Page 5 of Trouble

He laughs like I’m joking. “She’s twenty-eight years old, Chief. She can make that decision for herself. Besides, she’s a pop star. If anyone’s going to be calling the shots, it’s her.”

“She’s got a stalker,” I remind him. “That’s why she’s staying with me rather than with her best friend. She wants to spend the holidays with Lake and her family. Instead, she gets to put up with the town’s fire chief as her babysitter. Don’t complicate it.”

Cade sighs. “You’re always ruining my fun.”

Fun? I don’t even know what that means anymore. It’s been years since I’ve even considered having fun. Honestly, the last time Cade and I had fun…

No, I shake my head to rid myself of the memory. Thankfully, Hailey appears, snagging my attention as she sets our food in front of us. I’m not thinking of that night ever again.

CHAPTER 3

Melina

A cuter townin America does not exist. The streets are decked out in red, white, and blue—a patriotic tribute with the perfect amount of charm. Antique streetlamps decorated with holly light up the winter evening. Townspeople sporting Charles Dickens–styledresses stroll the cobblestone in front of the fire station, singing Christmas carols.

Don’t even get me started on the firefighters standing outside the firehouse, suspenders holding up black pants that no doubt hide beautifully thick thighs. And holy arm porn. Muscles upon muscles strain under white T-shirts with a simple BFD printed on the sleeve.

Yes, a girl could get used to a town like Bristol. It seems like the perfect place to start over. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll find my voice again here. Find my music.

I grip Lake’s arm as I suck in an exaggerated breath. “Holy shit, who are those hotties?”

Lake is laughing at me as two of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen walk toward us, their swagger making my girlie bits flutter. Hmm… Instantly, I’m running through ways I can get one of them to play with me.

The dark-haired man tilts closer to the other guy—the one wearinga backward blue Bolts hat.Hello, new kink unlocked. In response, hat guy grips his friend’s forearm and throws his head back and laughs.

That simple touch ignites a small fire in my belly. “Can you imagine being lucky enough to have boyfriends who were boyfriends? Talk about hot.”

Lake’s next comment throws a whole batch of kindling on my fire. “That’s your new roommate, the fire chief, Declan Everhart.”

Ford leans across her and whispers, “And that’s his best friend, Cade Fitzgerald, goalie coach of the Boston Bolts.”

“Damn, you weren’t kidding when you said the chief was sexy.” I fan my face. “Hello, hotties,” I mumble under my breath. “My name is Mel, and I’ll be your sexy catnip for the night.”

“Hate to break it to you, Mel,” Lake replies, her lips barely moving, “but the chief doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.” As the duo gets close, she breaks into a bright smile. “Chief, Coach,” she says. “It’s so good to see you both.”

As happens when people see my best friend, both men blink like cartoon characters.

The grumpier one swallows audibly and nods. “Lake, Ford, good to see you.”

When he turns to me, his gaze is like the snick of a lighter against my skin. It burns, the way I instantly and irrationally want this man. He’s not pretty. Not even a little. But the ruggedness is what draws me in. His chin is covered in a layer of scruff that looks like an afterthought. Like some days, he shaves and others, he’s too busy to worry about it. If I had to guess, it’s been a few since he bothered. It’s grown wild. Like it would burn between my thighs.

I’d relish every second.

While his jawline is hard and his cheekbones defined, his eyes hold a warmth I’m not expecting. They’re the color of milk chocolate, and they ooze empathy.

The moment that emotion registers, the fire that’s started to rage in my core is extinguished. This man is looking at me with pity. Like I’m an obligation. A woman he has to watch out for—because my stupid past is coming back to bite me in the ass.

As if his friend can sense the shift in my mood, he grins. “You mustbe Mel.” A flirtatious wink and a dimple pop round out the boyish charm that has me instantly forgetting why I was sad. “I’m Cade Fitzgerald, but everyone calls me Fitz.”

“The hockey coach,” I say with pizzazz in my tone.

He waggles his brows, making his ball cap shift slightly. “You been stalking me?”

Huffing, the chief nudges him in the side. “Maybe don’t mention stalkers,” he grumbles so quietly he probably thinks no one but his friend can hear him.

What he doesn’t know is that I grew up with a grandmother who constantly corrected my behavior in Portuguese, but she’d do it under her breath, so I have exceptionally good hearing.

“Bossman! Look, I found Uncle Dec,” a child shouts nearby. The ear-piercing noise is accompanied by a bundle of energy running straight for the chief. “Uncle Dec!”

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