Page 14 of Sizzling Desire

“I’m fine,” I say automatically, taking a sip of my beer.

He raises an eyebrow. “You sure? Because you’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re either pissed off or thinking too much.”

I shake my head, letting out a low laugh. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I?” He sets his beer down, leaning forward. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain maid of honor, would it?”

The question lands like a punch to the gut, and I don’t bother hiding my glare. “What makes you think that?”

“Come on, Kane,” he says, smirking. “You’re not exactly subtle. Every time her name comes up, you get this... look. Like you’re trying to figure out if you want to fight her or?—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I warn, my voice sharper than I intended.

He laughs, holding up his hands in a mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. Whatever’s going on between you two, it’s obvious.”

“There’s nothing going on,” I say firmly, but even as the words leave my mouth, they feel like a lie.

Hudson studies me for a long moment, then leans back, his grin softening into something closer to understanding. “Figure it out, man. Because if you don’t, it’s gonna eat you alive.”

I don’t respond, and after a minute, he stands, clapping me on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow, brother.”

As he leaves, the room feels quieter, heavier. I stare at the table again, my mind replaying that night with Grace for what feels like the hundredth time.

Hudson’s right—this thing between us, whatever it is, isn’t going away.

And the worst part? I’m not sure I want it to.

The porch groans under the weight of my restless pacing. A half-empty beer bottle dangles from my fingers, cold and sweating in the humid night air. The quiet is almost oppressive, pressing down on me as my thoughts churn. I take another pull from the bottle, hoping the bitterness will wash her out of my mind.

It doesn’t.

Grace.

Her name flickers through my head like a spark refusing to die. It’s been a few weeks since that night, but she’s still everywhere. I see her in the shadows cast by the porch light, hear her voice in the low hum of crickets. I’ve tried to shake her—tried to forget the way her body melted against mine, the sound of her breath catching when I kissed her neck—but she’s carved into me now.

I drain the last of the beer and set the bottle on the railing, gripping the edge to steady myself. This isn’t like me. Women don’t get under my skin. I keep things simple—fun, no strings, no regrets. But Grace? She’s anything but simple.

She’s a damn hurricane, tearing through every bit of control I thought I had.

The sharp buzz of my phone yanks me out of my racing thoughts. I fish it out of my pocket, seeing Chance’s name lighting up the screen. A distraction. Perfect.

“Chance,” I answer, myvoice rough.

“Hey, you busy?” he asks, his tone tight.

“Not really,” I say, leaning back against the railing. “What’s up?”

“There’s a fire at an abandoned house over on Pine Street. It’s under control, but it’s... strange. I’ve been called to check it out. Wanna tag along?”

Strange fires. Chance doesn’t use that word lightly, and if he’s calling me, it means there’s something worth looking at. Plus, anything to get Grace out of my damn head.

“Yeah,” I say, already grabbing my keys. “I’m on my way.”

The drive to Pine Street is short, the streets eerily quiet as I pull up to the scene. Flashing lights bathe the surrounding area in red and blue, the acrid stench of smoke lingers in the humid air. My adrenaline kicks up as I spot Chance leaning against his truck, a notepad in hand.

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