Spark (Devil’s Peak Fire & Rescue #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Lucy

Snowflakes hit my face the moment I step out of my tiny hatchback, the kind that melt instantly and run down your skin like cold fingertips. My breath fogs the air as I tug the last box out of the backseat—one labeled CHRISTMAS CRAP in pink glitter marker, because yes, I am absolutely that person.

A new town. A new job. A new chance to not screw things up.

The rental cabin sits halfway up a pine-lined ridge. It’s small, a little crooked, a little drafty, but adorable—like something from a low-budget holiday movie. If I squint, I can almost see a wood-burning stove glowing inside, cookies baking, and a happily-ever-after waiting around the corner.

“Hi!”

The voice snaps my fantasy in half. A little girl stands at the bottom of my porch steps, wearing purple boots and a jacket two sizes too big. Blonde curls peek from beneath a knit hat with a sparkly pom-pom.

She grins so wide I swear I can feel the warmth from here.

“I’m Holly,” she announces.

“Well, hello, Holly.” I tuck the box under one arm. “I’m Lucy. I’m the new librarian.”

Her eyes widen like I just told her I’m Santa Claus. “You’re the book lady!”

I laugh. “I’ll take that.”

She’s already climbing my steps, inspecting every inch of the porch with the intensity of a building inspector. “Are you gonna live here?”

“Yep. This little cabin is mine for the next twelve months.”

“It’s cute,” she decides. “Like a gingerbread house!”

I glow. Someone gets it. “Exactly what I thought.”

A new voice cuts through the snow, low and sharp-edged.

“It’s a potential death trap.”

The hair on my arms stands straight up.

I turn.

And see him.

Good Lord.

A man—huge, hard, broad-shouldered, built like he eats lumber for breakfast—walks up the path with a duffel bag slung over his back.

Dark beanie, navy coat, heavy boots crunching through snow.

His jaw looks carved, dusted with stubble.

His eyes, from this distance, look like storm clouds sizing me up.

This is not a holiday movie hero. This is the man who shows up before the heroine learns about consequences.

Holly beams. “Uncle Ash!”

He nods at her but doesn’t smile. He stops at the bottom of my steps, looking me up and down in one slow sweep that makes my skin prickle.

“You the new tenant?”

Wow. Friendly.

“Yes,” I say. “Lucy.”

He jerks his chin once. “Ash. Cabin next door.”

He doesn’t offer a hand. Doesn’t offer a smile. Doesn’t even offer the bare minimum of human warmth.

“My sister wanted me to check on you,” he continues. “Said someone was moving in today. You should know—watch the chimney. It’s old. Could spark.”

I blink. “Nice to meet you too?”

He doesn’t blink back. “Not trying to be nice. Trying to keep you from burning the place down.”

Holly tugs his sleeve. “Uncle Ash, she likes books!”

He exhales like that information is somehow deeply inconvenient. “Great.”

I straighten, narrowing my eyes. “For the record, I happen to think this cabin is adorable. Cozy. Charming.”

“It’s a fire hazard,” he says flatly.

“Maybe you’re a fire hazard,” I shoot back before my brain can catch up with my mouth.

Holly covers her mouth in a gasp.

Ash’s brows lift—just slightly. “Excuse me?”

I hug my box to my chest. “I said what I said.”

His mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile—or a snarl. Hard to tell with this man. “You’re already planning to put up lights.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

He points to the glitter marker label on the box in my arms.

I look down.

CHRISTMAS CRAP.

…Fair.

“Yes,” I say, lifting my chin. “I enjoy a little festive sparkle.”

He makes a low sound in his throat that might be a laugh if it weren’t so full of disbelief. “Festive sparkle. Right. Well, Sparky—”

“Sparky?”

“You’re going to spark something with those decorations. Probably a fire.”

“I am not sparking anything!”

“Yet.”

I glare. “Is this how you greet all your neighbors? Accusing them of impending arson?”

“Only the ones who show up with seventeen boxes of electrical hazards.”

“It’s fifteen.”

“Comforting.”

Holly giggles from behind him. Traitor.

Ash shifts the duffel on his shoulder and moves up another step. He’s close enough now that I realize just how big he is. Broad chest, thick arms, the kind of shoulders that look designed for carrying heavy things… or picking people up and pinning them against—

Nope. No. Absolutely not going down that thought path.

He jerks his chin toward my porch. “You should get inside. Weather’s dropping.”

“Right. I will. As soon as the grumpy welcome committee clears my steps.”

He stares at me. I stare back. For a moment, the air between us hums. Something sharp. Bright. Electric.

Then he breaks it. “Suit yourself, Sparky.” He turns to Holly. “Come on, kiddo. We gotta get dinner started.”

Holly leans toward me. “He cooks pasta like a monster. Don’t trust him.”

Ash groans. “Holly.”

She giggles and follows him down the path.

Ash glances back once—just once—eyes flicking over me again like he’s memorizing something he has no business memorizing.

Then he disappears into the trees.

Over the next few hours, I manage to get three boxes into the cabin before I hear the crunch of boots behind me again. I whirl around, ready to defend my “festive sparkle” with the full force of my stubbornness.

Ash stands there, holding a small cardboard box.

“You dropped this out by your car,” he says, handing it over.

“Oh. Thanks.”

He doesn’t move. Just stands there in the cold, watching me like he’s trying to figure me out.

“You moving out here alone?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“No boyfriend coming?”

“No boyfriend.” Not after the last disaster. Not after— Stop.

His gaze flicks over my face, sharp. “Good.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs one thick shoulder. “Less chance of someone else messing with my emergency calls.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means if your lights blow a fuse—and they will—I’m the one who gets dragged out at midnight.”

I stare at him. “You assume a lot.”

“I’m a firefighter,” he says. “It’s my job to assume the worst.”

I fold my arms. “Well, it’s my job to be optimistic.”

His lips twitch again. “That right?”

“Yes. I’m restoring the library. Bringing back story hours and book clubs. Community events.”

“More fire hazards.”

I step closer. “You’re very obsessed with fires.”

He steps closer too. “And you’re very obsessed with pretending nothing ever goes wrong.”

My breath quickens. “Maybe I like believing the world can be good.”

“Maybe I like preparing for when it’s not.”

We’re inches apart now.

Too close. Way too close.

Holly’s voice breaks the tension as she runs up from nowhere, a blur of purple boots.

“Uncle Ash! You forgot my mittens!”

Ash curses under his breath and steps back. I feel his warmth disappear like someone ripped away a blanket. He grabs the mittens from her and mumbles, “Thanks, kid.”

Holly looks up at me. “Are you coming to the parade? They have candy canes.”

“I’ll be there,” I say.

She beams and runs back toward their cabin.

Ash lingers.

“Don’t overload the outlets,” he says.

“I’m not an idiot.”

He gives me a slow once-over. “I’ll let you know when my opinion changes.”

My jaw drops. “You—”

He walks away before I can finish, boots crunching, shoulders broad and unbothered.

I shout after him: “For the record, I’m perfectly capable of handling a few string lights!”

His voice carries back through the trees:

“Sure you are, Sparky. Sure you are.”

By nightfall, I’ve hung exactly three strands of lights and burned hot chocolate to the bottom of a pot. I step onto the porch to cool off—and nearly jump when I see Ash standing in his own yard, staring at my lights like they’ve personally offended him.

He crosses his arms, lifting one brow. “They’re crooked.”

“They’re festive.”

“They’re a fire risk.”

“They’re LED!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I point a finger at him. “You are impossible.”

He smirks—actually smirks—like he’s been waiting for that.

“And you,” he says, voice low, “are my sparkly pain in the ass.”

Heat shoots straight down my spine. I turn quickly so he won’t see the way my face flames hotter than the cocoa I incinerated.

“Goodnight, Ash,” I mutter.

“Goodnight, Sparky,” he calls back, maddeningly satisfied.

I shut the door behind me and lean on it, breath catching, heart racing, pulse drumming in my throat.

Day one in Devil’s Peak and I’ve already met the man who is absolutely going to ruin my peace. My grumpy, irritating, stupidly attractive firefighter neighbor. And apparently… my new nickname is Sparky.

God help me.