Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 19364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
“I’m not talking about last night,” I continue. “Or the storm. Or the letters. I mean—every day. From here on out. No hiding. No pen names. No waiting for the ‘right’ moment that never comes.”
She swallows. “Dax…”
“I know I screwed up,” I say, firm but calm. “I know I hurt you. I don’t get to erase that. But I’m done being afraid of wanting you. I’m done pretending this is anything but what it’s always been.”
Her fingers curl tighter around mine.
“I’ve loved you since we were kids,” I say. “And I love you now. The real way. The kind that shows up in daylight. Face to face.”
Her throat works. “You’re terrifying when you’re this serious.”
“Good,” I say. “Means you’re listening.”
She laughs weakly, then exhales like she’s been holding something back for years. “You know what the worst part is?”
“Tell me.”
“The letters.” She lifts one hand between us, palm to chest. “They didn’t make me fall in love with some imaginary man.”
My pulse stutters.
“They made me fall in love with you,” she says softly. “The you who was already there every morning. Who remembered how I take my coffee. Who stayed.”
I step closer, backing her gently into the counter. Not trapping—claiming. She lets me.
“I felt seen,” she continues. “And safe. And wanted. And then I realized… I’ve always felt that way with you. I just didn’t let myself connect it.”
I lean in, resting my forehead against hers. “I should’ve said it sooner.”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. Then she smiles. “But I get why you didn’t.”
That breaks something open in me.
I cup her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. “No more letters.”
She nods. “No more hiding.”
I kiss her then—not rushed, not careful. Deep. Certain. The kind of kiss that says this is mine and I’m not letting go.
She makes a sound low in her throat, fingers sliding into my hair, tugging just enough to spark heat.
“You’re very confident all of a sudden,” she murmurs against my mouth.
“I’m done pretending I’m not,” I say. “You want me to slow down, say it.”
She tilts her head, eyes dark. “I didn’t say that.”
I smile and kiss her again, longer this time, hands steady at her hips. The tension coils tight, familiar and brand-new all at once.
We burn together—not in a rush, not in secret.
Out loud.
In daylight.
Finally.
“Let’s get you home, Red.” I hoist her into my arms, carrying her on steady strides through the firehouse and out to my truck.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m drawing her a bath at my place. I instruct her to get in and then leave to make her favorite tea.
When I return, I catch sight of her nestled in the mountain of bubbles, water lapping gently against porcelain and soapy foam spilling onto the floor. Even from the doorway, I can feel the tension in her shoulders beginning to melt away—exactly why I brought this little feast to her. Balancing a wooden tray, I set it down carefully on the edge of the tub.
“What’s your poison?” I ask, lifting a mug of cocoa in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. “I’ve got sandwiches, salad, fruit, cheese…”
She smiles up at me, the steam curling around her hair. “What kind of sandwich is it?”
“Ham, turkey, and cheese,” I admit, grinning. “I know, boring—but I was a bachelor before you.” I lean forward and press a soft kiss to her lips.
She snatches the sandwich from the tray and takes a bite. I run a finger along her cheek to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Going to stare at me while I eat?”
“I like watching those sexy lips,” I say, and she blushes. Then I rest my elbow on the tub’s rim and ask, “How does your back feel after sleeping on that bunk all night, sweetheart?”
She nods, shoulders relaxing further. “The bath really helps.”
I cup her chin. “I want to move you into my life as soon as possible. If you don’t like my place we can move somewhere else—up in the mountains—it doesn’t matter to me. My home is wherever you are.”
Her eyes lock on mine, and I lay my heart bare. I mean every word. She’s staring back at me with a light in her eyes that makes me grateful all over again.
She shakes her head softly. “No. I love your place. It’s peaceful. And I really love this giant tub.”
I feel pride bloom in my chest. I lean forward, hands cradling her face. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that? I always knew you were remarkable, but you’re more beautiful, strong, and compassionate than I ever dreamed. The town’s lucky to have you—and so am I.”
I let my thumbs brush her cheeks, my gaze burning into hers, wordlessly promising she’s found everything she deserves. Then she tugs at my shirt, a playful glint lighting her eyes.