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I checked my watch. Too dry and too hot, this season had really kept us on edge. We were on the edge of a disaster. Colorado hadn’t had significant rainfall for more than a month. My jaw tightened as I gave my lieutenant a speaking look. “Double-check packs. Make sure water’s staged. Make sure everyone has their crap ready to go. I think we have another burn coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ben moved off, but not before giving me a teasing grin. I ignored it. The crew would gossip about the new teacher I’d helped, but that wasn’t my problem. My job was to keep this town safe, no matter what it cost.

When an Eagle County sheriff’s SUV pulled up outside, I wasn’t surprised. My buddy Lane gave me a look as he walked across the pavement, his tan uniform precise. “Heard you caused a bit of a disturbance this morning.”

I shook my head. “Nope. Not me. I helped a damsel in distress. And saved a kitten.”

I winked at him, and Lane laughed, nudging his cowboy hat back on his head. “Did you really? We’ll just have to add it to your hero award list.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop. I don’t do it to get awards, you know that. You don’t either.”

One side of Lane’s mouth tipped up in a smirk. “Yeah, I know. Have to harass you about something, though. I heard it was the new elementary teacher. What did you think?”

Weeks ago, he’d messaged me that I needed to scope out the newcomer. She was his daughter’s teacher. I’d been busy, though, and hadn’t given it any more thought. “She’s beautiful,” I admitted. “Way out of my league.”

Lane folded his arms, staring at me. “Are you serious? You two would be perfect together. Remy loves her. How did she react to your scars?”

Lane never pulled punches. I looked out over the parking lot to the towering mountains beyond, then glanced at the station, making sure there were no looky-loos. “She didn’t flinch once.”

Lane smiled again and nodded his head, backing toward his cruiser. “I’m telling you, Jack, she might be the one for you.”

As he turned the cruiser around, I gave him a half-hearted wave. Still, as I walked into the bay, I caught myself scanning the street outside, half-expecting to see her car again.

Trouble. Bright, soft trouble was what she was. And I already wanted more.

Cameron

A week after the kitten incident, I stood in the firehouse parking lot with a box of construction-paper thank-you cards balanced on my hip. My students had worked all weekend on them, little masterpieces in crayon and glitter glue. The box felt heavier than it was, maybe because I was suddenly very aware of who I might run into inside.

When the kitten incident happened, I hadn’t even thought about the firefighters that were supposed to come in for a fire truck demonstration a few days later. I taught third grade, and the kids loved anything hands on. I’d watched for the chief, but he hadn’t been with the crew. I was disappointed I hadn’t seen him.

The glass bay doors were rolled open to keep the air moving, sunlight pouring over fire engines that gleamed like they had just come off a showroom floor. The air smelled of soap, oil, and a faint trace of smoke that seemed to live in the walls.

“Need a hand with that?”

I looked up to see a smiling firefighter jog toward me, wiping his palms on his pants. His grin was easy, his muscular shoulders loose.

“Lieutenant Ben. Thank you,” I said, passing him the box.

He peered inside and whistled. “That’s a lot of rainbows. And—wait, is that Godzilla fighting a fire?”

I laughed. “That one’s Maddie’s. I think it’s for the big guy that carried the roll of hose.”

“Oh, yeah. We call him Chonk.”

The lieutenant carried the box inside, setting it on a workbench. There were a bunch of men in navy blue inside, working on assorted things. There were also two women winding a hose. When I walked into the building, the chatter of voices dipped for half a second, just enough to notice, then everyone greeted me by name. It was actually very sweet.

Then he appeared.

Chief Butler.

He walked out of an office in a dark navy button-up shirt, a clipboard in one hand. The scar along the side of his face caught the light, and for a second my breath caught with it. I couldn’t imagine the amount of pain that had to have caused. Burning my fingers on a hot pan was enough to make me cry out. I couldn’t imagine what had caused that burn.

He looked exactly as he had a week ago—strong, steady, commanding—but here, surrounded by his crew, the weight of authority sat heavy on him.

His gray eyes found me, steady and unreadable. Did his eyes narrow a bit?