Page 2 of His Big Holiday Firefighter
“Hours ended at five, young man,” she said, not pausing as she gathered her belongings.
I checked my watch again. “It’s four fifty-eight.”
“Clock says five.” She pointed to the wall clock, which definitely showed four fifty-eight.
“Oh, come on, Mrs. Henderson,” Noah said, stepping up beside me. The aroma of wood smoke and cinnamon followed him, making my mouth water, much to my annoyance. “It’s Christmas. And you know you want to try our cookies. Especially James’—he’s a famous pastry chef now, you know.”
Mrs. Henderson’s stern expression wavered as she looked at Noah, then at me. “Two minutes,” she said finally, her eyes assessing us both. “Forms and fees, quick like bunnies. Though I remember when you were just a little bunny yourself, James Lee.”
We handed over our paperwork and checks. Noah chatted easily with Mrs. Henderson while I tried not to notice how the firefighter’s jeans fit him, or the way his laugh seemed to warm the entire room.
“There,” Mrs. Henderson said, stamping both forms with dramatic flair. “Partners will be announced at tonight’s town meeting. Don’t be late.”
I frowned. “Partners? What partners?”
“Didn’t you read the rules? It’s a paired competition this year. Teams of two.” She smiled sweetly. “Merry Christmas!”
She quickly gathered her things and ushered us outside. I stood frozen as Mrs. Henderson locked up, Noah’s quiet chuckle beside me only adding to my horror. I’d flown in to enter my grandmother’s famous cookie recipe in the competition she’d won five years running, not to be paired with some random home baker who probably thought box mix was acceptable.
“See you tonight, James,” Noah said. “Try the laundromat on Oak for the sweater. They do great work with coffee stains. I’ll handle the bill. After all, I’m the reason we met like this.” He paused, snowflakes catching in his hair. “And welcome home.”
I watched him walk away, those broad shoulders moving easily under the hoodie, and felt a traitorous flutter in my stomach.
One week. I just had to get through the next few days, and I could go back to my real life, where things made sense and attractive firefighters didn’t ruin my expensive sweaters.
CHAPTER TWO
I arrivedat the town meeting twenty minutes early, hoping to secure a seat near the exit.
Instead, I was ambushed by memories the second I walked into the community center. The same ancient folding chairs were arranged in neat rows. The same punch bowl sat on a card table by the door. And the same construction paper snowflakes—probably made by the same third-grade class—hung from the ceiling. The air smelled of pine garlands and sugar cookies, exactly as it had every December of my childhood.
“James Lee!” A plump woman in a reindeer sweater waved enthusiastically from near the refreshment table, nearly spilling her cup of punch. “I was just telling everyone how much we’ve missed your grandmother’s almond cookies at the hospital bake sale. No one else gets that perfect marzipan-to-cookie ratio.”
I managed a polite smile, recognizing my mother’s old friend from the pharmacy. “Mrs. Wu. Nice to see you.”
“Such a shame about the bakery being closed. My Arthur says the whole town feels different without those morning smells of fresh bread. You know, just the other day?—”
“James!” Noah’s deep voice cut through the growing crowd, and my stomach did that annoying flip again. The firefighter waswearing a soft-looking forest green sweater that clung to flexing muscles as he waved me over. “I saved you a seat.”
I hesitated, but Mrs. Wu was already launching into a story about her arthritis and how Nai Nai’s ginger cookies used to help. I chose the lesser evil, excused myself, and escaped to where Noah sat in the middle row, conspicuously flanked by empty chairs.
“Thought you might need rescuing,” Noah said with a grin. “Mrs. Wu can talk for hours. Though she’s not wrong about those ginger cookies.”
“I didn’t need rescuing,” I replied, sitting with precise movements and trying to ignore how good Noah smelled. Ugh, what was it about this guy and why was I suddenly so obsessed? “I was being polite.”
“Right. That’s exactly what your face was saying.” His shoulder brushed mine as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, any thoughts on who you want for a partner?”
I stiffened, both at the question and at the way his proximity made my pulse jump. “I wasn’t planning on needing one. Is there a way to compete solo?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Noah’s breath was warm near my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “Besides, some of the best things happen by accident. Like your grandmother’s famous snickerdoodles—didn’t she tell you about the time she mixed up the cinnamon and?—”
“The nutmeg,” I finished, surprised. “How did you know that story?”
“She used to tell it whenever anyone complimented them. Which was often.” Noah’s smile turned softer, more personal. “She was proud of that mistake. Said sometimes the best recipes come from being willing to try something new.”
Before I could respond, or process the way Noah’s gentle tone made something warm unfurl in my chest, Mayor Thompson took the podium at the front of the room, her red blazer festive against the tinsel backdrop. “Welcome, everyone! I’m so excited to announce this year’s paired teams for our Annual Christmas Cookie Competition!”
My phone buzzed. Another message from Sarah:Buyer wants to view property tomorrow. Very motivated.
