Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ash
The firehouse is already buzzing when I pull into the lot, Holly bouncing in the back seat, Lucy sitting beside her with a travel mug between her hands and a smile she’s trying—and failing—to hide.
It’s the annual Christmas charity breakfast. Pancakes, turnout gear, kids climbing all over engines, and about sixty people in the first hour. Normally I brace for it, mentally prep for the chaos. But today?
Today I feel like I’m carrying a secret under my skin.
A warm, bright, infuriatingly pretty secret wrapped in a red dress from last night and a kiss on a snowy porch that I’ve replayed at least forty times since sunrise.
Lucy.
She’s quiet now, watching the firehouse doors with a soft curiosity in her eyes. Holly is chattering nonstop about Santa, reindeer, and how pancakes “taste better in a firehouse because the walls are magic.”
Lucy laughs, turning in the seat. “Magic walls, huh?”
Holly nods with firm conviction. “Uncle Ash says the walls keep the heat in. So that’s magic.”
I groan. “Not like that, kid.”
But Lucy is giggling, bright and warm and impossible to ignore.
I open her door before she reaches for it, offering my hand without thinking.
She takes it without hesitation, letting me help her out of the truck.
Her hand fits easily in mine, soft but sure, and something low in my stomach pulls tight.
She’s bundled in a cream sweater and scarf, her cheeks pink from the cold. Her hair is curled slightly from sleep, falling around her shoulders in a way that shouldn’t hit as hard as it does.
I want her. I want her more every damn minute.
And as we step toward the firehouse doors, every instinct in me screams to reach for her again—her hand, her waist, anything.
I don’t. Not yet.
The doors open before we touch the handle, and the crew shouts in unison: “ABOUT TIME!”
Lucy freezes.
I stiffen.
Talon stands in front holding a spatula, pointing it directly at me. “We knew it! The mistletoe was a dead giveaway.”
Sienna pops up beside him, flour on her cheeks. “Finally! Somebody managed to un-grumpify Calder.”
“Un-what?” I growl.
“Un-grumpify,” she repeats, patting Lucy’s arm. “Great job, honey.”
Lucy makes a strangled noise, probably wishing the floor would swallow her. Her cheeks burn a deep shade of rose. I step just slightly closer to her, instinct taking over.
“Knock it off,” I snap at the crew.
They don’t. Not even a little.
Talon smirks. “Relax, Calder. We’re happy for you.”
Lucy’s eyes flick up at me, nervous, questioning.
I exhale slowly. To hell with it.
I place my hand on her lower back—low enough to claim, high enough not to scandalize—but when I feel her shiver under my touch, heat flashes through me.
Her blush deepens.
Mine probably does too, but I don’t pull away.
She leans, just enough for me to feel it. That tiny movement sets something inside me alight. And that’s when I see it–the knowing looks. The smirks. The whispered bets exchanging hands. Holly beaming at Lucy like she’s the best Christmas present she’s ever gotten.
Everyone knows.
Everyone.
And it should make me want to run but it doesn’t. It feels like breathing for the first time in months.
The breakfast rush sweeps us inside. I flip pancakes while Lucy pours cocoa and Holly hands out candy canes to other kids. It feels weirdly domestic, like a moment carved out of a life I didn’t let myself imagine until now.
Every time Lucy passes behind me, I feel her. Her warmth. Her scent.
Her presence. Her arm brushes mine once—just once—and my grip on the spatula tightens.
She glances up at me, startled by the intensity I know I’m not hiding well. Her knees wobble a little. And that right there nearly takes me out.
When things finally slow, I catch her by the refreshment table. She’s refilling whipped cream on the cocoa bar, humming under her breath. I take a step toward her. She looks up. Stops humming. Watches me approach with a soft, breathless expression that hits somewhere deep.
“You doing okay?” I ask.
“I—I think so.” She laughs nervously. “They all know.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not bothered?”
“No.” I step closer. “You?”
She swallows. “Not really.”
That tiny admission sends heat through me.
Before she can turn away, Holly grabs her hand. “Miss Lucy, come see the truck—in the back bay! It has lights!”
Lucy shoots me a smile—soft, excited, unbearably sweet—and lets Holly pull her toward the rear apparatus doors.
I follow because I’ll always follow this woman.
The back bay is quiet compared to the main room. The ladder truck is parked there glowing under strings of twinkle lights we hung two nights ago. Snow falls beyond the open doorway, flakes drifting like feathers, the mountain invisible beyond the haze.
Lucy steps closer to the truck, eyes wide. “Oh… wow.”
Holly beams. “It’s magic.”
Lucy touches the cold metal of the bumper, her breath fogging in the air. She turns back toward me. “Did you decorate this?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
She smiles at me, slow and full of something I can’t look away from.
I walk toward her, each step deliberate. I’m not pretending anymore. I’m not hiding anything. When I reach her, I place two fingers under her chin and gently tilt her face up to mine.
Her breath stutters.
“Lucy,” I say quietly.
“Yes?”
“This isn’t a spark anymore.” My thumb brushes her jaw—slow, claiming. “It’s an inferno.”
Her lips part, her eyes darken.
“And I’m keeping it.”
Her breath leaves her in a shocked, soft exhale. “Ash…”
“You don’t scare me,” I say. “You don’t confuse me. You don’t… make me unsure. You just make me want you.”
The tremble in her lower lip just about kills me.
“And if you want out,” I add, “say it now. Say it before I go any further.”
Her eyes fill—not tears, but something brighter, deeper.
“Then don’t let go,” she whispers.
I don’t.
Not ever.
I lean in and kiss her.
The second our lips touch, everything inside me ignites. Her hands slide up my chest, over my shoulders. She rises onto her toes, pressing her body into mine, and I grip her waist, pulling her closer, deeper.
The kiss is slow only for a heartbeat. Then Lucy makes this soft, breathy sound into my mouth, and my restraint fractures. I kiss her harder—hungry, controlled only by the thin edge of wanting her right, wanting her safe, wanting her always.
The snow drifts around us beyond the truck bay. The twinkle lights glow off the chrome. Her fingers in my hair pull a low groan from my chest I can’t contain.
She tastes like cocoa and winter air and every soft thing I thought I’d lost.
“Lucy…” I murmur against her lips.
She shivers. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t. I kiss her again and again—slow, then deep, then desperate—until I’m not sure where she ends and I begin. My hand slides along her spine, guiding her closer until she’s flush against me.
Every part of me is burning for her. We break only when a small tug pulls at my sleeve. Holly stands next to us, blinking up with starry eyes and pure triumph.
“So…” she announces loudly, “does this mean Miss Lucy stays forever now?”
Lucy’s breath catches. Her hands loosen around my shoulders, but she doesn’t step away. I look at Lucy. She looks at me. And something settles in her gaze—peace, certainty, something fierce and bright and so damn right it knocks the wind out of me. She nods. Small. Soft. But solid as bedrock.
“Yes,” she says gently. “If that’s okay with you two.”
Holly shrieks with delight and launches herself at Lucy, hugging her with full, unfiltered kid joy. Lucy hugs her back, laughing breathlessly, cheeks flushed from kissing, eyes glowing with something I can’t look away from.
When Holly releases her, Lucy turns to me.
Her voice lowers. “I meant it.”
My heart feels too full for my chest. I pull her in again—not for a kiss this time, just to hold her. Snow falls behind her. The truck lights gleam. The firehouse hums with warmth and life around us. And Lucy… Lucy feels like home in my arms.
Holly wraps her little arms around both of our legs. “Best Christmas ever,” she declares.
She’s right. But what she doesn’t know—what I know as I bury my face in Lucy’s hair and breathe her in—is that this isn’t just Christmas.
It’s the beginning of everything.
“Let’s go home,” I utter against her ear. “I need to show you how much you mean to me.”
“But Holly–”
“Holly is getting picked up for a sleepover in ten minutes.”
“Oh–” her eyes grow dark and hooded with the promise of more.
Ten minutes later we’re stumbling into my cabin.
“Come here, beautiful.” I slide the chair in my living room back, patting my lap.
A small smile spreads across her lips before she stands and walks toward me.
I force her onto my lap, her hot center rubbing against my straining dick through the denim.
I push my fingers into her hair, tugging as I pull her lips to mine.
I start soft and slow, and her arms curl up to my shoulders, kneading my back, whispering around the nape of my neck.
She moans into my mouth and rocks her pussy into me. I press against her lips with need as my kiss grows hungrier. I devour her, taste her, lick at her mouth, and take her in. I want to own her, be inside her, on top of her, all around her. “You’re so beautiful. So sweet and sexy.”
Her eyes flash with desire as she peers back at me.
“Let’s see how dirty you can be.”
Lucy blushes but stays still.
“I mean it.” I slip my fingers under her leggings and through her damp folds as my teeth edge at her nipples through her shirt. “Don’t make me repeat it.”
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. I yank the shirt over her head. My eyes flick down to her chest, taking in the black lace of her bra, her soft breasts flushed and begging for my lips behind the lace.