Page 8 of Ignited By My Mate

She nods. "Looking forward to it."

And just like that, I’m walking back to my truck with a grin that refuses to fade.

I don’t head home. Not yet. I steer the truck toward the firehouse instead. It’s mostly quiet this time of day—everyone’s between shifts or grabbing lunch—but I find Logan and Ridge out back, checking over one of the trucks.

Logan’s the first to look up. "You look like someone just gave you a winning lottery ticket."

"Something like that," I reply, hopping out of the truck.

Ridge straightens and narrows his eyes. "Why do I feel like this has something to do with that tourist you were making eyes at in the diner earlier?"

I run a hand through my hair, unable to stop the stupid smile. "She’s my mate."

Logan lets out a low whistle. "No shit."

"No shit," I echo, still trying to wrap my head around it. "Her name is Lark. She came here for a vacation, but her rental burned in that Everpine fire. She didn’t even know until she showed up today."

Ridge groans. "Figures. Those places were already falling apart."

"I put her up in Randy’s cabin."

"The one near your place?" Logan asks.

I nod. "It’s empty, and I couldn’t let her sleep in her car."

Ridge crosses his arms. "You tell her she’s your mate yet?"

"No. I don’t want to scare her off. She’s only here for a week. I’ve got to be careful. But… I need her to feel it, too."

Logan claps me on the back. "You’ve got that look in your eyes, man. Like the universe finally handed you a break."

"Let’s hope she sees it that way."

We fall into a comfortable silence until Logan asks, "Did you smell it? The edge of something… off?"

I nod slowly. "Red Fog. They’re circling again. I caught a trace near the fire line."

Ridge curses. "Figures. Just when things were starting to settle."

"I don’t want Lark near any of that. Not until I figure out what they’re doing back here."

Logan nods. "We’ve got your back. We’ll keep an eye out."

"Thanks."

Back home, I throw on a clean shirt and set the kitchen to rights. I can’t cook like my sister, but I’ve got a decent hand with the grill, and I picked up fresh vegetables at the market yesterday.

I prep everything for dinner before showering, the hot water doing little to douse the nerves crawling up my spine.

I’ve waited so long for this.

Lark has no idea what she means to me. Not yet.

But I’ll show her.

Every damn day until she sees it too.

By the time I drive back to the cabin, the sun is slipping behind the trees, casting golden light across the clearing. I knock on the door, and Lark opens it, barefoot and glowing, her sundress fluttering in the breeze.

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