Page 32 of Kissing the Beach Town Fire Chief
The whole time, I’m thinking about how every day lately feels… different. Brighter, sharper, heavier in my chest.
Ever since those kisses…
“Hey, Ami?”
“Yeah?” she asks, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
She tilts her head. “Nothing. Why?”
I shove my hands in my pockets, trying not to look like I’m holding my breath. “Charity event at the firehouse. I need a date. Interested?”
Her brows lift, confusion sliding into a slow, sly grin. “My, my. Ethan Campbell, are you asking me out?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, grinning back. “You just clean up well. Would be a shame not to show you off.”
She laughs, and I swear my knees almost give. “You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
“So… is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes.”
By the time we reach her porch, we’ve drifted closer without realizing it. Her eyes flick down to my mouth, mine to hers. The air’s charged enough to start a fire.
I want to kiss her—bad—but I take her hand instead, pressing my lips to the back of it.
“Goodnight, Ami.”
I walk away before I change my mind. I fall asleep with her laugh in my head, knowing I’m already in too deep.
The next night, Ami steps out in a deep red gown that fits her like it was made for her. Her hair’s soft around her face, makeup flawless. She’s not just beautiful—she’s breathtaking. And I forget how to breathe. My oldest friend, the girl I used to race bikes with, is suddenly the kind of woman men write bad country songs about. She’s always been beautiful, but tonight? She’s the kind of gorgeous that makes my brain short-circuit.
We banter all the way to the firehouse—about music, pie, and whether my truck counts as “clean” if it’s only been through one car wash this month. Spoiler: she says no. Every time she laughs, I have to force my eyes back to the road.
Inside, the firehouse is buzzing—music, laughter, the smell of barbecue. Ami charms my friends in seconds, like she’s beenpart of the crew forever. Watching her laugh with them is a little surreal… and a lot perfect.
When the crowd starts to thin, I lean close. “Want to get some air?”
She nods, slipping her arm through mine.
Outside, the night’s crisp, the stars spread wide above us. We’re halfway down the block when a sharp, pitiful meow cuts through the quiet.
“Did you hear that?” she asks, scanning the shadows.
We follow the sound to a tree, and sure enough—a tiny kitten’s stranded halfway up, yowling like it’s auditioning for a sad commercial.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Ami says.
“Kittens are curious,” I tell her. “Guess she found out curiosity’s overrated.”
Her eyes find mine. “We have to help her, Ethan.”
Those eyes could get me to do just about anything.
I hand her my coat. “Hold this. And don’t let anyone steal my wallet.”
“Your wallet’s safe. Your dignity if you fall… not so much,” she teases.
