Page 42 of Kissing the Beach Town Fire Chief
Scanning the audience again, my gaze finds Aunt Maggie. This time, she’s not just watching. She’s meeting my eyes. There’s no smile, but the look she gives me isn’t cold. It’s… considering.
When Ethan delivers his closing line—“Seabrook’s future depends on remembering its heart”—her gaze moves between him and me, as though weighing something she’s not ready to say.
It’s not forgiveness, not yet. But it’s not the wall I’ve been slamming into for weeks, either. There’s a flicker there.
Curiosity.
Consideration.
Maybe even the first crack in the barrier between us.
And as the crowd surges to its feet, cheering for Ethan, his fingers tighten around mine. For a moment, the noise fades, and all I’m aware of is the heat of his hand, the steadiness of his presence, and the quiet hope blooming in my chest.
Maybe tonight planted more than just seeds for the election.
Maybe it planted the seed for something far more personal.
Chapter twenty-three
Ethan
The morning feels different. There’s still a lingering buzz from yesterday’s historical reenactment — that electric energy that hums in the air when something has truly touched the heart of the community. People are still talking about it in the coffee shop, on the sidewalks, in front of the post office.
But there’s something else thrumming under my skin. The town elders have called a special meeting today — their idea, not mine — and they’ve specifically asked me to bring Ami.
That alone makes me grin as I head up her walkway. She has no idea how much they want to recognize her.
It still floors me, how her idea turned everything around. I’d given speeches, shaken every hand in Seabrook, and worn out my voice talking about my vision for the town… but none of it moved people the way her play did. It wasn’t just clever — it was heartfelt. It reminded people of who we are and what we could still be.
I knock once, and before I can even step back, the door swings open.
And there she is.
Dark gray button-down tucked into crisp white pants, hair brushed into soft waves, eyes bright but a little unsure. My first thought is that she looks like she belongs on the cover of some lifestyle magazine. My second is that she’s about to knock the elders flat with her brilliance — and I’m going to have the best seat in the house.
“Always ready,” I tease, letting my gaze sweep over her with deliberate appreciation.
She quirks an eyebrow. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Not my fault,” I say with a mock shrug. “You look good enough to make a man forget his manners.”
The faintest pink blooms in her cheeks. “Do I look okay for the occasion? Too dressed up? Too casual? I can’t decide—”
“Perfect,” I cut in, my voice low and certain. I step closer and rest my hands on her arms, feeling the warmth of her skin under the light fabric. “You’re going to be fine.”
Her lips curve slowly into that smile that does dangerous things to me. Before I can talk myself out of it, I dip down and press my lips to hers — just a quick kiss, enough to feel her soft inhale against me.
She blinks up at me, startled, her blush deepening.
“I mean it, Ami,” I tell her, letting my voice drop to that place where it’s just for her. “You’ve been my anchor through all of this. You can count on me, always.”
Her mouth quirks. “Stop thanking me. I’m doing what I’d want anyone to do for the town. I’m here because I care about Seabrook, Ethan.”
My eyes go wide, playing it up. “So… you’re not here because you care about me?”
She freezes, eyes darting up to mine. “That’s not what I—”
“Ah, so you do care about me,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.
