He sucked in a breath through his nose and held it for a second, then marched over and squatted next to me. The heat from his body was immediate, his shoulder pressing against mine as he reached for the kindling. “Can’t believe you don’t know how to start a fire.”
“I start fires all the time,” I shot back. “I just do it on social media when I share shirtless vacation pics.”
Maddox muttered under his breath and reached for some small sticks from a nearby copper bin. “It wasn’t set right to begin with. Pay attention because I’m only showing you this once.”
I rolled my eyes.
Maddox’s gaze met mine with his usual intensity. “The first lesson in mountain survival is learning how to make a fire.”
“Simmer down, big guy. This place has a furnace,” I said, sitting back on my heels. But I didn’t move away, staying close enough that our knees touched.
“And if the furnace goes out?”
“I feel confident the heat from your judgment would keep us both warm for a very long time.”
Maddox flexed his jaw to hide a smile. “Watch and learn, city boy. First, newspaper or fire starter. Then small sticks, arranged like this?—”
“Ahh, the teepee method,” I said, leaning closer to watch what he was doing. My shoulder pressed more firmly against his, and neither of us shifted away. “I recall something about this from a YouTube short on survival skills.”
“Lord help us if people are learning survival skills from clickbait shorts,” he muttered. His breath was warm against my cheek as he arranged the kindling.
“As opposed to learning it from lecturing assholes? I could make an argument that?—”
He cut me off. “Larger pieces on top, leaving space for air flow. Fire needs oxygen to—what are you doing?”
I looked up from where I’d pretended to take notes on my hand with an invisible pen. “Making a title note for my Instagram story. ‘Mansplaining Fire: A Tutorial.’ It’s bound to be a hit with the ladies.”
“Fuck off,” Maddox muttered, elbowing me away from him. I teetered before falling on my ass.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, seriously. Tell me more, Fire Whisperer.”
“Humanity would be better off if you froze to death.” But his voice lacked any real heat, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.
“I bet you a billion dollars that a clip of you making this fire will have at least a hundred women fanning themselves in the comments. No, make that a thousand women. Men, too, come to think of it.” Although the idea of my male followers wanting Maddox made me feel a little gut twist.
“I’ll take your billion-dollar bet,” he said, grinning. “The commenters will be too busy roasting you for not knowing shit about fire building.”
I shrugged. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a billion dollars. But I’ll bet you another date.”
Maddox rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll post that clip right now, and if it gets a thousand comments aboutmeinstead of your ineptitude, I’ll…”
“Ice-skate with me tomorrow?”
“Can’t skate. How about a holiday-themed date of my choosing?” he suggested.
I studied Maddox’s face to see if he was playing me. “Your choice will be something stupid like snow shoveling.”
His laughter was unexpected. “I actually have date game, Hayes. Admittedly rusty, but it exists.”
“Prove it,” I teased, enjoying both the warmth of the growing fire and the heat of our banter.
“What if I promise it’ll be romantic? The kind of holidate your fans will lose their minds over.”
I couldn’t resist teasing him some more. “Deep down, you already know you’re gonna lose. You saidit’llbe, not itwouldbe,” I said smugly.
“I’m not gonna lose. I’m just saying if I did, I’d make it the most romantic date you’ve ever been on. How about that?”
My heart leapt like the jumping flames in the fireplace next to me. For a moment, I let myself imagine it—Maddox Sullivan planning something special just for me. “Deal,” I croaked.
