Page 41 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
He didn’t want to be a grandfather. He wanted to be in control. And he wanted me to marry another man. Not for love. For business. For the family name, the company, and the legacy.
My son would be raised in boardrooms and country clubs, groomed for a life that never felt like mine to begin with. And if I didn’t agree... he’d take Parker from me.
Richard Sinclair definitely had the money and influence to take Parker from me and do more. I didn’t wait to see if he was just threatening me or would actually pull through. I packed our lives into the back of my car and left.
A week in a hotel and a dwindling wallet forced me to find a small town where Richard wouldn’t find us and a job to put a roof over our heads.
Now, here I am. Sitting in this tiny, cozy cottage that finally feels like home. Letting myself fall for a man who, for once, doesn’t want to own me. Who looks at Parker like he’s more than baggage. Who makes me feel like I’m more than the sum of my mistakes.
But what does it say about me if I let this happen? About the woman who loved one man, lost him, and is already burning for another? Is it too soon? Is it wrong?
My hands tighten around the cup, but it’s not the tea I’m thinking about. One kiss from Noah woke something up in me, and now I can’t quiet it. One taste wasn’t enough. It never will be.
The worst part? With Parker’s father, even the good moments-the laughter, the warmth, the sex-had never unraveled me like this. It had been easy, familiar. Safe.
But with Noah... it’s something else entirely. One look, one brush of his fingers, and I’m soaked. One kiss, and I’m undone.
Here I am, sitting in the dark, my skin still tingling like he’s still close, like the night isn’t done with me yet.
My mind drifts, traitorous and soft, right back to the way his hands felt on my skin, the way his mouth tasted, and the intensity of his stare when he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.
And even though the guilt lingers, I know deep down I don’t want to fight it. I want him.
A sound slices through the quiet—scratching, deliberate, too close. My body goes still. The air turns brittle. I don’t breathe.
Another scrape, and I’m on my feet, ear straining to place the sound.
It’s not the wind nor the old porch settling.
My muscles snap tight, coiling in readiness for anything. My ears strain for another sound, anything that could explain away the fear crawling up the back of my neck, but the silence only makes it worse.
My mind spins out faster than my heartbeat. A shadow on the other side of the door. A hand. A stranger. The sound comes again, and I accept the only thing my imagination suggests.
A thief.
I set the mug down as gently as I can, but the cold tea still sloshes over the rim. I move as fast without making a sound toward the kitchen drawer. My fingers fumble the handle, thatstubborn old brass catch sticking, and for a second, the only sound in the house is my own ragged breathing.
The drawer finally gives, jerking open with a wooden groan. My hand closes around the cold steel body of the stun gun, fingers curling tight enough to make my knuckles burn.
The weight of it settles into my palm, reassuring me.
A sharp ache wedges itself into my chest, cutting right through the fear, a soft, desperate thought sneaking past all the others.Noah. If he were here, his steady voice, the sure way I’m certain his body would slot between me and anything dangerous, I wouldn’t feel like this. I wouldn’t feel alone.
The thought is a mistake. I bite down on it hard, forcing it back the way I’ve done with a hundred others. My jaw clenches tight, and I wrap both hands around the handle, clicking the on button with a shaky thumb.
You don’t need saving. You’ve got this.
I swallow hard and step toward the door, each footfall slow and careful, as if I can pin down my nerves one board at a time.
My free hand finds the knob, slick with sweat, and I curl my fingers around it, pressing my forehead to the cool wood for half a second just to catch the breath I lost somewhere along the way.
One.
Two.
Three.
I push, and the door flies open.
