Page 28 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
I feel it.
Noah’s gaze.
When I glance back, he’s still holding Maddox, still barefoot and rumpled, but his eyes are locked on mine. That same unreadable thing flickering beneath the surface.
“I’ll fix the light before you get back,” he says, voice quieter now.Just for me.
“Okay,” I murmur, the word sticking. “I’ll just get Parker; thank you again.”
I slip back inside, and I find Parker right where we left him—tucked under a quilt and snuggled with Blaze, his little hands tucked under his cheek, breathing slow and steady. I wait until I’m kneeling beside Parker before daring to breathe.
My pulse is racing, wild, and erratic beneath my skin. My thighs are damp, and my body hasn’t quite come down yet.
I’m awake now, fully and undeniably.
Voices float from the porch—Noah’s low, gravelly one and Emily’s easy laughter threaded through it. Something Knox says earns a quiet snort from Noah, and then there’s the creak of the rocking chair and the faint clink of the baby carrier being set down.
I brush a curl off his forehead. “Hey, baby,” I whisper. “Time to wake up.”
He mumbles something about dinosaurs and rolls toward me. I smile and press a kiss to his temple.
By the time I gather our things and slip back out the front door, the porch is empty, and I hear their voices in the kitchen.
The morning air kisses my cheeks as I step out, cool and fresh after the storm, and I hurry Parker across the yard toward the cottage, holding his hand and my breath at the same time.
Back in the cottage, I bathe Parker and get him dressed, fight with his left sock (as usual), pour a quick bowl of cereal, and splash water on my face that does nothing to erase the heat still lingering beneath my skin.
I’m pulling my hair into a messy braid when the doorbell rings.
My pulse stutters.
What if it’s Noah? Not yet. I’m still too shaky for Noah. I don’t want to think about everything that happened yet.
I crack open the door…
And there she is. Emily. Again. This time solo, holding a pie dish in both hands like it’s the key to an unspoken sisterhood.
“Hey,” she says with that bright, open smile. “Sorry to stalk you, but I figured you might like this.”
She holds out the pie. It's still warm. The scent hits me before I can even think—apples, cinnamon, something buttery and sinful.
“Oh,” I say, blinking at her. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to—”
“It’s from Ava’s recipe,” she says, eyes sparkling. “Noah’s favorite. Not that he’d admit it. He acts like he’s above pie- he’s not.”
I laugh as I wonder who Ava is. I can’t help it.
Emily grins. “Anyway, figured I’d give you this too.” She slips a card into my hand—her name, number, and a little note scribbled at the bottom: Call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just pie or a vent session.
A warm blooms inside me.
This is how it feels to be seen and approached. Not because there is something to be gained, but with genuine kindness. No strings. No pressure. Just…warmth.
“Thank you,” I say again, and this time I mean it more deeply. “I really appreciate it.”
“We’re glad you’re here,” Emily says softly. “I know this place can feel small sometimes, but... it grows on you. Fast.”
I nod, holding the warm pie between us, “It already is.”
