Chapter 8 #2
We hop off the truck, and I settle into lieutenant mode. Helmet under my arm, boots crunching over frosted sand.
“Let’s make sure the perimeter is still marked like it should be,” I call, and the guys fan out, checking cones and stakes, running rope. Routine. Predictable. The kind of muscle memory we’ve lived in for years.
But even while I'm doing it, my eyes keep tracking the crowd.
I'm looking for her.
And when I spot her—there it is. That sharp, stupid thump behind my ribs.
Emmy stands near the rope line, bundled in a cream coat, hair in a braid over one shoulder, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. She’s holding something. A thermos, I think.
“There you are,” she calls out, cutting right through the noise.
I swear the damn world narrows until it’s just the two of us.
I stride over, stopping at the rope between us. “Hey, gorgeous.”
She lifts the thermos, a little grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I brought caffeine. In case you’re running low.”
I take it from her, letting my fingers brush hers. “You trying to butter up the guy responsible for keeping this thing from roasting the whole town?”
Her grin widens. “Always. Seems to work on you.”
It does. Way too well.
I want to touch her—her cheek, her hair, her waist—but half the town is milling around and my crew has eyes like hawks when they want gossip.
So I settle for a low murmur. “Everything going well over at Dockside?”
“Oh my god, Hayes!” Her excitement is immediate, bright. “It’s amazing. We got everything set up and we’ll be ready to open the doors again tomorrow.”
“Right in time for my after-shift caffeine fix.” I wink.
Her cheeks flame, and she nudges the toe of my boot with hers. “Should I let you get back to your supervisory duties?”
“We’re about to light it,” I say, glancing back at the towering stack of wood. “Stay close, okay? Winds shift fast.”
“I will,” she promises.
“Hayes! Ready when you are!” one of my guys calls.
I sigh. Damn, she makes leaving hard. “Don’t go far. I’ll be back.”
I jog toward the crew, slipping into work mode. We double-check hose lines, confirm wind direction, and prep the ignition torch. All textbook.
The second the flame touches the base of the pile and the fire roars up—low at first, then climbing in a fast, hungry curl of orange—I look for her.
Not the fire’s behavior.
Not the crowd’s reaction.
Her.
So much for work first. Em second.
She’s right at the front of the rope, eyes wide, face bright from the reflected heat.
And God help me… I feel my heart crack open completely.
I’m screwed.
Head over heels. Madly and truly in love with Emmy Alder.
A fact that I’ve known, deep down, for far too long.
Last night didn’t scratch the surface of whatever’s happening between us.
And I want more.
All of it.
Without hesitation.
Fuck. She damn well better feel the same.
The second I know everything is handled, my gaze goes right back to her.
Emmy catches me staring.
Of course she does.
She walks along the rope line toward where I’m standing, boots sinking into the snow-covered ground, coat pulled tight around her. When she reaches me, she dips her head a little, that sweet grin curving her lips.
She glances toward the fire, then back at me. “You guys make this look easy.”
“We train for it,” I say, stepping just a little too close. “But the crowd makes it interesting.”
“Oh, I imagine.” Her eyes glint with mischief. “Especially when a certain firefighter keeps staring at one particular person.”
“What can I say? You’re the best kind of distraction.”
Her breath catches. It’s quiet, but I hear it. Feel it.
Before I can say anything else, her attention flicks over my shoulder. “Ohhh. Look.”
I follow her gaze across the park and land on Cade Murphy and Stella McKinley.
Standing way too close, faces way too soft. He’s looking at her like she’s the only person on earth. I know that look all too well.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Emmy lets out a soft huff of a laugh. “I guess we’re not the only new couple in Mistletoe Bay.”
I angle a look down at her. “We’re a couple now?”
She jolts, eyes widening like the words just slipped out before she could stop them. Then her blush climbs high, blooming across her cheeks.
“I didn’t mean—well, I didn’t not mean it, I just—” She groans, burying her face in her hands. “Ignore me.”
I gently tug her hands down so she has to look at me. “Emmy.”
Her eyes lift, cautious and curious all at once.
“Yeah,” I say, letting my voice drop, letting the truth sit warm between us. “We’re a couple.”
The mood shifts—soft, charged, something that sinks right into my chest and makes itself at home.
She swallows. “Oh.”
“Oh,” I echo, shooting her a wink
Her eyes flick to my mouth—instinctive, quick, but enough to punch all the air out of me.
I lean in. Just enough. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to forget half this town is watching.”
Her lips part, breath frosting the inch of air between us. “Maybe you should forget. Just for a second.”
“Dangerous words, Em.”
I cup her cheek, thumb brushing the warmth there. I’m so damn ready to kiss her right here with the firelight dancing behind us and the whole town buzzing around us.
But I hear a throat clear behind me—the universe reminding me I’m still on shift—and she bites her lip to hold back a grin.
“Later,” I promise, dropping my hand but not stepping away.
Her smile is pure spark. “Later.”