Page 79 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
And I don’t know how to stop it.
I look up from the notes just then and catch him watching me. He’s not even trying to hide it. He sits there with that unreadable look on his face, elbow propped on the table, eyes steady on me as though he’s trying to memorize something.
He smiles when he sees me looking, and I know I’m dangerously close to falling in love with him.
God, when did that happen? Somewhere between him holding Parker’s hand during his T-ball game and standing behind me while I brushed my teeth, and yawning into my hair. Somewhere in the middle of all the normal, he became essential.
I feel it now, low and deep, like something blooming where nothing had grown in a long time.
My hand finds his under the table before I even think. I slide my fingers over his knuckles, palm to palm, grounding myself in him. He blinks once, then squeezes gently, as though he knows exactly what I need.
The sound of the bell chiming as the door opens draws my attention.
Tara.
Her heels echo across the wooden floor sharply. Every step punctuates the silence that falls like a weighted curtain over theroom. Conversations die mid-sentence. Coffee cups hover just shy of the lips. Someone, maybe Emily, clears her throat.
Tara stands inside the doorway, sunglasses perched high on her head despite the overcast skies, one hand still wrapped around a pale pink box. Her blouse is cream, pressed and tucked with the kind of precision that saysI planned this.
Her lipstick doesn’t smudge when she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes either.
“Well,” she says, her voice syrupy with offense. “Don’t let me interrupt whatever... this is.” Her gaze slides to Noah, then to me, and the tight smile that follows doesn’t touch her eyes. “Didn’t realize I wasn’t welcome here.”
Silence stretches for a beat too long. Even Blaze lifts his head from where he’s sprawled beside Parker, ears twitching.
Ava is the first to speak. “Tara, you’re always welcome. We’ve had this meeting on the books for a while now, and you’re welcome to join us.”
Tara tosses a hand like she’s brushing dust from her jacket. “I wouldn’t even be here if Mom hadn’t begged me to drop off those vintage linens for your garden theme. But clearly, I’ll just be in the way.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and I brace.
Because she’s never subtle with me.
Over the past month, she hasn’t grown to accept me; if anything, her dislike for me has become even more apparent.
She finally turns her full attention on me, her mouth curving into something that could pass for polite if not for the venom tucked inside.
“You seem... comfortable,” she notes, eyes narrowing as she spots my hand laced in Noah’s. “Real cozy for someone who is an outsider.”
My stomach twists. I try to pull my hand away, but Noah holds firm. His thumb grazes the back of mine subtly, but grounding.
I don’t say anything. I can’t. My throat is too tight.
“I guess we’re including anyone in the town’s planning these days,” Tara adds, blinking slowly like she’ssosurprised. “No standards necessary.”
Elaine’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “Tara, that’s enough.”
But Tara only turns to her, unfazed. “No, it’s fine. I’m just trying to catch up and understand things.”
Then her gaze settles on Noah again, and something colder flickers behind her expression.
She laughs, short and brittle.
“Josie died carrying his child, and he’s playing house with…what, some art teacher from god-knows-where?”
She’s talking like he’s not in the room, like I’m not sitting right here, breathing through the ache her words leave behind.
Josie died carrying his child.
