Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 32231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
I slide the ring on her finger, and she drops to her knees, wrapping her arms around my neck. We collapse into each other, mouths meeting with years of heat and hope and relief.
She tastes like fire and sugar. My favorite addiction.
I pull back just enough to see her face. “You crying because I’m sentimental now? Told you I had layers.”
She huffs a laugh and kisses my jaw. “You’re a gooey cinnamon roll wrapped in firefighter bravado.”
I growl. “You better take that back.”
“Nope. I stand by it.” She grins against my lips, then leans back on her heels and bites her lip like she’s holding something back.
“What?”
She reaches into her oversized purse, digs around, and pulls out a white plastic stick.
My brain doesn’t catch up right away.
“You…?”
She hands it to me. Two lines.
Positive.
The world tilts.
“Firecracker,” I whisper, voice gone. “You’re pregnant?”
She nods, teary again. “I took it this morning. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. Then you go and make me cry twice in one day, and—”
I lift her off the floor in one smooth motion, her laughter ringing through the studio. I carry her across the room, past her wheel and my tools, through the back office, and into the studio’s private loft where we sometimes nap or escape on long workdays.
I set her on the couch, yank the blinds closed, and sink to my knees between her thighs.
“You’re mine,” I murmur, hands on her hips, dragging her shirt up slowly. “All of you. Forever.”
She tangles her fingers in my hair. “Forever sounds good.”
“Good,” I mutter against her belly. “Because I’m never lettin’ you go.”
She gasps as I lift her higher, her thighs hooked over my shoulders.
“I should take you home first—”
“No,” she breathes, eyes dark. “Here. Now.”
So I do.
I worship her in the space we built together. Her body curves under mine like we were cut from the same flame. Her hips rise to meet every thrust. Her nails rake down my back like she’s trying to brand me.
I kiss her until she sobs into my mouth. Until she falls apart in my hands.
And then I join her—spilling into the woman who lit a fire in me so fierce, I’ll never burn out.
Later, when our bodies are tangled in a mess of sweat and blankets, she whispers, “We’re really doing this, huh?”
I nod, stroking a thumb over her stomach. “Yeah, Firecracker. We are.”
“I hope the baby’s wild.”
I snort. “No doubt about that.”
“You think we’ll be good at this? Parents?”
I roll her onto her back, pin her with a look. “You made me want to live again. You think I won’t fight tooth and nail to be the kind of dad our kid deserves?”
She brushes a hand over my stubble, soft and slow. “You’re gonna be amazing.”
I tuck my face into her neck, hold her tighter. “You already are.”
Outside, Copper Mountain is quiet. Peaceful.
But in this loft, wrapped around the only woman I’ll ever love, I know one thing for sure—
I’m fireproof now.
Because she’s my flame.
And I’m never going out.
Second Epilogue
Ember–five years later
I lean back in the lawn chair, chestnut hair caught in a loose braid, and take in the sight of Clay—shirt off, sunscreen glistening on his shoulders—wading into the clear mountain lake with our two kids in tow. The water laps around him, and the kids shriek when he splashes them. He laughs, loud and free, and it hits me: this is everything I never thought possible.
“Hey, Fireman!” I call, raising my voice across the water. “Don’t let the kids distract you too much—your fishing rod’s waiting.”
He glances over, grin widening, and winks. “Don’t worry, Firecracker—I catch more than fish.” He gives me a slow wave, then dives under the water. The kids erupt in giggles.
I smile, that warm, full kind of smile that makes my chest ache. Because this—this right now—is our life. Two kids, a studio and firehouse side by side, laughter echoing off the trees. I didn’t just survive my past—I thrived. With him.
I rise, stretching my arms, feeling the sun hit my skin. I walk toward the picnic bench where our gear is stashed—cooler, rod racks, snacks. Clay emerges from the lake, kids climbing out and shivering despite the heat. He hands each a towel and fishes our youngest’s toy dinosaur out of the water.
“Mama!” Rory, the youngest, shouts. “Dad took Rex!”
Clay holds Rex up high. “He jumped ship. He’s headed for shark territory.”
She rolls her eyes. I grin. He’s impossible. And exactly right.
I drape a towel around my shoulders and walk down to the water’s edge. Clay watches me, those gray-blue eyes taking in my wet sundress clinging to me. Nearly translucent in the hot sun. My heart thunders in my chest when his gaze flicks to my legs, then up to my face.
“Come on in,” I say, tone playful. “The water’s nearly warm enough for me—will you consider joining?”