She laughs, scratching behind his ears as he sniffs her pocket. She pulls out a dog biscuit. “I’m bribing my way into his heart.”
“Smart strategy.”
We’re both smiling now, the moment lighter.
At the reminder of a dress uniform, I gather courage. “I know I should have done this already, but will you be my date to the Fireman’s Ball tonight? Officially?”
“Officially?” Her smile could illuminate the entire town.
“Winnie, will you officially be my date?”
She bounces a little. “Yes. Definitely yes.”
I grin as relief washes through me. “Yeah?”
“I’d love to.”
I want to kiss her. Want to pull her close and tell her everything—the bet, my feelings, all of it. But before I can, my radio crackles to life.
“Engine Seven, on Meadowbrook. Structure fire. Smoke showing.”
Adrenaline quickly replaces the relief. I drop a kiss onto her cheek. “I have to go.”
“I know. Be safe.”
I head toward danger, thinking about what I risk every single day and wonder if love is really the scariest thing I face.
The call to Meadowbrook was a false alarm—a garage band was testing a “smoke machine,” and a concerned neighbor was convinced the place had gone up in a blaze. But by the time I get home, I only have twenty minutes to shower, dress, and get to the Ball. Winnie had to be there early to help orchestrate things, otherwise, I’d pick her up.
I lay out my dress uniform with a navy blue jacket and trousers, a white shirt, and polished shoes, along with a few medals for occasions exactly like this.
After a shower, I shave and barely recognize the man looking back at me in the mirror. Nervous. Hopeful. In love.
Tonight, I’m telling Winnie everything. She’ll either forgive me or hate me. Hopefully, not that, but at least she’ll know.
When I arrive in the community room, it’s completely transformed. Winnie’s vision is executed perfectly—a woven tapestry of string lights lines the ceiling, creating a starry night effect, white and silver décor provide festive accents, and the dessert station features Crush Cakes. It’s elegant and warm, inviting and impressive.
The crew gathers near the entrance, all of us in dress garb. We look like actual adults instead of soot-covered firefighters. Then the doors open and guests start arriving.
I watch for Winnie like a hawk, waiting. Nerves firing. Hands clammy.
And then she appears.
My breath catches.
She wears the deep red gown that I only saw briefly at the boutique. I was captivated before, but right now, it makes her look like she stepped out of a dream. Her long hair is down and wavy, she’s dewy, wearing minimal makeup, and stunning.Miss Nevada is right … or the future Mrs. Cross. A guy can dream.
Our eyes meet across the room.
She smiles—nervous, hopeful, beautiful.
I can’t smile back. I’m too overwhelmed, too terrified, too in love. But I cross the room to her.
“You look beautiful,” I say when I clasp her hands.
She blushes. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”
We look each other over with so much unspoken between us.
