Page 42 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
I look around wildly, brandishing the stun gun, but I stop short at the sight of Blaze.
Hold on,Blaze?
The big Retriever plants himself on the porch like he owns it, tail thudding against the deck, tongue lolling out in an easy, crooked smile like this is a usual late-night visit. His head tilts, ears perked, dark eyes bright with the kind of loyalty only dogs seem to master.
The adrenaline caves out of me so fast my knees nearly buckle, and the breath I’ve been strangling comes rushing free, part laugh, part gasp. My fingers fall away from the stun gun, the hard edge of fear melting into something feather-soft and shaky.
“Blaze,” I whisper, the name falling from my lips like a prayer I didn’t know I was saying.
The moment my voice hits the air, he lumbers forward and nudges his nose against my hand, rough tongue sweeping across my skin, washing away every last bit of tension still clinging to me. Before I can catch my breath, he barrels past me, paws clicking softly against the floor, head down, nose twitching like a compass locked on one single point.
I follow him, barefoot and lightheaded, watching the sway of his tail as he moves through the house with purpose, sniffing his way toward the one room I don’t need to ask about. Parker’s.
His tail wags faster when he reaches the door, and he sinks to the floor like a soldier reporting for duty, his nose pressed to the gap beneath the wood, ears flicking at every soft sound from inside. A quiet huff escapes him, like even now, he’s standing guard. Like he missed him.
He raises a paw, rests it against the door, and turns his head back at me expectantly.He’s waiting for me to open the door. I can’t resist a smile as I push the door open.
I watch him pad across the room, nose twitching, paws light on the wooden floor until he reaches Parker’s bed. He hops up with the softest rustle of blankets and tucks himself in close, settling his head against Parker’s side.
Parker stirs, his small body instinctively curling into the warmth, a tiny, sleepy hum pushing past his lips as his arm flops over Blaze’s neck, fingers digging into the thick fur like it’s the most natural thing in the world. This is exactly where he belongs.
The tight, knotted place inside me loosens, unfurling slowly and tender around the edges. I should worry about Parker getting too attached to a dog that isn’t his, about how fast all of this is becoming normal, but I don’t.
Not tonight. The sight is too honest, too pure. I can’t fight the obvious bond between them.
I pull the door halfway closed, leaving enough space for the soft sounds of Parker’s breathing to drift out, and my bare feet carry me back through the house toward the front door. The night air slips through the open frame, cool against my skin, and for a moment, I linger there, fingers brushing over the door as I reach for the door knob.
I should call Noah. Let him know Blaze is here.
But the thought stalls almost as fast as it comes, sinking heavily in the space between want and reality. I don’t have his number. I never asked. He never gave it. My thumb hovers over the lock, mind tumbling over the same loop until the quiet is broken by the soft crunch of footsteps threading through the grass.
I lean forward to check the sound out, and there he is.
Noah.
Moving toward me like the night built him from scratch, his body a map of moonlight and shadow. He has on gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, loose and soft, clinging in all the places my eyes shouldn’t linger but do.
His chest is bare, broad and golden, scattered with freckles, the faint sheen of his skin catching the porch light like the last piece of a dream I wasn’t ready to wake from.Does he make it a habit to walk around with no shirt?
Heat coils deep and low, blooming through me like wildfire, unspooling in slow, pulsing waves that make my knees feel unsteady. My body reacts without permission, every nervesuddenly too aware of his nearness, the way he moves, the quiet power behind each step.
God, the sight of him is almost too much.
I don’t even pretend not to look. I let my gaze drag over him, slow and shameless, watching the flex of muscle and the soft sway of his stride. My thighs press tight, an ache blooming where I’m already too aware of every beat of my own pulse.
His voice cuts through the stretch of air between us, low and rough, pulling me back from the edge. “Hey, sorry to bother you. You seen Blaze?”
I hear the words, but my mind doesn’t cooperate. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I lift my hand instead, pointing back toward the hallway, the only answer I can manage while my brain scrambles to catch up with the heat flooding my body.
His brow lifts, a small flicker of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth, like he knows the mess he’s made of me. His voice softens, easy and patient. “Mind if I come in?”
All I can do is nod.
He steps inside, bare feet brushing against the hardwood, and I lead him wordlessly down the hall, my body thrumming with nervous energy.
At Parker’s door, I ease it open wide enough for him to see Parker and Blaze curled against each other, tangled in blankets and trust, two steady heartbeats tucked safely in the same cocoon.
Noah doesn’t say a word. The look on his face says everything. His gaze lingers on them for a long, quiet moment, and then he shifts back, stepping away from the door, his expression soft and unreadable.
