Page 1 of Merriment and Mayhem
Chapter One
911. Where is your emergency?”
“215 Juniper Lane, Port Angeles. I need you to send the fire department.”
“What’s your emergency?”
“There’s smoke coming from next door. A lot of it. I—hell, I think my neighbor’s house is on fire.”
Everleigh Dangerfield sputtered and coughed, choking on the thick cloud of acrid smoke clinging to the kitchen ceiling.
Soft and chewy gingerbread cookies,the handwritten recipe card read.A simple, foolproof take on a holiday classic.
Foolproof, her ass.
If Grandma Dangerfield could see Everleigh now, she’d be shaking her head. Not even in town for forty-eight hours and already the house looked like a bomb had gone off, whatever dry chemical they put inside fire extinguishers blanketing the kitchen, scorch marks halfway up the wall, the oven nothing more than a burned-out box. At the center of it all, Everleigh stood on her tiptoes, sweating and swearing, balancedprecariously on the tiny beamlike strip of counter between the stove and refrigerator. Frantically, she flapped a tea towel in front of the smoke detector.
Over the incessant chirping came the banging of a heavy fist against the front door.
“Port Angeles Fire Department!” someone shouted. “We got a call about a potential fire at this address?”
Everleigh whimpered. Great. She wasn’t even wearingpants. “It’s open!”
Another knock followed, this one louder and more urgent, rattling the door against the frame. “Fire department! Anyone home?”
Fuck.Honestly? She blew a strand of pink hair out of her face and pitched her voice louder. “I said that it’s—eep!”
Her heart lurched into her throat, her sock-covered feet slipping on the melamine countertop, arms pinwheeling uselessly at her sides. Tense from the top of her head down to her toes, Everleigh braced for impact as the floor rushed up to meet her.
Over the roar of blood in her ears came the sound of pounding footsteps. A split second later, two strong arms cocooned her, catching her midair, cushioning her fall.
She tipped her head back to get a look at the—she assumed—firefighter who’d spared her at least a few bruises, and promptly forgot how to speak the moment her gaze locked with his.
Holy shit.Everleigh wasn’t usually one to swoon over a pretty face, but if ever there was an exception to be made, the guy cradling her against the broad expanse of his chest was it. His black helmet had slipped, dark, tousled hair falling haphazardly across his forehead, a charmingly boyish counterpoint to the hard line of his jaw, the prominent cleft in his chin, the slightly crooked bridge of his nose. Inky lashesframed eyes a color of blue Everleigh had never seen before, not outside of a postcard-worthy picture taken somewhere far, far away, where the beaches were covered in white sand instead of driftwood and the waters were crystal clear.
“Nice catch,” she rasped, breathless in a way that had nothing to do with the smoke still lingering in the air.
Those aqua eyes swept over Everleigh from her head down to her sock-covered feet and—Really?Her cheeks prickled with heat. The white crew socks she had on featured the infamous Elf on the Shelf, grinding on a candy cane like a stripper pole.Santa’s little ho, ho, ho,they read.
Deep dimples bracketed his mouth when he grinned. “I’d say.”
She sucked in a deep breath. This close, and even with the stench of smoke stuck in her nose, she could smell him. Clean and faintly soapy with just a hint of warm sweat beneath. She wanted to press her nose against the skin of his neck and breathe him in.
Behind them, a throat cleared, snapping Everleigh out of her lusty reverie. Since when did she findsweatattractive? A totalstranger’ssweat at that. Chalking the bizarre desire up to stress-induced, temporary insanity, Everleigh craned her neck, trying to see over his shoulder.
In the doorway, a man with a copper crew cut and an abundance of freckles stood arm to arm with a tall East Asian woman with long, dark hair that hung in a neat braid over her shoulder. On her other side was a broad-shouldered Black woman whose red helmet set her apart from the others. Otherwise, they were dressed identically in standard turnout gear—a black coat and cargo pant set adorned with reflective stripes and heavy-duty-looking leather boots. PAFD 33, their helmets all read.
The firefighter cradling Everleigh in his arms set her down on her feet, one hand lingering on the small of her back for a moment as if making sure she wasn’t going to topple over. He glanced at the woman in the red helmet—the fire captain, Everleigh presumed—and his smile turned a touch sheepish. “Looks like the fire’s out, Cap.”
She shot him a look full of fond exasperation. “It would appear so, Brantley.”
Brantley.Was that a first name or a last name? Before Everleigh could ask, the captain turned to her with a placid smile. “Hi, I’m Captain Keegan. Are you all right? Any burns or injuries we need to take a look at?”
“No, I ... I’m all good.” Everleigh shook her head and tugged on the hem of her oversize sleep shirt, making sure her ass was covered. “Sorry to have wasted your time.”
Overhead, the smoke detector continued to chirp obnoxiously.
Humming softly to herself, Captain Keegan stepped farther into the kitchen, regarding the aftermath of Everleigh’s adventure in baking with a baffled frown. “Can you tell me what exactly happened here?”
