Kissing the Beach Town Fire Chief
Prologue
Ami
The summer I turned ten, something shifted.
I started to realize boys weren’t all bad.
Except Ethan.
Ethan was still a total pain in my butt—my rival, my shadow, my personal tormentor. If I’d had a big brother, I’m sure he would’ve looked at me exactly the way Ethan did—half amused, half exasperated, like I was both a challenge and a puzzle he’d already solved.
Every summer before the accident that took my parents, we lived for these long, salt-soaked days in Seabrook. Ethan and I were beach kids—bare feet on hot sand, sticky fingers from boardwalk ice cream, and a never-ending scoreboard of who could win everything .
When we were little, he swore he’d grow up to drive a fire truck with the sirens blaring. I swore I’d write the great American novel. We both thought the other’s dream was ridiculous. Maybe we were right.
But that day, it was all about the Seabrook Sandcastle Competition.
“Sandcastle competition, huh? Ami, aren’t you a little old for that?” Ethan’s shadow fell over my carefully drawn blueprint.
“And you’re not?” I scooped another fistful of wet sand.
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss the chance to beat you again, Miss Castle Builder .” His grin made me want to hurl a sand bucket at his head.
We built side by side, the beach buzzing around us. My hands were coated in sand, my masterpiece slowly rising, while Ethan’s fortress took shape at an infuriating pace.
My towers wobbled. His stood tall.
The judges smiled at mine. They applauded his.
When the head judge handed Ethan the blue ribbon, he didn’t just win—he made sure I knew it.
“Better luck next time,” he murmured.
“You think you’re so great,” I shot back.
He winked. “No. I know I am.”
That was just one of many summers tangled up with Ethan—him winning, me plotting my revenge.
But this summer feels different.
I’m not the ten-year-old girl stomping down the beach in defeat anymore. I’m coming back to Seabrook older, wiser, and ready to give him a run for his money.
The only problem?
He’s still here—smirking like he already knows he’s going to win.
And for once, I’m not sure winning is the point.