I start to reach up to wipe it away, but he's faster. He leans in, and instead of using his thumb like a normal person, he uses his tongue—a slow, deliberate lick across my lower lip that makes my breath catch in my throat.
Oh.
And then he's kissing me properly, his hand coming up to cup my jaw as his mouth slants over mine. He tastes like chocolate and strawberries and something uniquely Elias—woodsmoke and pine needles and the warmth of campfire that I'm beginning to associate exclusively with him. The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against mine, and I hear myself moan into his mouth before I can stop it.
His other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer across the center console. The angle is awkward—truck cabs weren't designed for making out, that's for sure—but neither of us seems to care. He kisses me like he's been waiting to do this all night. Like he's been thinking about nothing else since I walked through the firehouse door. Like I'm something worth savoring.
I lose myself in the sensation—the heat of his mouth, the strength of his hands, the way his scent wraps around me and makes everything else fade away. My fingers find his hair, tangling in the soft strands, and he makes a sound low in his throat that sends electricity down my spine.
And then?—
HONK.
We jump apart like teenagers caught by parents. The truck horn blares through the quiet garage, and I look up to see Lieutenant Rodriguez standing beside the neighboring truck, her finger clearly just lifted from its horn button. She's making a tsking motion with her other hand, shaking her head in mock disappointment.
"Hater," Elias groans, but there's laughter in his voice.
Rodriguez just grins, supremely satisfied with her interruption. "Party's moving to the common room for movies. Unless you two want to stay out here and fog up the windows like high schoolers."
"We're coming," Elias calls back, then looks at me with an expression that's half-apologetic and half-amused. "Want to go inside? Clean up, watch movies with the boys?"
I'm still trying to catch my breath, still feeling the ghost of his lips against mine. "Sure."
"Fair warning—" He helps me climb down from the truck, his hand steady on my waist. "You're sitting on my lap."
I raise an eyebrow at him, feeling that boldness rise up again—the version of me that only emerges when I'm comfortable, when I'm with people who make me feel safe. "I'll do my best to remain still."
His eyes darken, and his grip on my waist tightens momentarily. "Careful, Sweet Rebel. Don't make promises you can't keep."
The common room has been transformed into a movie-watching paradise. Couches and chairs have been dragged into a semicircle facing a large TV mounted on the wall. Blankets are piled everywhere, bowls of popcorn and candy scattered across every available surface. The firefighters have shed their earlier nervousness around me and are now sprawled across furniture like oversized puppies, arguing about what to watch.
"Action!"
"Romance! It's Valentine's Day!"
"If you put on another Nicholas Sparks movie, Martinez, I swear to God?—"
"Horror! We should watch horror!"
"You literally cried during the last horror movie, Thompson."
"I had something in my eye! Allergies!"
"It's February. There's snow on the ground."
"Indoor allergies!"
Elias settles into an oversized armchair, pulling me down onto his lap before I can protest. Not that I want to protest. The position is surprisingly comfortable—his arms around my waist, my back against his chest, surrounded by his warmth and his woodsmoke-and-pine scent. Someone throws a blanket over both of us, and I snuggle deeper into his embrace.
I could get used to this. I could get dangerously used to this. The casual intimacy. The public affection. The feeling of belonging somewhere.
They eventually settle on an action comedy—something with car chases and explosions and a surprising amount of heart. I find myself relaxing fully into Elias's embrace, laughing at the jokes, groaning at the bad puns, feeling like I'm part of something bigger than myself. His chin rests on my shoulder, and every now and then he presses a kiss to my hair.
At some point, Rodriguez catches my eye from across the room and gives me a subtle nod of approval. Like she's decidedI'm acceptable. Like I've passed some unspoken test that I didn't even know I was taking.
Found family indeed.
The evening winds down slowly. Firefighters drift off to their bunks or their cars, calling goodbyes and making Elias promise to bring me back soon. "You're welcome anytime, Rosemarie!" Martinez calls. "Even without the Chief!" The fondue pots are cleaned, the decorations are left for tomorrow's cleanup crew, and eventually it's just Elias and me walking toward the exit, our footsteps echoing in the now-quiet firehouse.
