Page 87 of My Three Hometown Firefighters
I also don’t love that she lives here alone, but I know that’s just my own fears about what could happen to her or the baby—our little girl.
The moment I saw her on the screen, something inside me shifted. I knew nothing would ever be the same because I would be connected to her and her mom for the rest of my life.
You’d think that would have me running for the hills, but it’s given me a sense of peace I’ve never known.
There are so many unknowns, but I know one thing for sure. I’ve completely fallen for the redhead who’s dancing around her kitchen, putting all her groceries away.
No matter what happens or who the bio father is, the way I feel isn’t going to change.
Sienna has more stubbornness crammed into her small frame than should be humanly possible. She’s bound and determined to do as much of this as she can on her own.
She’s slowly letting us help more, but changing her living arrangement isn’t happening right now.
I shake my head, realizing I’ve been standing here lost in thought for far too long. “You’re welcome,” I say, hoping I didn’t miss anything else she said while I zoned out.
She looks over her shoulder, giving me a small smile. “Thank you for the pillow,” she says. I swear there’s a blush to her cheeks, but maybe it’s still from the cold air outside.
She’s had a hard time sleeping in the last few weeks, so I did some research. I thought this would help her, so I found the mostSiennabody pillow I could find. It’s a mix of reds, yellows, and oranges that look like a sunset.
“I hope you can sleep better with it. If you don’t like it, I can get you a different one,” I say on a rush.
She lightly grips my forearm. “Tucker, I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, staring into her eyes.
Fuck. I want to kiss her.And the way she’s staring back at me, I think she might just want to kiss me, too.
We don’t, though, because we’re just friends. As much as I might hate it now, it’s what she wants. Or at least, I think it is.
I don’t think any of us really know anymore.Just when I think the lines drawn in the sand can’t get any murkier, they do.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Grayson
“This is wild,”the guy says as I hand him his cup of coffee. I chuckle because he isn’t wrong.
I’m helping to man the concession stand for the city at the local skijoring event. Growing up seeing this happen every year, I don’t think it’s that odd, but for an outsider, I’m sure it looks a little insane.
Hickory Avenue, the main street that runs through town, is packed with several feet of snow that was hauled in from all over town with dump trucks.
People on skis are attached by a rope to someone riding a horse, who pulls them down the street. The horses don’t just trot along. No, they run at full speed.
Along the course, the skiers must collect rings and fly off ski jumps. It’s a race to see who can get the quickest time, while hitting all the marks from point A to point B.
I know that sounds like the most insane sport imaginable, but I swear Aspen Springs isn’t the only place where this happens. It’s a real thing.Kind of.
Just then, a horse races down the middle of the road. Clumps of snow fly as the horse’s hooves pound against the snow. Theman being pulled yells with excitement as he launches off the first jump.
I shake my head, smiling. “Yeah, it really is.”
Sliding the money the man gave me into the metal box, I see Tucker staring wide-eyed toward the end of the course.
“You think I’d be used to this by now, but even after watching for several years, I am still baffled by it,” he says.
I slap my hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get desensitized to it if you live here for long enough.”
He turns to look at Warren. “Do you think this is bat sh…” His voice trails off as he remembers that Jackson is standing next to his dad. “Bat shake crazy?”
