Page 34 of Kissing the Beach Town Fire Chief
“More than teammates,” I admit softly. “If we’d ever formed an alliance as kids, nobody would’ve stood a chance.”
His mouth tips in a way that sends my pulse skipping. “Speaking of alliances… want to build one together? No rivalry this time.”
I arch a brow. “I would love to. Just once more.”
“Stay here.” He strides off to the judges, working that charm of his until they’re nodding and smiling. When he comes back, victory gleams in his eyes. “We’re in. Not officially competing but making a ‘motivation piece’ to inspire the kids.”
“You charmed them, didn’t you?”
“Obviously.”
We find a perfect spot, our footsteps side by side in the damp sand. He borrows tools with that easy confidence that’s always gotten him what he wants—and then we’re working, our hands brushing more than necessary.
Ethan suggests building the history of Seabrook—past and present—in sand. I love the idea instantly. We work without thinking, laughter and conversation flowing like the tide. Tiny cottages, the lighthouse, busy cafés… it all rises under our fingertips.
At some point, his shoulder bumps mine, and neither of us moves away. The heat from the sun has nothing on the warmth building between us. He leans in to point at a detail on my side of the castle, his arm brushing mine, his voice low and close enough to stir every nerve.
When we step back to admire our finished masterpiece, we’re both grinning. I glance up at him to say something, but the look in his eyes stills the words on my tongue.
It’s that same look he used to give me before declaring he was going to win—only now, it’s softer. Warmer.
And then, before I can overthink it, I come up on my toes and kiss him.
It’s not hurried or overly dramatic, just warm and steady, tasting faintly of salt and sun. A kiss that feels like years of rivalry melting into something entirely different.
When we pull back, his forehead rests against mine, his voice a low murmur. “Guess we finally settled the score.”
And for once, I don’t care who won.
Chapter eighteen
Ethan
I shouldn’t be surprised that our sandcastle draws a crowd, but the way people stop to admire it still makes me grin. Ami and I hang back, watching strangers point out the carved windows, the perfect towers, the ridiculous moat we somehow pulled off in record time. Even I can’t quite believe we made something this good in just a few hours. It’s not just the best sandcastle I’ve ever built—it’s the bestwe’veever built.
But then again, when Ami and I team up, the odds don’t stand a chance.
It’s strange—how you can know someone for years and still miss the quiet ways they matter to you. For the longest time, Ami was the stubborn, sharp-tongued girl who blew into town each summer and made it her personal mission to drive me nuts. Now she’s... breathtaking. Inspiring. The kind of woman who makes my heart trip over itself without even trying.
Compliments keep rolling in, and Ami takes each one with a smile that could light up the whole shoreline. “Looks like we’vepeaked,” I say as we step away from the judges’ table. “No point in ever trying again. Retire now while we’re ahead.”
She snorts. “Peaked? Please. You know I carried this whole build.” I glance at her. “You carried the buckets. That’s not the same thing as carrying the team.”
“Without water, your precious moat would be a sad ditch.” She smirks, chin tipped up in mock defiance.
“And without my architectural genius, your water would’ve been puddles in the sand.”
We’re still bickering when we spot two kids glaring at each other over their lopsided castle. Ami’s laughter bursts out bright and easy, and I can’t help joining, it’s like watching our younger selves in miniature.
By the time the sun begins to sink, the crowd thins, leaving only the hush of waves and the soft cries of gulls. We walk barefoot along the waterline, the cool tide curling over our feet, until we drop down where the surf just kisses the sand.
“That was fun,” Ami says, brushing a bit of seaweed off her knee.
“It was,” I agree, watching her instead of the horizon. “Even if your moat skills are overrated.”
Her mouth falls open in fake outrage. “Overrated? You’re lucky I don’t push you into the water right now.”
I grin. “If it means you’ll jump in after me, I’ll take my chances.”
