DEAN
Rex is still whining when I pull into the fire station parking lot.
“She’s not your friend,” I tell him, killing the engine. “She’s a safety hazard wrapped in glitter and terrible ideas.”
He whines louder, pressing his nose against the window like a lovesick teenager watching his crush walk away.
“Traitor,” I mutter, but my hands are gripping the steering wheel harder than necessary. Not from anger. From the memory of Jo Lennox’s body pressed against mine for those few breathless seconds. The way her pupils dilated when our eyes met. That soft gasp she made when I caught her.
The way I looked at her mouth like a man starving.
I scrub a hand over my face and find glitter on my palm. Pink glitter. It’s in my hair, on my uniform, probably embedded in my skin at this point. I look like I got into a fight with a craft store and lost.
The station door opens, and Asher Lennox walks out, stopping dead when he sees me.
For one terrible second, I think the glitter has given me away. That he can somehow tell I was holding his mother close enough to count her heartbeats. That he knows I spent those suspendedseconds cataloging the gold flecks in her green eyes instead of thinking about fire codes.
“Chief?” His eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “Did you... is that glitter?”
“Your mother,” I say flatly, climbing out of the truck, “is a menace to public safety.”
Something flickers across his face. Amusement, maybe. Or concern. “What did she do?”
“Had thirty women crammed into a six-hundred-square-foot space with blocked exits and enough flammable materials to turn that boutique into a tinderbox.” I pause. “Also, there’s a life-sized cardboard cutout of Fabio that violates approximately seven different codes.”
Asher’s mouth twitches. He’s trying not to smile. “Sounds like Mom.”
“It’s not funny, Lennox. Someone could’ve been seriously hurt.”
“I know.” He sobers, but there’s still warmth in his expression. That look he gets whenever anyone mentions Jo. Like she’s simultaneously the best and most exasperating person in his life. “But she means well. She’s just...enthusiastic.”
Enthusiastic. That’s one word for a woman who creates chaos wherever she goes and somehow makes it look like magic. Who argues with me about fire safety while covered in glitter and holding a glue gun like a weapon. Who fits against my chest like she was made to be there and looked at me like?—
I cut that thought off hard.
“I cited her,” I say, more sharply than I intend. “Multiple violations. She has a week to comply or I’m shutting down her Valentine’s festival.”
Asher winces. “She’s not going to take that well.”
“She didn’t.” The memory of her eyes flashing with fury makes something hot twist in my gut. The way she’d steppedtoward me, all that sunshine personality turning into a storm. Calling me out for crushing dreams like she could see straight through my professional distance to the parts of me I keep locked down.
Like she knew exactly how to get under my skin.
“Chief.” Asher’s voice pulls me back. “I know you have to do your job. I get it. But...she’s really excited about this festival. It means a lot to her.”
“I’m aware.” Too aware. I can still hear the crack in her voice when she talked about moving here after her divorce. About building something from nothing. About wanting to give back to the community that saved her.
I know what it’s like to build walls after loss. To throw yourself into work because it’s safer than feeling anything else. I recognize it because I’ve been doing the same thing for five years.
But I also know what it’s like to lose someone because safety protocols weren’t followed. Because someone made a judgment call and got it wrong.
I’m not letting that happen on my watch. Not even for a woman with green-blue eyes and a smile that could melt steel.
Especially not for her.
“She’ll figure it out,” I tell Asher, heading for the station. “She seems resourceful.”
“That’s one word for it.” There’s affection in his voice. Pride. “She raised me alone after Dad left. Built a business from scratch. Joined a book club in a town where she didn’t know anyone, and now half of Twin Waves shows up at her boutique.”
