Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 48518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Quiet falls between us. Heavy. Loaded.
She watches me with that soft, stubborn expression that always gets under my skin.
“I’m allowed to care,” she says quietly.
I go still. Because that word—care—does something fierce to my insides.
“No,” I say. “You’re not.”
She flinches.
I hate that. More than I should.
“Lucy,” I say, softer, “I didn’t mean—”
“Forget it.” She forces a smile. “It’s fine.”
She’s lying. I can tell by the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She only does that when she’s trying to hide something.
“You should go,” I say gruffly. “It’s getting late.”
“I know.”
She heads toward the exit. Something claws at my chest. Before I can stop myself, I say, “Lucy.”
She stops. Turns halfway. Her eyes are softer now. Brighter. Sadder.
I swallow. “Thank you,” I manage. “For the cookies.”
“Oh.” Her throat bobs. “You’re welcome.”
Her voice is shaky. Mine is worse. “They were… nice.”
She stares at me for a long time. Like she’s searching for something. Like she’s trying to understand me when I barely understand myself.
Then she says quietly, “You’re allowed to be happy, you know.”
I freeze.
She takes a tiny step closer. “You’re allowed to have good days. You’re allowed to let people do nice things for you.” Her voice trembles. “You’re allowed to let me.”
My chest aches. She doesn’t look away. Not once. Hell. She’s going to destroy me.
I take a step toward her. Then another. We’re inches apart now.
Close enough that I feel her breath. Close enough that my hands want to grab her waist. Close enough that I catch myself leaning in—then I force myself to stop.
If I kiss her—if I let myself cross that line—everything changes.
For me. For her. For Holly.
Especially Holly.
I step back like it physically hurts.
Her eyes flicker. “Right. Okay.”
She turns to leave.
“Lucy—”
She pauses at the doorway.
I can’t say it. Not what I want. Not what she wants.
So I give her something small. Something pathetic. Something real.
“I liked seeing you here,” I admit.
She goes still.
Then—slowly—she smiles.
Soft. Warm. Deadly.
“Goodnight, Ash.”
“Night.”
She steps into the cold December air. The door swings closed behind her. And just like that— The firehouse feels colder than it should. The crew wanders back in.
Boone leans beside me. “So. We talking feelings yet, Calder?”
I glare. “No.”
“Because you two were staring at each other like a Hallmark movie on steroids.”
“Drop it.”
“Uh-huh.” He snorts. “Sure.”
Levi bites into another cookie. “You know she’s into you, right?”
“Not interested.”
They both laugh.
Boone slaps my shoulder. “Buddy. You’re screwed.”
I say nothing. Because the worst part is— He’s right.
I am screwed.
Completely.
Ridiculously.
Hopelessly.
Because Lucy Snow walked into my firehouse tonight—and I didn’t just want her kiss.
I wanted everything.
And that realization hits harder than any falling roof, any firestorm, any call I’ve taken in my entire life. I’m falling for the librarian down the road. The sunshiney girl with glitter in her hair. The chaos I swore I didn’t need. The woman who looks at me like I’m more than a walking emergency.
I’m falling.
And I’m not sure I know how to stop.
Chapter Ten
Lucy
Devil’s Peak has a unique ability to turn any event into a festival.
Tonight is the annual Community Snow Play Night hosted behind the firehouse—a kid-friendly excuse for hot chocolate, music, and supervised mayhem. Families are drinking cider. Volunteers are building snowmen. Holly is running in little boot prints shaped like chaos.
And then there’s me.
Shuffling toward the field trying to pretend I am not specifically scanning the crowd for one very grumpy, very broad-shouldered firefighter.
I totally am.
I spot him near the fire pits—Ash Calder in a black thermal shirt that hugs every unfair, sculpted line of him. He’s helping a group of kids build a mini snow fort, brow furrowed in concentration like he’s constructing a military-grade bunker instead of a play structure.
God help me, he’s adorable with kids.
The second he sees me, his shoulders stiffen, then his gaze sweeps over me like he’s checking for hazards.
Or maybe just losing his mind.
He mutters something to Talon, who smirks like an idiot.
Just another evening in my “definitely not crushing on Ash Calder” era.
I adjust my scarf and make my way through the snow when Holly spots me first.
“LUCY!” she shrieks, launching herself at me like a tiny, cinnamon-scented missile.
I catch her, spinning her once. “Hi, troublemaker. Having fun?”
“The most fun! Uncle Ash said I could throw one snowball as long as I didn’t aim at people’s faces.”
She grins mischievously.
“And did you follow that rule?” I ask.
“Nope!” she chirps.
Ash materializes behind her like a summoned demon. “She didn’t. She’s on probation.”
“Uncle Ash,” Holly says gravely, “probation means nothing at Christmas.”
I bite my lip to hide a laugh.
Ash looks at me like he’s begging for mercy. “Don’t encourage her.”
“I would never.”
“You always do.”
I shrug. “She’s cute.”
“She’s dangerous.”
“I wonder where she gets that.”
Talon snorts loudly. Ash shoots him a murderous look before turning back to me, jaw tight, voice low. “Why are you here, Lucy?”
“What? I’m volunteering. Like last time.”