Page 14 of Let it Sizzle
She laughs, and damn if that sound doesn’t go straight to my chest.
“And you’re the one in charge of all that chaos?” she teases.
“Yep. Fire Chief Mercer, at your service.”
“Wow,” she says, eyes wide and playful. “Didn’t think the kid who had to be pulled out of a burning kitchen would end up in charge.”
I grin. “Hey, I told you back then—this was what I wanted to always do, since the firemen rescued us that day.”
“I remember,” she says softly, the teasing fading just a little. “You said the fire that day at the amusement park was yourwake-up call. That it was your way of changing the world. I really do respect that.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “But becoming chief? That’s when it really clicked into place for me.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flush before she looks away, and damn if that doesn’t make my cock twitch in my jeans.
I clear my throat, leaning in a little, dropping my voice just to see if I can make her laugh again. "Although, gotta admit—being fire chief has some downsides too."
She lifts a brow. "Yeah? Like what?"
I lower my voice even more, like it’s a state secret. "Maddox keeps trying to get me to approve a calendar. 'Silvertown’s Hottest Firefighters.' He even pitched a slogan—‘Big hearts, bigger hoses.’”
She laughs, and it does something to me. Tightens something low and hot in my gut.
I open my mouth to tell her more, but just then, a guy with a guitar sets up at the next table over, strumming chords loud enough to rattle the silverware. The quiet intimacy we had dissolves under the sudden wave of noise.
I don’t even think about it. I stand, walk around the table, and sit down right next to her like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Close enough that my thigh brushes hers. Close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off her skin. She stiffens a little in surprise, but she doesn’t move away. Not even an inch.
I reach for her plate casually, sliding it a little closer to her, my hand brushing along the inside of her thigh under the table.
Slow. Deliberate. Just enough pressure to make her breath catch.
God, she’s warm and soft. And when I glance sideways at her, she’s biting her lip, her whole body tense like she’s fighting not to lean in closer.
I lower my voice so it’s just for her. "Easier to hear you like this."
She swallows hard, and nods like she can’t find her voice.
I could tell her it’s just about the noise, but we both know it’s a lie. I’m right where I want to be.
I keep my hand resting lightly on her thigh, stroking slow, absent circles with my thumb like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And the way she squirms, the way she fidgets with her fork and keeps sneaking glances at me from under those long lashes?
Yeah.
I know she feels it too.
I can't stop touching her. Can't stoplookingat her. Like if I blink too long, she might vanish again. Like those missing years might swallow her up and leave me standing here, wondering if I dreamed her up in the first place.
"You know," I say, my thumb tracing lazy circles against the back of her hand, "the town never felt the same after you left."
Her head lifts, surprise flashing across her face.
I nod, holding her gaze. "Places were still here. People too. But it was like someone turned down the color. Nothing felt right without you in it."
Her mouth parts slightly, like she wants to say something but doesn't know how. Her fingers twitch in mine, but she doesn't pull away.
"You didn’t just leave a house behind, Serena," I murmur. "You left a hole."
The air between us thickens, humming with something raw and electric. The waiter drops our plates off, but I barely notice. My whole world is this table. This girl. This second.
