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)
I should be annoyed. Normally I would be. But all I can think about is Lucy Snow.
Lucy with the soft morning voice and the too-honest eyes. Lucy with the blush she tries to hide and never succeeds. Lucy who stayed last night. Who said yes before I even finished asking. Lucy who’s somehow threading herself into every place inside my chest I thought I’d sealed shut.
I’m leaning over the workbench, tightening a bolt on the parade float’s metal framework, pretending like the entire world isn’t vibrating under my skin.
And then she walks in.
The door swings open with a gust of cold air and she steps inside — cheeks pink from the wind, hair tucked under a knitted hat, scarf wrapped around her neck, mittens tucked into her coat pockets. She looks like winter personified, except softer, sweeter, more dangerous to me than any storm.
Every head in the bay turns.
Lucy Snow walks into a room like the sun drops through the roof and everyone feels it. My wrench slips in my hand.
Her eyes scan the room until she finds me, and the smile that hits her face is small but real. Not the polite version she gives strangers. Not the professional version she gives library patrons. The version she gives me.
It hits me exactly where I don’t need to be hit.
Holly sees her before anyone else reacts.
My niece is perched at the table with colored markers and a mug of hot cocoa, swinging her legs wildly. She bolts up the second she spots Lucy like she’s just seen Santa himself.
“MISS LUCY!”
Lucy barely gets a chance to greet her before Holly launches into her arms. Lucy laughs, soft and warm, lifting her and spinning once, her mittens still dangling from her sleeve like a kid herself.
My chest tightens. And then it happens.
Holly pulls back, cups her hands around her mouth like she’s about to announce a national emergency, and yells at the top of her lungs:
“UNCLE ASH IS GOING TO MARRY THE LIBRARIAN!”
Time stops.
The bay goes silent. Absolutely dead silent.
Then, the firehouse erupts.
The crew howls, whistles, cheers, bangs on tables, shouts things I’m definitely going to make them run laps for later.
Lucy freezes, still holding Holly, eyes widening in a way that tells me she’s about to spontaneously combust.
My face doesn’t move. I don’t deny it.
I see the exact second that registers in Lucy’s expression. She turns a shade of red I didn’t know existed.
“You— you can’t just— Holly—sweetheart—what…?” Lucy sputters, trying to lower her voice while Holly climbs up further onto her hip and beams like she just won a prize.
“Did you hear me, Miss Lucy?” Holly asks, eyes huge. “Uncle Ash is going to marry you!”
A cough from the far corner. “Bold of the kid, but she’s not wrong.”
I glare at Ramirez. “Don’t you fucking start.”
He smirks. “I didn’t. She did.”
Lucy’s gaze ricochets between me and the crew like she’s trying to find a safe exit route but the building’s on fire.
I stay quiet. Not because I’m embarrassed. Not because I want the teasing to stop. But because every time I open my mouth around her, something honest threatens to slip out, and I can’t afford to drop truth bombs in front of the entire station.
Lucy finally sets Holly down, smoothing her hair with trembling fingers. “Holly, sweetheart, your uncle and I are not—”
“YET,” Holly interrupts loudly.
I choke. Lucy chokes. The crew absolutely loses their minds.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to look like I’m irritated and failing miserably. Because beneath the mortification and the noise and the chaos, there’s this warm punch of… something.
Something too big. Something I don’t name. Something that’s been growing since the second Lucy arrived in this town.
She looks at me, flustered, waiting for me to jump in and fix this, to deny everything, to diffuse it.
I don’t.
Her eyes widen even more, like she’s silently screaming at me:
Say something! Anything! For the love of God, Ash, fix this!
But I can’t.
Not when the idea doesn’t feel wrong. Not when it feels like the most dangerously right thing I’ve ever heard.
Holly tugs Lucy’s sleeve. “Did you hear me? You’re going to be family!”
Lucy gently crouches, her voice soft. “Holly, I love spending time with you, and I think your uncle is very—”
“Allergic to feelings?” Ramirez calls out.
I shoot him a look that could melt steel. He shuts up.
Lucy tries again. “Very… responsible.”
The entire crew groans.
“Boring!” someone shouts.
“Say heroic!” another calls.
“Say sexy!” Ramirez yells.
Lucy turns bright red again. “No!”
“Then say nothing,” I snap, giving the crew a look that promises future pain.
They scatter. Not fast enough.
Lucy straightens slowly, smoothing her hat like she’s trying to gather herself. She looks like a woman walking a tightrope between mortified and furious.
Her gaze finds mine again. And the room falls away.
“What,” she whispers, “was that?”
“A kid being a kid.”
“A kid who apparently thinks we’re—”