“It’s literally just vapor, Ash.”
“Vapor can set off alarms.”
“So can burnt toast,” she counters. “But we don’t ban breakfast.”
A ripple of laughter breaks across the room.
I clench my jaw.
Lucy lifts her chin, eyes sparkling like she’s enjoying this way too much. “Anyway, the float will be adorable.”
“Adorable doesn’t mean safe.”
“Safe doesn’t mean boring,” she fires back.
“Better boring than on fire.”
She places the sketch against her chest dramatically. “Why do you hate joy?”
“I don’t hate joy. I hate unnecessary risks.”
“Joy isn’t a risk,” she insists.
“With you?” I say before I can stop myself. “Feels like one.”
The room goessilent.Lucy freezes. Her cheeks flush a soft pink. Something flickers in her eyes—surprise, heat, something that slams low in my gut.
Damn it.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. I shouldn’t be looking at her like that.
But she keeps pushing.
“Are you calling me dangerous, Lieutenant Calder?”
Her voice runs down my spine like warm honey—slow, smooth, sweet, and absolutely lethal.
I sit forward in my chair. “I’m calling you impulsive. Messy. Distracting.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Distracting?”
Shit.
“Not what I—” I scrub a hand over my jaw. “Just go on.”
She eyes me for several long, quiet seconds. Then—slowly—she turns back to the room.
But she knows exactly what I meant. And she’s glowing with it.
“Next,” she says, “the tree lighting.”
I brace myself.
“We’re going bigger this year,” she continues. “More lights. More garland. More sparkle.”
“No,” I say immediately.
“Yes,” she counters.
