It takes half a second for my brain to catch up, then I nearly double over in a fit of laughter. “Oh shit,’ I wipe the tears from laughing so hard, off my face. “I’m sorry, Em. I guess we both forgot that you don’t have your car.”
She steps back into the living room and shakes her head. “I think it’s safe to say, you scrambled my brain.”
I can’t help myself, I pull her to me and give her a kiss, and a pat on the ass for good measure. “Same, babe. Same. Let me throw on some clothes. I’ll drive you home.”
I don’t get much sleep after I take Emmy home, even though I’m exhausted. But it’s not because I’m restless.
No. It’s all because my bed still smells like her, and my mind won’t shut up—replaying everything that happened between us—her laugh in my kitchen, her breath against my neck, the way she whispered my name right before she fell apart in my arms.
By the time my alarm goes off the next morning, I’m already awake, staring at the ceiling like a fool in love.
The firehouse is quiet when I walk in, just the hum of early-shift chatter and the smell of burnt coffee someone forgot on the warmer. I shrug out of my coat, clock in, and try—try—toact normal while my brain keeps drifting back to Emmy in my sheets.
Wyatt takes one look at me and snorts. “You look like you slept, what—two hours? Busy night?”
If he only knew.
I keep my voice casual. “Something like that.”
He wiggles his eyebrows. I flip him off. He laughs and walks away.
I’m checking gear in the bay when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Pour Some Sugar on Me, the ringtone I set for Emmy years ago, begins to play.
I wipe my hands on my pants and answer as my stomach flip-flops like I’m some love-sick puppy.
“Hey, you,” I say, unable to hide the smile in my voice.
There’s a burst of breathless excitement on the other end.
“Hayes! We passed!” Emmy practically squeals. “Dockside passed inspection! He said everything looked perfect—better than perfect—and we can reopen starting tomorrow morning.”
My chest goes warm, satisfaction humming through me. “That’s great, sweetheart. I told you you’d be back in business.”
“No,” she says quickly, “don’tplay it down like that. Hayes, he was really impressed with the work you did. The electrical. The cleaning. The shelves. Everything.” Her voice softens. “You made it look beautiful. And, you painted my kitchen! That shade of turquoise? The exact color I wanted but couldn’t justify spending money on yet? How did you even know?”
I smile and lean against the truck, letting her voice wash over me. “I pay attention.”
She goes quiet for a second and I wish I was there to see her face right now. To kiss her senseless and remind her just how much I care about her.
“I love it,” she finally says, breathless again. “I love everything you did. I love—” She stops herself, but there’s a hint of something more. Her hesitation is full of meaning. “I just wanted you to know how much it meant. I feel like I got my happy place back.”
I swallow my throat tight with emotion.
Give me burning buildings, overturned cars. Ice rescues? They’re easy.
This?
Her giving me credit, her letting me inside that guarded heart of hers?
That’s the dangerous stuff.
“Em?” I say softly.
“Yeah?”
“I’d fix that kitchen a thousand times if it meant you being this happy.”
