Chapter 9
nine
. . .
Emmy
The bonfire glow still clings to my skin by the time I slide into my car.
My hair smells like smoke and winter, my lips are tingling from every stolen kiss Hayes managed to sneak while pretending to “check the perimeter,” and I’m pretty sure half the town suspects something is going on between us now.
I don’t even care.
I stayed until the last ember had burned and shamelessly watched as my firefighter and his team made sure not a single spark remained. But the night still wasn’t long enough.
Not enough time with Hayes.
Not even close.
My phone is in my hand before I’ve even buckled my seatbelt.
Emmy: Any chance that I can come by?
I stare at the message for a heartbeat, nerves fluttering, pulse tapping against my throat. It’s bold. It’s very unlike me. Or maybe it is me—just the version that only comes out around him.
The three dots appear instantly.
Hayes: I’ll wait for you out front. Hurry. But drive safe!
I swallow, heat curling low in my stomach.
Emmy: On my way.
I toss my phone into the console, shove the car into drive, and try not to smile like an absolute maniac the entire ten-minute ride.
The firehouse looks quiet from the outside, only a few windows glowing as the engine backs into the truck bay next to the ladder truck and ambulance. I wait, hiding in the shadows just far enough down the street to watch.
Everyone climbs out and heads in separate directions. Hayes looks around. Says something to Wyatt, shakes his head with a smile then walks out and leans against the brick building.
A gust of cold air greets me when I open the door and step out.
Hayes is by my side in an instant, hands finding my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I missed you.”
“You saw me less than an hour ago,” I tease even though I feel exactly the same way.
“That’s an hour too long.”
I laugh, but it catches in my throat when he dips his head and kisses me—slow, deep, full of all the words we haven’t said out loud yet. The kind of kiss that steals the world right out from under my feet.
“Any chance there’s some place private we can hide?” I whisper against his mouth.
His answering smile is pure sin.
“C’mon, Em.” He laces our fingers and tugs me in through the side door toward the back hallway. “You think I don’t know every empty corner in this place?”
“Oh.” My heart sinks. “You do this sort of thing often?”
“Fuck no, Em. Sometimes a guy just needs a little space. You’ve met Wyatt. Twenty-four hours in close quarters with him and the other guys? Trust me, you find a place to hide.”
“Good answer.” And minor freak out averted.
Hayes opens a door at the end of the hall and ushers me inside the laundry room.
The dryer’s running so it’s nice and warm. So are his hands.
I feel his breath against my ear, hear the low rasp of my name, and everything inside me tilts, melts, wants.
Hayes locks the door behind us.
“Quick and the other ‘q’ word we never say on duty. Can you handle that?” he asks.
“Absolutely,” I rasp before pressing my lips to his.
“Shit, Em.” He fumbles with my scarf and my coat. “Too many damn clothes.”
There’s no time for both of us to get completely naked, we both know that.
But I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t want me to overheat beneath the wool scarf and winter jacket.
“There,” I shrug out of the heavy fabric and toss it on the dryer.
“Turn around.” Hayes bends me over the washer, the cool metal a stark contrast on my flushed skin.
He pulls my pants down to my thighs. I hear the jingle of his belt opening and the tiny hiss of his zipper before he plunges inside of me.
“Play with yourself, Em. I wanna feel you come on my cock before I blow my load,” he says in a hushed tone against the shell of my ear.
My hand slips between my thighs, rubbing my clit.
Hayes’s hand covers my mouth to muffle the moans of pleasure that escape as he bottoms out inside me.
“Fuck. Right there, Em.”
It’s hard. Fast. And just as equally hypnotizing as before.
Hayes bites the back of my shoulder, drowning out his own roar when he explodes, taking me right along with him.
We both take a beat to right our clothes, a knowing smirk etched on both our faces and Hayes cum dripping out of me.
He runs a finger through my tangled hair and kisses the tip of my nose. “I’ll check to see if the coast is clear. Then I can at least pretend I was giving you a tour and we can poke our heads into the common area and say ‘hi’ to the guys.”
“I should go. Not because I don’t want to stay. I do. I’ve just got a big day tomorrow.”
He groans and pretends he’s offended. “I already hate sharing you with the bakery.”
“And yet you were elbow-deep in cookie dough with me twenty-four hours ago.”
“That was different,” he mutters. “I got to kiss you whenever I wanted.”
“You still can.”
“Good. Because I plan on doing that every chance I get.”
My heart does a ridiculous somersault and he kisses me one more time before unlocking the door and poking his head out. “Coast is clear.”
I step out. Coat zippered, scarf wrapped around my neck, and cheeks still flushed.
Hayes follows me back to the same door he let me in.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Count on it,” he promises.
I unlock my car door, climb in, and take one last breath of cold December air before shutting the door.
“I am in so much trouble,” I whisper to no one but my own foolishly happy heart.
Soft light filters through my curtains the next morning. The first hints of another winter storm gently tapping against the windows in delicate spirals. I’m warm under my blankets, sore in the best way, and smiling like someone who has no intention of hiding her happiness.
Which is dangerous, because I live with Mom and Evie
Mom can sniff out a secret before the coffee finishes brewing. And Evie has been as relentless as ever now that she thinks she knows that something is up with me and Hayes.
I roll out of bed, tug on a pair of leggings and my favorite, well-worn Dockside t-shirt, then tiptoe down the hall, hoping—praying—my sister is still asleep.
No such luck.
She’s perched on a barstool at the kitchen island with her mug raised like a judge ready to rule on my fate. “Well, well, well,” she drawls, eyes glittering with mischief. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“I came home before midnight,” I defend, weakly.
She snorts. “Honey, you came home after midnight. And you were glowing. Radiating. Positively luminescent. If Hallmark tested you, you’d be ninety-nine percent made-for-TV romance right now. No. Scratch that. You’d probably be more like a Lifetime movie or Skin A Max.”
My cheeks burn. “Evie—”
She clutches her chest dramatically. “Oh my God. He rearranged your spine, didn’t he?”
I nearly choke. “Evie!”
Mom walks in just in time to hear that and promptly turns the color of a ripe tomato. “Evie Lynn!”
My sister just grins around her coffee mug. “What? She’s a grown woman. And clearly a very satisfied one.”
“That does not mean I want to hear about it!” Mom replies.
“Nor does it mean that I’m going to confirm or deny any of it,” I add.
“Wait. I take that back. I need to know one thing. It’s Hayes, isn’t it?” Mom asks, filling her own cup of coffee while watching me very carefully.
“Oh, it is 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Hayes,” Evie jumps off her stool and walks toward me. “Em and Hayes. Sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g.”
Mom laughs at my little sister. “Evie. Knocking it off.” Then she turns to me. “Honey, I just want you to know, no matter what, I’m happy for you. Hayes is a good man. And this thing between the two of you has been a very long time coming.”
“Annnnnd, I’m leaving.” I grab a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter and head for the door before I combust into festive, mortified flames.
But Evie is quicker. She blocks my escape and puts her hands on my shoulders. “I’m happy for you, too. Really. I haven’t seen you this…you in a long time.”
Emotions swell in my throat and if I’m not careful I know I’ll burst into tears. “It feels good,” I whisper. “Hayes feels good.”
“I bet he does—ow!” She yelps as Mom flicks the back of her head.
I laugh and shove my feet into my boots.
Evie leans against the doorframe, a smirk teasing her mouth. “You should text Loverboy and tell him to bring that cute butt by after his shift.”
I snort. “Please, you already know he’ll be there. Maybe you should text Gideon.”
Her cheeks flush. The thrill of a moment of victory excites me.
Mom’s brows go up. “Evie. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
Evie glares at me. I stick out my tongue.
“Turnabout is fair play, baby sis.” I wiggle my fingers in a wave. “See you at the cafe.”
The drive to Dockside Cafe feels different today. It’s hard to explain.
The roads are dusted with frost, the sky thick with clouds that promise more. The whole town has that pre-storm hush—the kind that makes you breathe slower, talk softer, look closer.
I park in my usual spot behind the cafe and step out of my car. With a deep breath, I unlock the door and step into the kitchen.
The diffuser and air purifier that Hayes set up in the kitchen during his little remodel have the whole place smelling just like a bakery should. Any traces of charred walls, burnt wires and fresh paint have been replaced by warm vanilla and peppermint.
With a full heart, I make my way through the swinging door that separates the kitchen from the cafe area and go through the motions of turning on all the lights and bringing the place to life.
I pull out a fresh, sealed bag of Dockside’s house-blend coffee grounds—our blend, the one Dad perfected years ago.
The packaging crinkles under my fingertips, cool and smooth, the printed boatdock logo bright against the brown bag.
Tearing the top open, I inhale its rich, warm, scent.
A little nutty with that hint of caramel sweetness we’re known for.