Page 14 of The Grumpy Firefighter
In the guest room, he helps me into a pair of his sweatpants and a fresh WFFD t-shirt that smells like him—a clean, masculine scent with hints of cedar.
"You look good in my clothes," he observes, his expression warm as he watches me roll up the sleeves.
"I look ridiculous," I correct, but I'm smiling.
He shakes his head, stepping closer to tuck a damp strand of hair behind my ear. "Beautiful," he insists. "Though I prefer you in nothing at all."
Heat rises to my cheeks at the memory of how thoroughly he's explored my body this morning. "Likewise, Chief."
He kisses me again, soft and lingering, before reluctantly stepping back. "I should get dressed. And probably air out the apparatus bay before the crew returns and starts asking questions."
I laugh at the thought. "Good luck explaining why the fire pole is suspiciously clean."
His eyes widen comically. "I hadn't thought of that." Then he grins, an expression so unexpected and boyish it takes my breath away. "Worth it, though."
As he leaves to get dressed, I sit on the edge of the bed, fingertips tracing my still-tingling lips. Outside, the morning has fully bloomed, sunlight streaming through the windows, illuminating dust motes that dance in the air like tiny embers.
Whatever happens next, whatever complications arise from this unexpected connection, I know one thing with absolute certainty: I've never felt more alive, more seen, than in Paul Hawkins' arms this morning.
Chapter 6 – Paul
The crew will return soon, but for now, there's a stillness in the air, a pause between what happened this morning and whatever comes next.
Natalie moves around the kitchen with easy familiarity, as if she belongs here. Her damp hair curls around her face as she pours coffee, humming something under her breath.
I can't stop watching her. Can't stop remembering how she felt in my arms, the sounds she made, the way she looked at me like I was something worth seeing.
"You're staring, Chief," she says without turning around, a smile in her voice.
"Hard not to," I admit, surprising myself with the honesty. Before this morning—before her—I kept such thoughts locked down tight, protected behind walls of professionalism and distance.
She turns, coffee mug cradled in her hands, eyes bright with mischief. "Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment."
"Almost," I agree, fighting a smile.
The radio on my belt crackles to life, breaking our bubble of privacy. "Chief, we're heading back to station. ETA ten minutes." Logan's voice is clear, professional, giving no indication of the relentless teasing I know awaits me when he arrives.
"Copy that," I respond, then add, "Anything to report from morning rounds?"
"All quiet. Except—" Logan pauses, and I can hear the concern creeping into his voice, "—there's some weather moving in.First snow, coming in fast from the northwest. Visibility already dropping up at Clearwater Road."
Early snow isn't unusual in Whitetail Falls, but the sudden onset is concerning. I glance out the window where blue sky still dominates, though darker clouds are visible at the horizon.
"Understood. We'll prepare for weather response." I clip the radio back to my belt, already mentally shifting into emergency preparedness mode.
The sound of engines outside signals the return of the department SUVs. Within moments, the relative quiet of the station is replaced by the controlled chaos of five men entering, bringing with them the energy of movement, conversation, and purpose.
Logan enters first, eyebrows rising at the sight of Natalie in my clothes, but to his credit, he says nothing beyond a friendly, "Morning, Natalie. How's the ankle?"
"Much better," she answers, and I notice she doesn't elaborate on how she spent her morning, a discretion I appreciate.
Nathan follows, nodding to both of us as he shrugs off his jacket. "Weather's turning fast," he reports. "County's issued a winter advisory. First significant snowfall of the season."
Bradley, Arthur, and Austin file in behind him, each adding observations about road conditions and temperature drops. Austin's gaze lingers on Natalie a beat too long, taking in her attire, but a sharp look from me has him focusing elsewhere.
"We need to implement the early winter protocol," I announce, pulling everyone's attention to the task at hand. "Bradley, check the chains for all vehicles. Arthur, make sure the generator's fueled and ready. Nathan, inventory the cold-weather medicalsupplies. Austin, you're on communications, touch base with Whitetail Emergency Management."
The team disperses with practiced efficiency, each man knowing his role without further instruction. It's one of the things I value most about this crew, their ability to function as a seamless unit when needed.
