Page 18 of Falling for the Bad Boy Firefighter
"I want everything. With you."
A single tear slips down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb. "Too much?" I ask, trying for a lightness I don't feel.
She shakes her head. "Perfect. You're perfect."
I can't help the short laugh that escapes me. "I'm really, really not."
"Perfect for me," she clarifies, rising on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to my lips. "That's all that matters."
Something settles in my chest—a weight I didn't know I was carrying suddenly lifted. I pull her closer, the sheet between us doing little to hide the curves I spent hours worshipping last night.
"So what now, Ms. Clark?" I murmur against her hair. "The town's talking. Your family will be scandalized. My reputation is rubbing off on you as we speak."
She pulls back to look at me, and the mischief in her eyes makes my heart stutter. "Well, Mr. Walker, since my reputation is already in tatters, we might as well make it worth the scandal."
Her meaning is clear as the sheet slips lower, revealing the soft swell of her breasts. I groan, lifting her effortlessly against me. "You're a bad influence, Penelope Clark."
Her laugh is bright as she wraps her legs around my waist. "Says the town bad boy."
"Former town bad boy," I correct, carrying her back toward the bedroom. "I think I'm reforming."
"Don't reform too much," she whispers against my lips. "I quite like the parts of you that aren't entirely proper."
As I lay her back on the bed, watching the morning light play across her skin, I'm struck by the certainty that this—us—is the beginning of something neither of us expected but both of us needed.
Fox Ridge will talk. They always do. But for the first time in my life, I don't give a damn what they say. I've spent years trying to outrun my name, to prove I'm more than just another Walker disaster waiting to happen.
But Penny—bright, stubborn, beautiful Penny—doesn't need me to be anything other than exactly who I am.
And maybe that's the biggest revelation of all—that love isn't about becoming someone new. It's about finding the person who sees you, completely, and chooses you anyway.
As Penny pulls me down to her, her smile warm against my lips, I make a silent promise—to her, to myself, to whatever future we're building together:
I choose you too. Today. Tomorrow. Always.
Epilogue – Penny
Two Years Later
The annual Fire Department appreciation dinner has transformed the normally utilitarian space into something almost elegant. String lights crisscross the ceiling, tables covered in red cloths dot the periphery, and children dart between adults' legs with paper fire hats perched on their heads.
My gaze drifts across the room, settling on the figure that still, after all this time, makes my heart skip a beat.
Jax stands tall among his colleagues, a half-smile playing on his lips as he listens to Chief Mason. He's wearing his dress uniform—the navy fabric stretched across his broad shoulders, silver buttons gleaming. His hair is shorter now, but the same rebellious lock still falls across his forehead when he laughs. There's an ease to him that wasn't there before, a comfort in his own skin that makes him even more magnetic.
As if sensing my attention, he glances up, our eyes meeting across the crowded room. The corner of his mouth lifts in that smile he saves just for me—soft around the edges, warm with promises kept.
Two years ago, I was Penny Clark, curator of the Historical Society, keeper of rules and traditions. I lived my life in neat, organized boxes, afraid to step outside the lines the town had drawn for me.
Then came Jax Walker, with his tattoos and his scowls and his heart bigger than anyone gave him credit for. He didn't just step outside those lines—he erased them completely.
Jax excuses himself from his conversation and makes his way toward me, nodding to people as he passes. The reactions still amaze me sometimes—respectful nods, genuine smiles, even a high-five. The whispers still follow him occasionally, but they're different now. "That Walker boy finally found his place," they say.
When he reaches me, Jax doesn't hesitate. His hand cups my cheek, thumb tracing my cheekbone with a gentleness that belies his strength. Then he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my lips that makes me forget we're in a room full of people.
"Missed you." he murmurs against my mouth, the endearment no longer teasing but tender.
I smile up at him, my hand resting on his chest where I can feel his steady heartbeat. "I was only getting punch."
