More laughter from the audience. I noticed several people—mostly women, but a few men, too—watching him with obvious appreciation. A couple near me whispered something about him being “the one who’s always showing up at Timber with random safety inspections,” which only made me more curious. Why did he and Alex seem to have it out for each other?
“And rule number three,” Judd continued, scanning the crowd with mock seriousness. “If anyone tries to convince you that s’mores taste better when you char the marshmallow to a crisp, they’re lying. That’s not rustic or old-school; that’s just bad technique.”
I was so focused on filming his surprisingly engaging safety talk that I didn’t notice the familiar presence behind me until a low voice murmured directly in my ear.
“Don’t fall for the chief. He’ll have you filling out safety inspection paperwork before taking you to bed.”
My skin prickled at Maddox’s proximity, the warmth of his breath against my neck. I turned to find him standing close enough that I could smell his soap and see the amusement dancing in his eyes. He looked relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before—no tension in his shoulders, no guarded expression. Just easy confidence and a hint of a smile that made my stomach flip.
“Jealous, Sullivan?” I whispered back, not bothering to hide my grin.
“Of a guy who’s more likely to have spare fire blankets in his bedside table than toys or lube? Hardly.” But his eyes stayed on me rather than the chief, and something warm unfurled in my chest.
Chief Kincaid wrapped up his talk to enthusiastic applause,and the crowd began dispersing toward the various activity stations. Maddox produced a thermos from his jacket pocket, unscrewing the cap to release the scent of cinnamon and something stronger.
“Spiked cider,” he explained, offering it to me. “Family recipe. Maya suggested you might need a little warming from the inside out.”
Instead of making an inappropriate comment about another way he could warm me from the inside out, I accepted the thermos gratefully, taking a sip of what turned out to be the most perfect combination of apple, spices, and just enough whiskey to do exactly as promised. “Your sister has excellent taste in beverages.”
“She has excellent taste in general,” he replied, settling beside me on one of the log benches positioned near the main fire pit. “Which is why she’s been insufferable about you since day one.”
The casual admission caught me off guard. “Insufferable how?”
“Constantly reminding me that I’m an idiot for not being nicer to you. For…” He gestured vaguely between us, then reached for the bag of marshmallows on the table nearby.
“For?” I asked, accepting a skewer from him.
Maddox hesitated before flashing an unexpected smile. “For not teaching you proper s’mores technique. Watch and learn, city boy. Watch and learn.”
Before I could call him out for avoiding the question, he was already moving toward the fire, positioning his marshmallow at the perfect distance from the flames.
I fumbled for my phone, suddenly needing the familiar comfort of creating content, and walked closer to the fire.
“Okay, everyone,” I said to the camera, finding my professional voice. “Fire safety lesson number one: maintain properdistance between marshmallow and flame. As demonstrated by?—”
“That’s close enough. Try not to set yourself on fire, Hayes,” Maddox called, noting my position. His voice carried a familiar note of fond exasperation.
I zoomed in on his face, catching his concentrated expression as he rotated his marshmallow with practiced precision. “As demonstrated by local s’mores expert and fire-safety know-it-all Maddox Sullivan.”
“Some of us grew up around actual fire,” he replied without looking away from his marshmallow. “Instead of gas fireplaces activated by wall switches.”
“Hey, those wall switches are very complicated. There’s an on position and an off position. Sometimes there’s even a timer.” I moved closer and held my own skewer toward the flames, immediately catching it on fire. “Shit!”
“Language,” Maddox chided, but I could hear him trying not to laugh. “And blow it out gently. Don’t?—”
I waved the flaming marshmallow frantically, trying to extinguish it and only succeeding in creating a sticky, charred mess. The laughter finally escaped him—a rich, genuine sound that made my chest tight with something I didn’t want to examine too closely.
“What the hell is going on over here?” Judd asked, moving swiftly to remove the skewer from my hand and stick it in the empty tin can at his feet to starve it of oxygen. “Did you even listen to a word I said? Are you demonstrating whatnotto do?”
I held back my laughter while trying not to notice Maddox’s eyes dancing in smug satisfaction. “Sorry, Chief. I got carried away.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re putting people at risk because you can’t put your phone down.”
Alex Marian stepped forward, grabbing Judd’s arm and trying to pull him away. “Hey! He was just trying to film content likeyouasked him to. Take it easy on the guy. It’s not his fault you’re impossible to please.”
The chief’s eyes snapped to Alex’s and narrowed, causing a fuck-ton more sparks than my flaming marshmallow ever had. “Not sure you’re the one who should be giving safety advice, Firebug,” he growled.
Maddox met my eye and tilted his head over to the side. The two of us slowly backed away to another spot around the fire before either of the other men noticed we’d left.
