Page 6 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
I cut through the marshy trail behind the fishing docks, a shortcut I had not taken in a while. It winds behind a row of crab shacks and skirts around the tall reeds that whistle with the wind. Blaze leaps over puddles, nose twitching, ears alert. He senses the shift, too.
I cut through a shortcut and reached the edge of my property, but by then, my mood’s sunk deeper than my boots in the mud. There’s a salt sting in the air, low tide sharp, and the sea breeze bites at the back of my neck like it’s trying to wake me up. But all I want is to be alone.
Sink into the silence of the house. Let the day pass like a dull ache. I round the cedar trees that line the clearing and stop cold.
There’s a woman standing in front of my cottage.
And a kid.
She’s got her head tilted back like she’s admiring the place, not just seeing it but taking it in, like it’s something sacred. Sunlight filters through the mist behind her, catching in the waves of her hair, golden and soft, a little undone in that kind of way that doesn’t try.
Her shoulders are relaxed, but there’s this tension humming off her like she’s trying to breathe something in she hasn’t felt in a long time.
Next to her, a little boy bounces on his toes, pointing up toward the porch and jabbering about something I can’t hear. Perhaps six, tops. Small backpack strapped to him, dinosaur poking out of the zipper.
My brain stutters.
The tenant.
Shit. The tenant.
She was supposed to move in today. Rachel told me last week. I even left the side door unlocked yesterday like an idiot, but it slipped my mind this morning, the same way everything’s been slipping lately.
But it’s not the kid that’s got me frozen.
It’sher.
She turns and gazes in my direction, but I’m certain she can’t see me.
And the world stops.
Hazel eyes. Not just green, alive. Flickering green, gold, something else in between. Sunlight hits them, and they damn near glow. Her features are delicate, like someone carved her out of something soft. Cheekbones that catch the light, lips parted slightly like she’s mid-thought. Curious. Gentle. Almost too gentle for this place.
And then there’s the rest of her.
She’s tall, maybe 5’7” or so, and she holds herself with the kind of grace that says she doesn’t care who’s watching, but at the same time, she always knows when someone is. Slender frame, but curved in all the right places, hugged by clothes that are too nice for a beach town.
Cream blouse, fitted skirt, dressy shoes. Classy. Polished. Expensive. Her whole vibe screams New York or LA, not Porthaven. I duck instinctively behind one of the thick pines and crouch, heart thudding way too fast.
What the hell am I doing?
I’m not twelve. I’m a grown man hiding behind a damn tree. But I can’t move. I’m rooted there, as if I breathe too loud, she’ll vanish.
She bends to pull a suitcase from the backseat of her car, and the blouse shifts just enough to reveal a sliver of bare skin at her lower back. My gaze catches there, hot, shameful. I drag my eyes away, but they don’t listen.
Her hips move as she walks, slow, steady, almost rhythmic. Like she was made for movement. She doesn’t even realize the kind of storm she’s stirring up in a man who’s been stuck in grief for so long that he’s forgotten what true desire feels like.
And suddenly, my body remembers. It’s not the same with the want I have toward women I’ve been with to get the edge off. Heat slams into my gut like a gut punch, low and dangerous. My pants tighten uncomfortably, thick with pressure that hasn’t hit me in years, not like this.
My hands clench into fists, and I grit my teeth, trying to shift my stance without making noise. The friction only makes it worse. My cock’s hard, hard, and pulsing like it’s pissed because it has been so long since it met someone it truly wants to get down with.
Fuck.
It’s not only lust. It’s the shock of feeling something again, so fast, so fierce, so physical, it knocks the wind out of me. And God, it’s not just my body; my mind is reacting too. Like she walked out of some fever dream. Like every wire inside me has sparked back to life.
I close my eyes and try to breathe past it, but all I see is her. Her face turned up to the morning sun, eyes closed like she was home.
And I’m the one who lives here.
