My hand freezes on the locker door. Somehow, last night hid the reality of the stupid bet.
Austin sees my face and winces. “Seriously? You forgot.”
“I was focused on the event.”
“And a certain woman in a squirrel costume.”
“I need to focus on the bakery. The Ball. Work.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Running scared?”
I slam the locker harder than necessary. “I run into fires. Not away from them.”
“Except when it comes to women, relationships, love.” He warbles the last one.
Love.
The notion erodes the walls in my chest. I lean against the lockers, suddenly exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with lack of sleep.
“What if it was just the situation?” The question comes outquiet. “The storm. The adrenaline. What if she realizes it was a mistake?”
“Did it feel like a mistake?”
I close my eyes and I’m back in the first aid room. The way she sees past the barriers I’ve built and navigates a way through. She said loving a firefighter means loving someone brave. No one has ever called me brave for anything other than running into burning buildings … because I never gave them a reason to.
I shake my head slowly. “It didn’t feel like a mistake.”
“Then why are you hiding in the locker room?”
“Because—” I stop. Start again. “I can’t put Winnie through?—”
He knows the end of that sentence … what my mother experienced. “So you’re just going to push her away? Pretend nothing happened?”
I imagine my father and Captain Kendrick hauling me out into a snowbank.
Austin sighs. “For what it’s worth? I think she’d choose you, anyway. Even knowing the risks.”
“That’s what terrifies me.”
He claps me on the shoulder and leaves me alone with my thoughts, which is the last thing I need.
In the coming days,I throw myself into work at the old firehouse, soon to be a bakery and café. Physical labor makes for a great and practical distraction. Sanding floors, fixing the plumbing, installing the new ovens—it all requires focus and leaves no room for thinking about mocha brown eyes and messy hair and the way Winnie says my name.
Except I keep seeing her, anyway.
Laughing at Austin’s jokes while he passes out the latestCrush Cakes test recipes. Suggesting we name one after Captain Kendrick. Standing in the middle of the hallway outside my office while talking with staff, like she can see the future taking shape.
She fits here. In this town of mine—ours, the crew’s—she belongs.
My phone buzzes.
Winnie: Hey, about the other night …
When I don’t answer, my phone beeps again.
Winnie: Can we talk?
I should respond immediately. Suggest a time and place. Invite her over to check on progress. Be an adult about this. Instead, I set the phone down and pick up a hammer.
