Page 1 of Kissing the Beach Town Fire Chief
Prologue
Ami
The summer I turned ten, something shifted.
I started to realize boys weren’tallbad.
Except Ethan.
Ethan was still a total pain in my butt—my rival, my shadow, my personal tormentor. If I’d had a big brother, I’m sure he would’ve looked at me exactly the way Ethan did—half amused, half exasperated, like I was both a challenge and a puzzle he’d already solved.
Every summer before the accident that took my parents, we lived for these long, salt-soaked days in Seabrook. Ethan and I were beach kids—bare feet on hot sand, sticky fingers from boardwalk ice cream, and a never-ending scoreboard of who could wineverything.
When we were little, he swore he’d grow up to drive a fire truck with the sirens blaring. I swore I’d write the great Americannovel. We both thought the other’s dream was ridiculous. Maybe we were right.
But that day, it was all about the Seabrook Sandcastle Competition.
“Sandcastle competition, huh? Ami, aren’t you a little old for that?” Ethan’s shadow fell over my carefully drawn blueprint.
“And you’re not?” I scooped another fistful of wet sand.
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss the chance to beat you again,Miss Castle Builder.” His grin made me want to hurl a sand bucket at his head.
We built side by side, the beach buzzing around us. My hands were coated in sand, my masterpiece slowly rising, while Ethan’s fortress took shape at an infuriating pace.
My towers wobbled. His stood tall.
The judges smiled at mine. Theyapplaudedhis.
When the head judge handed Ethan the blue ribbon, he didn’t just win—he made sure I knew it.
“Better luck next time,” he murmured.
“You think you’re so great,” I shot back.
He winked. “No. I know I am.”
That was just one ofmanysummers tangled up with Ethan—him winning, me plotting my revenge.
But this summer feels different.
I’m not the ten-year-old girl stomping down the beach in defeat anymore. I’m coming back to Seabrook older, wiser, and ready to give him a run for his money.
The only problem?
He’s still here—smirking like he already knows he’s going to win.
And for once, I’m not sure winning is the point.
Chapter one
Ethan
The blaring siren echoes through the narrow streets of Seabrook as I steer the fire truck around the final corner. My knuckles are tight on the wheel; eyes locked on the thick black smoke billowing into the air. Flames leap and crackle, devouring the sides of the town’s oldest bakery,Seabrook Bakeshop.
“Chief, we’ve got reports of someone still inside,” Kyle’s voice crackles over the radio, urgency pushing through every word. I glance over at him in the passenger seat—wide-eyed, barely keeping it together.
“Got it. Set up a perimeter, clear the surrounding buildings, and get the water line ready. I’m going in,” I say, the decision automatic. At twenty-eight, I’m one of the youngest fire chiefs in the state, but experience keeps me focused when the heat is on. Literally.
