Page 8 of Sizzling Desire

His words hit harder than I want to admit. Because deep down, I know he’s right. What happened between Gracie and me last night wasn’t just a drunken mistake. At least not for me. There’s something more there, something I’ve been ignoring for way too long.

But before I can dwell on it any longer, the alarm bell rings, cutting through the air and sending adrenaline surging through my veins. Hudson immediately snaps into action, grabbing his gear, and I follow suit, grateful for the distraction.

As we load up into the truck, I can’t help but glance at Hudson one last time. His smirk is gone, replaced by the focused, determined expression I’ve seen a hundred times before. But his words from earlier still linger in my mind, echoing in the back of my head.

Hate and something else.

The wail of the sirens echoes in my ears, the usual rush of adrenaline coursing through me as we pull up to the scene. It’s nothing major—just a routine call, smoke coming from adumpster fire next to a small apartment building. We’ve done this a thousand times, and yet, my mind isn’t where it’s supposed to be. Not today.

As I step off the truck and pull on my gear, my thoughts drift back to last night. Gracie. Her name keeps flashing through my mind, like a neon sign I can’t switch off. The taste of her lips, the heat of her skin, the way she looked at me after… like she couldn’t believe what had just happened between us. Hell, I couldn’t believe it either.What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Let’s move!” the captain barks, snapping me back to reality. I grab the hose and head toward the dumpster, the smoke already starting to billow out of the lid. It’s not bad—just some trash that caught fire—but we need to handle it before it spreads. Should be quick and simple, but my focus keeps slipping.

The heat from the flames doesn’t compare to the heat of last night, the way Gracie’s body felt against mine. I push the thoughts away, trying to concentrate, but they cling to me, relentlessly. I can still hear her voice, the way she whispered my name, the way she bolted out the door afterward like she wanted to erase every second of it from her mind.

“Kane!” Hudson’s voice snaps me out of it as we move closer to the dumpster. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but the distraction lingers. My hands are on the hose, but my mind is tangled up in thoughts of Gracie—how I screwed up, how I let her walk away without a word, how I can’t stop thinking about her, even now.

Before I know it, I’ve made a mistake. Nothing huge, but I fumble with the nozzle, and the water pressure isn’t where it’s supposed to be. I correct it too late, a momentary delay that slows us down.

“Dammit, Kane!” Captain Morgan’s voice booms over the noise, sharp and cutting. “Pay attention!”

I curse under my breath, my face flushing with embarrassment. I know better. My mind should be here, not on Gracie, not on the heat between us that’s still burning through my thoughts.

We manage to contain the fire, but as we head away from the building, the captain pulls me aside, his expression hard as stone. “What the hell was that back there?”

“I—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“You’re better than that, Mitchell,” he snaps, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know where your head’s at, but it sure as hell isn’t on the job.”

I grit my teeth, nodding. He’s right. I screwed up, and I know it. “It won’t happen again, sir.”

He studies me for a moment, then nods. “Make sure it doesn’t.”

As he walks off, I let out a long breath, the weight of my mistake settling in. I know I should let it go, put it behind me and move on. But the truth is, I can’t. Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about her and about the way she made me feel last night.

I stare at the blackened dumpster, my jaw tight. Whatever this is with Gracie, I need to figure it out before it costs me more than just a reprimand. Because I can’t afford to keep making mistakes. Not in this job.

The day’s rhythm is finally starting to settle when my phone buzzes in my pocket, dragging me out of my momentary peace. The number on the screen is unfamiliar, but I pick up anyway, half-expecting a spam call.

“Kane Mitchell,” I answer, my tone casual.

“Kane, it’s Chance,” a familiar voice greets me, andI straighten in my seat. Chance Carter. Last I heard, he was neck-deep in arson training, prepping to ace his state exam.

“Well, if it isn’t the golden boy. What’s up, man? You finally coming back to grace us with your presence?” I ask, letting a smirk creep into my voice.

“Sooner than you think,” he says, a heaviness in his tone that puts me on edge. “I passed the exam early, thanks to my instructors, and they’re sending me back home. Guess there’s enough suspicious activity in Hibiscus Harbor to justify it.”

“Suspicious activity?” I lean forward; my interest piqued. “What’s going on?”

“A string of fires,” Chance explains, his voice losing the casual edge. “Dumpster fires, a warehouse blaze in Cedar Grove, and just yesterday, another yacht went up in flames down in Pelican Point. All of them are starting to look less accidental and more intentional.”

My stomach tightens. “Intentional? You think we’ve got a firebug?”

“Yeah,” Chance replies, his voice grim. “It’s not confirmed, but it’s not looking good. Captain Morgan’s letting me take the lead on piecing it together, though he’s still skeptical. He’s old-school, but he knows his stuff.”

I nod, already feeling the shift in the air. Fires like this don’t just happen, especially not around here. “And the yacht fire from last year? The one at the country club—what’s the deal there?”

“That’s the thing,” Chance says. “At first, it was written off as faulty wiring, but now? With these new fires popping up and all the accelerant traces we’ve found... I think it was deliberate too.”

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