Page 1 of The Blaze Between Us

Chapter 1 - Tasha

The late afternoon sun beats down on my shoulders as I stand outside the small rental cabin, jiggling the doorknob for what must be the twentieth time. It remains as immovable as it was during the first nineteen attempts.

"Come on," I mutter, setting down my grocery bags to dig through my purse again. "You can't seriously be lost."

But my key is, in fact, seriously lost. After spending the entire day hiking the trails around Cedar Falls—alone, again—I somehow managed to misplace the single most important item I packed. The universe clearly has a sense of humor.

Two weeks in Cedar Falls, and this is what I have to show for it: sunburned shoulders, a growing resentment toward happy couples, and now, the indignity of being locked out of my rental.

I slump down onto the porch steps, fishing my phone from my back pocket. The screen wallpaper—Ellie and me at our college graduation—stares back at me. My best friend since freshman year of college despite being in different courses, and the one and only reason I'm in Cedar Falls to begin with. The friend who has been mostly busy since I arrived.

"It's not her fault," I remind myself as I pull up her contact.

Ellie didn't plan for Grant to be in love with her as much as she has been in love with him since forever. She didn't intentionally leave me to entertain myself while she experiences the giddy first month of a new relationship.

The phone rings three times before Ellie's breathless voice answers. "Tasha! Hey! How's your day going?"

"Well, I've locked myself out of the cabin, so not great," I reply, leaning back against the porch railing. "Please tell me you have a spare key."

"Oh no! I don't, but..." I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. "Dad does. He keeps spares for all the rental properties in town."

Chief Brock Sullivan. The man I've been inexplicably drawn to since the first time Ellie showed me his photo four years ago. The man whose Facebook page I've definitely not spent hours scrolling through (except I absolutely have).

"Your dad?" I manage to keep my voice casual. "I don't want to bother him. Isn't he working?"

"His shift ended at four today. He's probably just hanging around the house being boring." Ellie laughs. "I'll call him. He can swing by with the key—it'll be faster than me driving back from Grant's place."

"Are you sure?" I ask, even as my heartbeat quickens at the thought of finally meeting Chief Sullivan in person.

"Totally! Give me two minutes to call him."

Before I can protest further, she's gone. I set my phone down and press my palms to my cheeks, which feel uncomfortably warm. This is ridiculous. I'm twenty-two years old, not some teenager with a crush. The fact that I've built up this elaborate fantasy around a man I've never met is embarrassing enough without adding physical symptoms.

My phone buzzes with a text from Ellie: *Dad's on his way. ETA 15 mins. He knows which cabin. Also... behave yourself.??*

I type back: *What's that supposed to mean?*

Her response is immediate: *You know exactly what it means. You've been crushing on my dad since you saw that firefighter calendar photo.*

Heat floods my face. *I have NOT.*

*Please. You literally said, and I quote, "Is your dad single because WOW" the first time you saw his picture.*

I groan out loud. *That was FOUR YEARS ago! I was joking!*

*Sure, sure. Anyway, just be normal. He's my DAD.*

*I'm always normal. I'll be fine.* I hesitate, then add: *You sure he knows I'm your friend from college?*

*Yes, Tasha. He knows who you are. Honestly, you'd think you were meeting a celebrity.*

If she only knew how many times I've imagined this meeting. How many scenarios I've played out in my head. None of them, however, involved me looking like this—sweaty from hiking, hair thrown up in a messy bun, wearing shorts that show off thighs I've never been completely comfortable with and a tank top that clings to curves I've spent most of my life feeling self-conscious about.

I quickly pull my hair from its elastic, running my fingers through the tangled waves in a futile attempt to look presentable. Then I immediately feel foolish and put it back up. I'm not trying to impress anyone. This is my best friend's father, not a date.

The grocery bags at my feet remind me that ice cream is melting while I'm having this internal crisis. I drag them into the shade and try to distract myself by scrolling through Instagram, but my mind keeps wandering back to the man who will soon pull up this driveway.

Brock Sullivan. Forty-four years old. Widowed. Fire chief of Cedar Falls. Bronze Star recipient from his military service. Father to my best friend. The subject of far too many late-night thoughts I shouldn't be having.

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