Heat shoots straight down my spine. I turn quickly so he won’t see the way my face flames hotter than the cocoa I incinerated.
“Goodnight, Ash,” I mutter.
“Goodnight, Sparky,” he calls back, maddeningly satisfied.
I shut the door behind me and lean on it, breath catching, heart racing, pulse drumming in my throat.
Day one in Devil’s Peak and I’ve already met the man who is absolutely going to ruin my peace. My grumpy, irritating, stupidly attractive firefighter neighbor. And apparently… my new nickname is Sparky.
God help me.
Chapter Two
Ash
The conference room inside Devil’s Peak Community Hall smells like burnt coffee, pine cleaner, and trouble.
Not the actual emergency kind—though I’d prefer that. No. This is the kind of trouble that shows up wearing a red scarf, smelling like vanilla sugar, and carrying a binder covered in glittery snowflakes.
Lucy Snow.
She’s at the front of the room now, smiling like she’s about to fix world peace with construction paper. I take the empty chair at the back, fold my arms across my chest, and remind myself that I’m here for one reason only: To keep these lunatics from burning the town down with their holiday decorations.
“Thank you so much for coming!” Lucy chirps, flipping open her binder. “I’m thrilled to help with this year’s Fire & Frost Festival. We’ll start with the parade, then tree lighting, then the charity gala?—”
“Hold up.” I don’t raise my voice, but it cuts through her sunshine like a blade.
She looks at me. The whole room looks at me. Great.
I clear my throat. “Before we get into… all that, we need to address safety considerations. Last year’s float nearly burst into flames because someone plugged a six-foot inflatable Santa into a faulty multi-outlet generator.”
Lucy blinks. “Safety considerations are important, of course, but maybe we could get through the overview first?”
“We can,” I say. “As long as everyone understands power limits, flame retardant requirements, and how many watts your decorations can handle without blowing out half the block.”
A few committee members groan. Someone mutters “Here we go again.”
Lucy just… smiles. Like I’m a puzzle she’s dying to solve.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Calder,” she says sweetly. “We’ll absolutely rely on your… expertise.”
I narrow my eyes. “You trying to say something?”
Her smile widens. “Not at all. Your expertise is very… thorough.”
The room snickers. Great. Perfect. A whole damn audience.
She flips a page in her binder, clears her throat, and launches into her plan.
It’s a disaster already.
“First,” she says, holding up a sketch, “the parade float. I’m envisioning a cozy gingerbread village theme with working lights, faux smoke curling from the chimneys, and children dressed like gumdrops?—”
“No smoke.”
She pauses. “It’s faux smoke. Completely safe.”
“Nothing about that is completely safe.”
