All Fired Up (Hometown Heat 1)

“Exactly.” She sighs. “But we’ll probably get more work done, be less distracted, and dumb stuff like that.”

I laugh beneath my breath. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about getting work done.”

“Work is overrated.” She tips her head back, smiling up at me. “I’d rather spend my time lurking by the window, hoping for a glance of the red-hot firefighter across the street.”

“The red-hot firefighter across the street likes that, too.” I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, earning myself a coat of lip gloss in the process.

As we pull back, Naomi looks up and giggles. “When I saw you in this tux, I was positive you couldn’t get any sexier, but you look good in red berry lip gloss. It brings out the sparkly bits in your eyes.”

I grunt. “Good. Then I’ll leave it on. I was going to go grab cookies and napkins while you check the coats, but—”

“No! Yes! Go! Do that. Grab napkins and cookies. Or at least the cookies.” She snatches the coats draped over my arm and drapes them over hers. “Grab as many of Maddie’s caramel ones as you can without looking tacky before everyone else snatches them up. I’m serious about eating all the cookies until New Year’s Day.”

“Good. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you should go on a diet. You look perfect the way you are.”

She shoots me a mock glare. “Is dating you going to be bad for my waistline?”

“No way.” I kiss her forehead before adding in a softer voice, “Because we’ll be working off those calories in the bedroom every chance we get.”

She hums low in her throat as she gives my bicep a squeeze. “Go. Now. Before I drag you out to the truck and have my wicked way with you.”

I smile. “I’m okay with being dragged out to the truck.”

She laughs as she puts a hand to my chest and pushes me gently away. “No way, psycho. It’s freezing out there. Go get cookies. I’ll meet you by the fireplace in ten minutes.”

With a discreet goodbye pat on her bottom, I turn to go, threading my way through the crowd, managing to get stopped only twice—once for a hug from Mrs. Keller, my kindergarten teacher, and once to shoot Neil Simpson a mean look as he presents Faith with a glass of cider.

Still, by the time I reach the refreshment table, all of Maddie’s cookies are gone.

“Well, shit,” I mumble, studying the remaining plates, wondering what Naomi would like second best.

I’m about to go for finger-shaped cookies coated in powdered sugar with a placard that proclaims them to be filled with almonds and orange liqueur—two things I know Naomi loves—when Jamison appears beside me, his increasingly familiar scowl firmly in place.

I resist the urge to curse or pretend I don’t see him and bolt for the other side of the room.

Jamison doesn’t seem to be getting used to the idea of Naomi and me being a thing the way I’d hoped. If anything, he’s becoming increasingly, irrationally irritable.

“I just talked to Faith,” he says, propping his hands on his hips, looking ready for combat, even in a tux.

“Is she okay?” I glance back to where I saw Faith last, but I can’t spot her in the crowd. “Do we need to go intervene with that Simpson prick?”

“No, I need to intervene. With you.” He rolls his shoulders and tugs at his tux coat, which looks to be at least a size too small, making me grateful Naomi went with me when I picked out my jacket and encouraged me to go up a size.

“Faith told me what you’re planning to do tonight,” he continues. “That you’re going to propose.”

I nod and fight a wave of irritation. To hear my brother talk, you’d think I was planning to fill my well with strychnine and invite a bunch of orphans over for lemonade.

“Well, we need to talk first,” he says, the muscle in his clenched jaw twitching. “I’ve been putting it off because I didn’t want to face it, and I didn’t want to piss you off, but…” He exhales. “This has to happen. Now.”

“All right,” I say, my stomach pitching and cookies suddenly not sounding nearly as tempting. “Let’s step outside.”

He nods tightly before turning and heading for a side door not far from the refreshment table. I cast one last look over my shoulder—spying Naomi still in line for the coat check and in deep conversation with Aria—before I follow Jamison out into the brisk winter air, doing my best to ignore the anxious feeling tickling the back of my throat.

No matter what Jamison wants to talk about, it isn’t going to change my mind.

Or my heart.

I’m in love, and I’m going to ask the woman I can’t imagine living without to marry me tonight. I’m going all in on happiness, fresh starts, and amazing new beginnings.