Page 37 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
The kids scatter off the field in a blur of jerseys and laughter, leaving nothing behind but dust and scuffed bases. Tyler’s gathering up bats, Knox is rolling the practice balls into the worn mesh bag, and I’m trying like hell to focus on doing the same. But my eyes have a mind of their own.
Kate’s over by the snack table, her head thrown back in easy, unfiltered laughter, the kind that comes from deep in the chest. It’s bright and clear and so painfully pure it wedges itself under my ribs like a wedge, splitting me right open.
It’s been years…years…since I’ve heard a laugh like that. Hell, perhaps longer since I’ve felt what it does to me now. It’s the kind of sound that makes the world tilt for a second, like everything that’s jagged and bruised smooths out from that one simple noise.
And God help me; I want to be the one who puts it there.
I force my gaze down, jaw tight, muscles strained like I’ve just run up the lighthouse stairs in full gear. But it’s useless. The image of her has already burned into my mind.
A sharp nudge catches me in the side.
“You’re drooling,” Knox’s voice cuts in, dry as the dirt under his sneakers.
I blink hard, tearing my gaze away, jaw tightening as I bend to gather the stray bats and helmets scattered across the grass. “Knock it off,” I mutter, but the heat rising at the back of my neck betrayed me.
“Sure, I will,” Knox drawled, cocking his head. “Looked familiar, that’s all.” His eyes glinted with quiet knowing, the kind of sizing up that had stripped me bare more times than I can count, long before the man ever opened his mouth.
“I used to wear that same damn expression, remember? Before I stopped being a stubborn jackass and let myself have what I wanted.”
My grip on the bat handle flexed the worn leather, groaning under my palm.
“Don’t start,” I warn, but Knox only shrugged, the picture of patience, like a man waiting for a slow-moving train to finally pull into the station.
Tyler joins in, lazily tossing a glove into the equipment bag. “You know he’s right. You’ve been watching her all afternoon, man. Might as well hand the woman a neon sign.”
I bite back a sharp reply, forcing my attention on the field, but it betrayed me again. My eyes drag back to her like the pull of a tide I don’t remember stepping into.
Kate stood a little apart from the other parents now, crouched to tie Parker’s loose shoelace, her fingers moving with the kind of tender ease that tugs at something I've kept locked away too long.
“You two would make a beautiful couple; such a pretty thing, huh?” I turn, and there’s Margaret standing behind me, firehouse ballcap tilted back on her head and a smug little grin stretched across her face.
I don’t know how the hell she snuck up on me, but the expression on her face tells me she’s been watching for a while.
Knox and Tyler both chuckle like wolves circling fresh meat, and Knox jerks his chin toward Margaret. “You should’ve seen him earlier. Took a ball straight to the head ‘cause he was too busy making heart eyes.”
Margaret snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth, but it doesn’t muffle the sound. “You’re kidding.”
“Swear to God,” Tyler chimes in. “Nearly knocked him out cold.”
I mutter a curse under my breath and rub the side of my head, the embarrassment of that sting nothing compared to the heat crawling up my neck now. Margaret watches me for a beat longer, eyes softening a little, before nudging me with her shoulder.
“You know, you could ask her out. Spare yourself the concussions.”
I shake my head, exhaling slowly, trying like hell to sound unaffected. “It’s not like that.”
Margaret arches a brow, unconvinced. “No? Sure, looks like it from where I’m standing.”
“She’s not looking for a man,” I say quietly, more to myself than to her. “Whatever the reason she’s here… I’m not about to be another complication.”
Margaret studies me for a moment, that sharp, perceptive glint she always hides under sarcasm, cutting right through. But, to her credit, she lets it go with a simple, “Your call, Captain.”
Then she heads off toward the cluster of women…Emily, Rachel…fitting in like she’s known them all her life.
I stand, watching Kate out of the corner of my eye as Parker tugs at her hand and she smiles down at him, and for the life of me, I can’t shake the thought that maybe, for the first time in a long while, I want to be a part of something... and it scares the hell out of me.
Knox and Tyler eventually call it too, slinging the last of the equipment into the truck bed before exchanging the same look married men give when they’ve got someone waiting for them on the sidelines.
Knox’s gaze flicks once toward Emily-she’s over there now, leaning against the fence, the late sun catching the strands of her hair, softening her sharp edges. Tyler’s wife, Rachel, is the same, standing nearby with her easy smile, the kind that says I know exactly where I belong.
