Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Lucy
Devil’s Peak has a unique ability to turn any event into a festival.
Tonight is the annual Community Snow Play Night hosted behind the firehouse—a kid-friendly excuse for hot chocolate, music, and supervised mayhem. Families are drinking cider. Volunteers are building snowmen. Holly is running in little boot prints shaped like chaos.
And then there’s me.
Shuffling toward the field trying to pretend I am not specifically scanning the crowd for one very grumpy, very broad-shouldered firefighter.
I totally am.
I spot him near the fire pits—Ash Calder in a black thermal shirt that hugs every unfair, sculpted line of him. He’s helping a group of kids build a mini snow fort, brow furrowed in concentration like he’s constructing a military-grade bunker instead of a play structure.
God help me, he’s adorable with kids.
The second he sees me, his shoulders stiffen, then his gaze sweeps over me like he’s checking for hazards.
Or maybe just losing his mind.
He mutters something to Talon, who smirks like an idiot.
Just another evening in my “definitely not crushing on Ash Calder” era.
I adjust my scarf and make my way through the snow when Holly spots me first.
“LUCY!” she shrieks, launching herself at me like a tiny, cinnamon-scented missile.
I catch her, spinning her once. “Hi, troublemaker. Having fun?”
“The most fun! Uncle Ash said I could throw one snowball as long as I didn’t aim at people’s faces.”
She grins mischievously.
“And did you follow that rule?” I ask.
“Nope!” she chirps.
Ash materializes behind her like a summoned demon. “She didn’t. She’s on probation.”
“Uncle Ash,” Holly says gravely, “probation means nothing at Christmas.”
I bite my lip to hide a laugh.
Ash looks at me like he’s begging for mercy. “Don’t encourage her.”
“I would never.”
“You always do.”
I shrug. “She’s cute.”
“She’s dangerous.”
“I wonder where she gets that.”
Talon snorts loudly. Ash shoots him a murderous look before turning back to me, jaw tight, voice low. “Why are you here, Lucy?”
“What? I’m volunteering. Like last time.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
Heat slides down my spine. God, he’s impossible. And impossible looks really good on him under moonlight with snow melting on his eyelashes.
Before I can respond, Holly tugs on my coat. “Lucy! Come play with us! We’re doing a snowball relay. You need to be on my team!”
I beam. “Absolutely.”
Ash mutters, “This is a terrible idea.”
“It’s festive,” I counter.
“It’s hazardous.”
“Live a little.”
He gives me an expression that could melt a glacier. “Lucy. You’re wearing suede boots.”
“They’re weather-treated!”
“They’re a lawsuit.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I’m realistic.”
I smile sweetly. “Come on, Captain Safety. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Ash’s eyes narrow, and for one long beat, heat pulses between us—thick, humming, unavoidable. I can’t breathe. He can’t either.
Then Holly throws two snowballs at once. One hits Ash in the thigh. The other hits me square in the hip.
“READY, SET, GO!” she yells.
The kids break into a chaotic sprint. Adults cheer. And Ash glares at me like this is my fault.
“Congratulations,” he mutters. “You’re in charge of her next sugar crash.”
“Oh no,” I tease, “this is all you.”
“Lucy…”
“Yes?”
“I swear, if you throw a snowball at me—”
I throw a snowball at him. Right. In. The. Face. Time freezes. The world goes silent. Ash doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. Just slowly wipes snow from his eyes. An entire row of firefighters collectively gasps.
Talon whispers, “She’s dead.”
Ash lowers his hand. His jaw flexes once. Twice. Three deliberate times.
“Lucy Snow,” he says very quietly, “I hope you made peace with God.”
I laugh—too loud, too nervous—and start backing away.
He stalks toward me. “Oh no no no—Ash—stop—stop—don’t—”
“Run,” he growls.
I do. I sprint across the field, squealing, slipping, nearly face-planting into a snowman. Kids cheer. Adults cheer harder. Ash gains on me instantly—he’s twice my size and built like a wolf raised on cardio.
“Ash!” I shriek when he grabs the back of my coat. “No! Let go!”
“Not a chance.”
“No! Stop it!”
“You hit me in the face.”
“It was an accident!”
“You aimed.”
“Not well!”
He hauls me backward with one tug and I skid across the snow, laughing and yelling and absolutely losing my mind. Snow flies. I twist free for half a second— And then my foot hits a buried patch of ice. I slip. He lunges. And we crash—into a snowbank.
I land flat on my back, breath knocked out, the cold soaking through my coat.
Ash lands above me. Braced on his forearms. Chest heaving. Face inches from mine. And suddenly everything is silent again. My heart thrashes. His breath warms my cheek. His thigh pins mine into the snow.
“Ash,” I whisper.
Mist curls from his lips in shallow bursts. “Lucy.”
“You tackled me.”
“You deserved it.”
“That was excessive force.”
“Snowball to the face,” he reminds me, voice low. “That’s assault.”
“How do you know it was me? Could’ve been Holly.”
He stares down at me—dark eyes blazing, pupils wide.
“Lucy,” he murmurs, “I’d know your aim anywhere.”
Heat blasts down my spine, sharp and shocking. He shifts an inch—barely—but it drags his thigh against mine, and I bite down a gasp.
His eyes flick to my mouth. Slow. Deliberate. Hungry.
Everything stops.
He’s going to kiss me.
I know it. He knows it. The snow knows it.
His breath dips lower, touching my lips. My fingers curl into the front of his jacket.
His forehead brushes mine. He leans in—
“YOU GOTTA KISS AND MAKE UP!”
We both flinch. Ash jerks his head up so fast he nearly whiplashes himself.
Holly stands a few feet away with her hands on her hips and zero shame. “That’s the rule! If you fight in the snow, you gotta kiss to fix it!”
The entire firehouse erupts in laughter. Ash looks at her like he’s questioning every decision that led him to this moment.
“Holly,” he says, voice strangled, “that’s not a rule.”
“It is,” she insists. “Mommy said so and she’s a grown-up.”
“There is no universe—none—where I kiss someone to satisfy a six-year-old’s—”
Holly gasps. “You want to kiss her!”
Ash freezes. My entire body blushes.
Talon yells, “Pay up! I told you she’d be the one who made him crack!”
Ash rolls off me so fast he falls backward into the snow. “I’m done. I’m so done.”
I sit up, shaking snow from my hair. “Holly, sweetie—maybe let’s give your uncle a second to… reboot.”
Ash shoots me a glare that’s half fury, half mortification, and half something too hot to survive.
“That was not,” he growls, “a near kiss.”
I raise a brow. “Wasn’t it?”
His voice drops dangerously. “Don’t push me.”
“You tackled me into a snowbank, Ash. I think pushing already happened.”
He runs a hand through his hair—wet now, tousled, unbelievably sexy. Do not stare, Lucy. Do not stare. Too late.
“Ash,” I whisper, stepping closer. “Hey. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s—Lucy—” He swallows. Hard. “I need to… I need a minute.”
“Ash—”
But he’s already standing, brushing snow off his clothes like he’s trying to scrub the moment off his body.
Talon calls, “You sure you don’t want to kiss and make up?”
Ash flips him off. Lucy Snow: bad influence extraordinaire.
Holly runs to hug my leg. “That was so fun!”
I laugh shakily. “Yeah, kiddo. Fun.”
But my heartbeat still hasn’t settled. My lips still feel warm. My body still remembers every inch of him above me.
Ash strides past without looking at me. “I’m going inside.”
“Ash—”
He doesn’t stop. Just tosses over his shoulder, raw and quiet: “Lucy, don’t follow me.”
Which is exactly why I take one step after him—before Holly drags me toward the cocoa stand. I turn back once. Through the glass door of the firehouse, I see him—shoulders braced against the wall, head tipped back, chest rising like he’s trying to breathe normally.
Because of me.
And suddenly I know:
This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.
For both of us.