Page 6 of Let it Sizzle
It wasn’t him.
Chapter 2
Levi
BBQ days are usually my favorite.
Firehouse lot full of food, smoke from the grill curling into the sky, music playing low from someone’s Bluetooth speaker, and the sound of Maddox running his mouth about who makes the best ribs. It’s tradition. It’s messy and loud and good for morale.
But today? I’m restless as hell. Because I know she’s coming.
Serena Summers is back in Silvertown Hollow. And I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked standing in aisle three of Murphy’s Grocery like a damn fever dream in a pair of jeans that made my pulse spike and a pair of soft pink lips I couldn’t stop staring at. And fuck, those curves in all the right fucking places.
I’ve been playing it cool. Or trying to.
“Yo, Chief!” Maddox calls, flipping a burger one-handed while waving a spatula like a mic. “We doubling up the jalapeños or are you scared your old man stomach can’t handle the heat?”
I shake my head and grunt, tossing a pack of buns on the folding table. “You’re the one who cried last year, not me.”
Zeke smirks from the corner where he’s slicing tomatoes with surgical precision. “He did. Eyes red and everything. Said it was allergies.”
Maddox throws his hands up. “I was emotionally overwhelmed. It happens.”
Byron chuckles, leaning back in a plastic chair with his arms crossed over his chest, watching all of us like he’s half-amused, half ready to throw hands if someone looks at the grill wrong. The guy’s a solid wall of intensity, but he’s family.
They all are.
But even in the middle of our usual banter, I can’t focus. I’m watching the road. Every time a car door slams, my head snaps up. I keep telling myself it’s not a big deal. She’s Byron’s sister. I’ve known her since we were kids. But that’s the problem.
I’ve known her since I was a dumb teenage boy who didn’t understand what it meant to want toprotectsomething. Not just her body, but her spirit. Her softness. Her stubborn strength. And then she left and I wasn’t sure if she ever did feel the same.
But now she’s grown. Into a woman. One with curves that make my blood run hot and eyes that still hold too much sadness.
And I want her. I want her in a way I shouldn’t.
“You all right?” Byron asks, eyeing me as he cracks open a soda. “You quieter than usual.”
I force a shrug. “Just tired. Didn’t sleep much.”
“Thinking about that damn station remodel again?” Byron asks, gesturing toward the half-covered fundraiser board leaning against the wall.
I grunt, noncommittal. “We’ll raise enough eventually. Not losing sleep over it.”
Which is a lie. Iamlosing sleep. Just not over drywall or budget approvals.
He checks his watch and frowns. “She should’ve been here by now.”
“Who?” I ask, feigning distraction as I stack some plates, figuring he’s talking about one of his on-again, off-again flings from the diner.
“Serena.”
Her name hits like a sucker punch to the ribs. My chest goes tight, but I don’t let it show.
“Oh,” I say casually. “I actually ran into her at Murphy’s the other day.”
Byron raises a brow, intrigued. “Yeah? How’d she seem?”
“Good,” I lie, though my brain’s still replaying the exact curve of her mouth when she smiled. “Wasn’t expecting to see her, but… it was a nice surprise.”
