“No,” he admits. “Not even a little.”
I exhale, shaking with something I don’t want to name. “Then maybe,” I whisper, “you shouldn’t try.”
He stares at me and the tension stretches tight enough to snap.
Then he steps back—one step, two—like distance is the only thing keeping him sane.
“We fix the float tomorrow,” he says roughly. “If we can stand each other that long.”
“We can,” I shoot back.
“We’ll see.”
He turns, calling over his shoulder, “Crew, get back to work.”
They scatter again. I stand there in the snow, heart hammering, skin flushed, thoughts spinning, staring after him like he’s the fire and I’m the idiot leaning too close.
He doesn’t look back. But I know—Iknow—he felt it too.
Because that wasn’t a float argument.
That was a warning.
A promise.
A spark.
And I’m starting to think the real danger in Devil’s Peak…isn’t fire at all.
It’s him.
And the way he looks at me like we are seconds from burning.
Chapter Five
Ash
The firehouse smells like it always does—coffee, diesel, stale donuts, and the kind of lingering smoke that never quite washes out of turnout gear. It’s familiar. Predictable. Mine.
Holly sits on the steps with her stuffed reindeer tucked under her arm, humming something cheerful while she draws in my old shift notebook. She’s been doing that a lot lately—making the place her own. I don’t stop her. Hell, I like seeing the firehouse through her eyes. Softer. Brighter. She’s only been with me for a month and already having her with me feels like home. I don’t know how long her momma will be deployed, but I know I’ll be sad the day I have to send her home.
“Uncle Ash,” she says, swinging her feet. “Can we make cookies tonight?”
“Maybe,” I answer. “Depends on how work goes.”
She groans dramatically. “Work ALWAYS goes.”
Before I can respond, footsteps echo down the hall. Light. Purposeful. Too familiar. Then a voice—hers.
“Hi! I’m dropping off the donation box for your holiday drive!”
I swear I feel my pulse leap like it’s trying to knock out of my throat.
Lucy Snow walks into the bay holding a crate of books like she’s stepping onto a damn parade float. Scarf wrapped around her neck, hair curled around her shoulders, cheeks pink from the cold. She looks like she was designed in a lab to test my self-control.
Holly gasps, drops her reindeer, and launches toward her. “LUCY!”
Lucy laughs, bending down just in time to catch her. “Hi, sweet girl! I missed you!”
