The guys swarm it like wolves. I stay back, arms crossed, watching her. Which is a mistake. Because Lucy Snow in my firehouse looks… right. Too right.
She shakes snow from her hair, laughing when it lands on her eyelashes.
She talks to the guys like she’s known them forever—easy, warm, full of sunshine I’m not allowed to touch.
And every single one of my firefighters loves her already.
Holly loves her even more.
Which is exactly why I need to keep my distance.
Lucy turns and catches me staring.Of course.
She tilts her head. “Why are you hanging back like I’m contagious?”
“Because you are.”
She walks toward me slowly. Too slowly. “Oh? What disease do I have?”
“Chaos.”
She snorts. “Not a disease.”
“It is for me.”
Her eyes warm. “You mean you don’t like a little fun?”
“Not your version of it.”
She steps closer—close enough that I smell vanilla and cold air and something sweet that has no business being this intoxicating.
“Really?” she murmurs. “Because you didn’t seem to mind the snow machine accident.”
I lean in. “You blasted me in the face.”
“And you smiled.”
I grit my teeth. “Never happened.”
“It did.” Her voice is soft, teasing. “You smiled because of me.”
She shouldn’t say things like that. She shouldn’t think them. She damn sure shouldn’t look at me the way she’s looking at me. Like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. I drop my gaze to her lips. Just for a second. Just enough to make her breath catch.
“Lucy,” I say quietly, “you need to stop pushing.”
“I wasn’t pushing.”
“You were.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She stands even closer now—breasts inches from my chest, chin tipped up in challenge.
“You’re scowling again,” she whispers.
“Occupational hazard.”
