her face and bare arms. She instantly regretted not grabbing her coat and purse from her tiny office next to the storeroom.

People clustered together on the wide gravel parking lot that surrounded the club, staring at the dancing orange light in the windows as the fire spread.

Kymberlie stared at the destruction, her body shaking. She wanted to throw up.

Maggie left her side and sprinted over to a big white pickup truck with the Grizzly Creek Ranch logo on the doors. Kymberlie knew that the volunteer firefighters always kept their helmets and turnouts in their vehicles.

“The rest of the fire department will be here any second,” Cade said, patting Kymberlie on her shoulder. “We’ll do what we can.”

Then he turned and ran to join Maggie in putting on his gear.

A muffled roar rolled out of the building. She heard a back window blow out, and saw the golden glow of flames on the gravel. Her knees buckled.

She hardly noticed when Zoey draped a blanket around her shivering shoulders.

Kymberlie’s wolf howled in her mind, wild with anger and loss. Sirens wailed in the distance, but she knew, deep down, that they’d arrive too late.

The Hair of the Dog was burning down in front of her, along with all her hopes and dreams. And she was powerless to stop it.