Page 16 of The Grumpy Firefighter
"I'm always careful," I remind her.
Her smile is small but genuine. "I know. It's one of the things I like about you."
The roof work is challenging in the steadily accumulating snow, but between Austin's assistance and my experience, we manage to create a temporary solution that will protect the valuable collections below. By the time we climb down, the bookstore is reorganized, vulnerable items moved to safety, and Nora is serving hot tea to everyone involved.
After ensuring the building is secure, I dismiss Nathan and Austin to return to the station while I stay behind to complete final checks. The snow has transformed Whitetail Falls entirely now, softening edges and muffling sounds, the late afternoon light filtered through clouds to create a pearly glow.
When the last of the volunteers has gone and Nora has retreated to the back office to call the insurance company, Natalie and I find ourselves alone in the main reading room, surrounded by rescued books and the gentle hush of falling snow outside the windows.
"Thank you," she says simply, standing close enough that I can see snowflakes melting in her hair. "Not just for today, but for everything. The maze, my ankle, this morning..." A blush colors her cheeks at that last reference.
"You don't need to thank me," I say, voice rougher than intended. "It's my job to protect this town."
"Is that all I am?" she asks quietly. "Part of your job?"
The question deserves honesty, however uncomfortable it makes me. "No," I admit. "You're much more than that."
Her eyes search mine, looking for something I hope she finds. "What am I, then?"
The words don't come easily, I've spent too many years keeping emotions contained, relationships at arm's length, but Natalie deserves the truth, however imperfectly expressed.
"You're the first person in years who's made me want more than just doing my job," I tell her. "You challenge me. Frustrate me." I reach out, tucking that wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "Make me feel things I thought I'd locked away for good."
Her smile blooms slowly, lighting her entire face. "That might be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"I'm not good at romance," I warn her.
"I disagree," she counters, stepping closer. "I think you just express it differently. Through protection. Through paying attention. Through respecting what matters to me, even when it's not what you'd choose."
She understands me better than I expected, this bright, optimistic woman who crashed into my life with cookies and ambitious plans.
"I'm still going to insist on proper safety protocols," I feel compelled to point out.
She laughs, the sound warming the space between us. "And I'm still going to push for a little more magic, a little more creativity. But I think that's why we work, don't you?"
"We work," I agree, the simple statement feeling like a profound admission.
Outside, the snow continues to fall, transforming Emberstone Avenue into a wonderland of white. As if by mutual agreement, we move to the window, standing side by side to watch the transformation.
"It's beautiful," Natalie murmurs, leaning slightly against my shoulder.
I look down at her upturned face, at the wonder reflected in her eyes, and find myself saying, "Yes, it is."
Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with natural ease. "Walk with me?" she asks. "Just down to the town square and back. I want to see everything with the fresh snow."
It's not the practical choice, we should be checking weather reports, ensuring the station is prepared for emergency calls, a dozen other responsible tasks… but for once, I choose the moment over the protocol.
"Let me get your coat," I say, and her smile is worth every procedural rule I'm bending.
Hand in hand, we step out into the gently falling snow, our footprints the first to mark the pristine sidewalk. Lanterns along Emberstone Avenue glow softly through the white curtain, creating pools of golden light that guide our way.
As we reach the town square, where white lights wrapped around the oak trees now shimmer through veils of snow, I find myself imagining a future, more walks like this, more mornings waking beside her, more opportunities to balance my caution with her creativity.
"We make a good team," she says, squeezing my hand.
"We do," I agree, pulling her gently to a stop beneath the largest oak. Snow dusts her hair like stars, her cheeks pink from the cold, eyes bright in the lantern light. "And I'd like to keep being a team, if that's what you want."
Her answer is to rise on tiptoes, pressing her cold lips to mine in a kiss that contains none of this morning's urgency but all of its tenderness. When we part, snowflakes falling gently around us, I know with certainty that some risks are worth taking after all.
