Merriment and Mayhem (Under the Mistletoe collection)

Chapter Three

M iller was first to spot her, greeting her from inside the open doorway of the firehouse with a lopsided smile.

“Dangerfield!” He tossed the towel he was using to dry the bumper of the shiny red fire truck over his shoulder. “What brings you by on this fine afternoon?”

Eyes scanning the firehouse, hoping to spot a particular firefighter, Everleigh lifted the wicker basket off her arm. “I come bearing cookies, actually. And this batch isn’t burned. Promise.”

Miller took the basket from her and peeked inside, pulling out an oatmeal raisin cookie that he promptly shoved in his mouth. “A little char never hurt anybody.” Crumbs fell onto his shirt and the floor. “They don’t call us smoke eaters for nothing.” With his mouth full, it sounded like nuffin , and she had to stifle a laugh.

“Cookies?” A stocky man with curly blond hair poked his head around the side of the fire truck. “Someone mentioned cookies, right?”

Miller jerked a thumb at her. “Dangerfield brought us sustenance.”

She waved. “Hi. I’m Everleigh.”

A wide smile crossed the man’s face. “So this is the famous Trouble we’ve all heard so much about.”

Famous? Sure. “More like infamous , I’m guessing.”

“Nah.” He chuckled, eyes flitting over her shoulder. “Brantley won’t shut up about you. This whole week, it’s been nothing but Trouble this and Trouble that —”

“Hey! Aren’t you on dish duty tonight, Boyd?”

Everleigh’s pulse quickened and her breath made an audible catch in the back of her throat that she prayed Miller couldn’t hear over the sound of his chewing. She bit down on a smile and turned, watching as Griffin jogged down the stairs, eating up the firehouse floor with his long stride. His eyes crinkled and the corners of his mouth curled. “Don’t tell me you’re bringing the emergencies straight to us now, Trouble.”

“Ha ha.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not quite.” She gestured to the basket of cookies Miller was doing a number on. “I brought cookies, if Miller decides to share.”

“Come on, man.” Boyd reached for a cookie, and Miller smacked the back of his hand before taking off, Boyd hot on his heels. The sound of their laughter echoed through the firehouse.

“Were those oatmeal?” At her nod, Griffin hummed. “Well, would you look at that. Oatmeal happens to be my favorite. Seems a lot like—”

“If the next word out of your mouth is fate , so help me God ...” Everleigh laughed. “That’s what most people would call a coincidence.”

He shrugged. “Coincidence, fate. I don’t really care what you call it.” One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk. “I think it’s awfully interesting that I was just thinking about you, and lo and behold, you appear.”

Thinking about her, huh? “Not to poke holes in your theory, but I’d have been here sooner had it not been until this morning that the new oven was delivered. The cookies are a thank-you.”

“You realize responding to emergencies is our job, right? You don’t have to thank us for it. Though”—he grinned—“you’d be hard pressed to hear any of us say no to baked goods.”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” she said, placing a hand over the tender ache inside her chest that bloomed each time she thought about what he’d done. “The lights, Griffin. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, that.” He shrugged as if it were nothing, when it meant everything . And he probably didn’t even realize it. “You needed a ladder; we had a ladder. You didn’t have to thank us.”

As if it weren’t his idea. As if it weren’t him she was here to thank. As if Everleigh weren’t tempted to press him up against the engine and show him exactly how grateful she was. “Well, I wanted to. So here I am.”

“You want to know what I think?” His front teeth scraped against his bottom lip, leaving his mouth red and distractingly kissable. “I think you came here today because you wanted an excuse to see me.”

Everleigh’s heart stuttered and sped. “Maybe I did.”

Maybe it made her a reckless idiot, but after what felt like an endless winter spent frozen by ... by fear , Griffin’s warmth had been the first thing to make her feel alive and happy.

He ducked his head, smiling down at his feet, looking supremely pleased. “So.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re in town for the month.”

“I am.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but Christmas is in a couple weeks.”

“ No. ” Everleigh gasped theatrically. “I had no idea.”

Griffin chuckled and the sound sent a shiver down her spine, warmth blossoming inside her chest. “You got family coming to town?”

The question Everleigh dreaded most, the one that never failed to put an ache in the back of her throat. “Uh, no. It’s just me and my older brother now, and he and his wife live in upstate New York. She’s got a big family up there.”

Nieces and nephews and so many cousins she couldn’t believe anyone could remember everyone’s names. The kind of family you saw in movies and on TV, the kind Everleigh had always wanted. And yet, twice she’d taken her brother up on his offer to fly out and join them, and each time, she’d felt lonelier in a room full of people she was tangentially related to than she had when she spent the holiday by herself, eating Chinese takeout and watching Home Alone .

Her brother had a lovely family, but it wasn’t hers.

Griffin frowned. “You’re spending Christmas alone?”

She shrugged. Frank and Gloria had invited her over for dinner on the twenty-fourth. As much as she wanted to take them up on their offer, she didn’t want to intrude.

“Yeah, no.” Griffin gave a short, sharp shake of his head. “Absolutely not. That’s not happening.”

Everleigh balked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He folded his arms across his chest and steeled his jaw. “Christmas is the one time of the year no one should be alone.”

“All right, Cindy Lou Who.” Everleigh laughed. “Look, it won’t be the first Christmas I’ve spent alone.”

Freshman year of college, she’d spent Christmas by herself in the dorms, the loss of her parents too raw to fathom the idea of celebrating anything. Then there’d been a couple of years after college when she’d been working at a firm, rather than as a freelancer, and had had to work the day after Christmas, making the trek to Port Angeles unfeasible. So this was hardly her first holiday season spent alone, and in all likelihood, it wouldn’t be her last.

His frown deepened, and Everleigh had the strangest urge to smooth away the faint lines etched between his brows with her fingertips. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t.”

It wasn’t meant to make him feel anything at all. “I will be fine. Seriously.”

What was it with everyone in this town worrying about her? Not that it wasn’t nice, but it was new.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” His voice picked up a gruff, authoritative edge that made her instantly flustered. “You heard of Deck Out the Docks?”

She racked her brain and vaguely remembered spotting a flyer posted up near the Vietnamese restaurant off Front Street. “I ... I guess? It’s a boat-decorating contest, right?”

“Mm-hmm. And Captain Keegan happens to live on a houseboat. Every year, she and her girls go all out with the decorating, and those of us who aren’t scheduled for a shift like to show up to show our support. A lot of local businesses set up booths, and the bakery off First Street always gives out free cocoa.”

Everleigh smiled. “That sounds like fun.”

“Good. Because you’re coming.”

“Oh, I am, am I?”

“Mm-hmm.” All it took was one measured step, and the toes of his heavy-duty boots bumped her sneakers. He lifted his right foot to rest on the rear step of the engine, his knee bumping her thigh, and with his left hand braced over her head, his big, broad body boxed her in against the back of the truck. She fisted her hands at her sides against the urge to reach up and knot her fingers in his shirt, drag him down, and seal her mouth to his. “This Friday. Six o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

She shut her eyes. “Griffin—”

“We don’t have to call it a date if you don’t want to.”

As if calling it a date was the issue and not that every time she was alone with him it became that much harder to remember all the reasons why this was a bad idea.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she murmured, needing him to understand that, however trite it sounded, this wasn’t about him. It was all her. Her baggage and her zip code and what she wanted. “I just ... I just think it would be better if we didn’t”—she swallowed over the tight knot in her throat—“call it a date.”

He hummed. “Let me see if I’m understanding this right.” His thumb swept against her cheekbone, and against her better judgment, she opened her eyes. Griffin was gazing down at her with an intensity that somehow left her both hot and cold. “You want it to be a date, but you don’t want to call it a date.”

Heat crept up her neck. When he put it like that, it sounded silly. “Right.”

“Because you don’t do casual.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The furrow that appeared between his brows was less perturbed than it was thoughtful. “What if I said I don’t do casual, either?”

She turned her head to the side. “Griffin—”

He captured her chin in a firm but gentle grip, making it impossible for her to look away, to hide. Her breath quickened, pulse racing at the way his eyes had morphed into blue flames. “I’m serious, Everleigh.”

If anything, that made this whole thing worse. “I still don’t live here.”

His thumb traced the contours of her mouth, dragging down her bottom lip. An almost violent shiver rolled through her, and his eyes darkened. “If you did?”

If she lived here, she’d have taken Griffin up on his offer to take her out on that first Wednesday. If she lived here, she probably would’ve dragged him off to a storage closet by now, a bunk room, maybe, and they probably wouldn’t be talking.

But as Grandma Dangerfield loved to say, If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, we’d all have a merry Christmas.

“I don’t.”

He lowered his hand and Everleigh instantly mourned the loss of his touch.

“Six o’clock?” He smiled, bittersweet and soft, and Everleigh ached .

“Hold on, let me get this straight: you work two consecutive twenty-four-hour shifts, so forty-eight hours, followed by ninety-six hours off?”

Griffin guided her through the surprisingly large crowd with a hand on the small of her back. “That’s right.”

“ And apparently you like to pick up extra shifts this time of year so your coworkers can have more time with their families.”

The tips of his ears turned an endearing shade of pink. “I’m a single guy without kids in his late twenties whose parents live twenty minutes across town. I can see them whenever I want. And my nieces and nephews? God love ’em, but they’re at that age where they couldn’t care less about their uncle Griffin when they’ve got presents from Santa waiting under the tree.” He shrugged easily. “It’s only fair I trade a few shifts so Harris and Nelson and Perez can spend time with their families.”

Fair and right and good and kind weren’t givens, but Griffin acted like they were. Like it was no big deal for him to sacrifice his Christmas so his coworkers could spend time with their children. Just like it wasn’t a big deal to finish hanging the lights for a disaster of a girl trying to do her grandmother’s memory justice.

“Tell me, are you striving for canonization, or are you just hoping it’ll be by happenstance?”

Griffin slipped his arm around her waist and bent, dropping his voice to a near whisper, his lips brushing her ear. “If you knew half the thoughts I’ve had about you, saint would be the very last thing you’d dream of calling me.”

A thrill shot through her, her thighs clenching at the thought of Griffin lying in his bed, a bunk in the firehouse, maybe, thinking about her in the middle of the night between calls, the heel of his hand pressed against his hard cock.

She shivered hard and Griffin chuckled.

“Thirsty?”

Parched. “Sure.”

“Let’s see.” His gaze swept the side of the marina’s parking lot that had been roped off, vendors selling everything from holiday tchotchkes to baked goods. “Cider, cocoa, or eggnog?”

“Cider, please.” Everleigh pointed over her shoulder in the direction of the dock. “I’m going to head over to the boats.”

Griffin nodded. “Meet you down there.”

The theme of this year’s Deck Out the Docks was Candy Land Christmas, and the boat owners of Port Angeles had shown up and shown out, turning the marina into a whimsical wonderland. There was pink and silver tinsel and sparkles aplenty, schooners and sailboats decked out with giant creations of sugary sweet treats that looked good enough to eat. Bright bubblegum pop renditions of the holiday classics drifted from the speakers of a nearby pontoon boat, and a few yards out in the marina, standing atop the deck of a small yacht, a group gathered around an electric heater cheered loudly as someone whipped out what looked like a blinged-out bottle of champagne and began filling red Solo cups.

“Miss Dangerfield!”

She turned, waving when she spotted Captain Keegan making her way down the dock, holding hands with two adorable little girls who couldn’t have been older than four or five.

“Captain Keegan.” Everleigh smiled. “And who do we have here?”

“This is Ava, and this is Charlotte.” Both girls waved shyly before tucking their heads against Captain Keegan’s thighs. “My daughters. And call me Lana, please.”

“As long as you call me Everleigh.”

Cap— Lana nodded, her mouth opening like there was something she wanted to say. “Is Brantley around?”

She tipped her chin toward the parking lot. “Grabbing us drinks.”

“Ah.” There was a twinkle in her eye. “You’re all he’s been able to talk about, you know?”

Everleigh flushed. “He, uh, seems like a really great guy.”

“I caught him looking up ferry schedules yesterday.”

She frowned. “Ferry schedules?”

“Mm-hmm. The Edmonds-Kingston ferry.” Lana arched a brow. “You know, the one between here and Seattle.”

The air left her lungs with a punched-out little laugh. “You’re kidding.”

It was, give or take, two and a half hours from Seattle to Port Angeles. Too far to reasonably commute daily, but someone could, say, spend a decent part of their ninety-six hours off in the city and make it back here well rested and ready to start their shift. Not that that someone would need to make the trip, not when, as long as Everleigh had her laptop and a reliable internet connection, she could technically work from anywhere. Anywhere including a homey little seaside town like Port Angeles that—with its charming festivals and neighbors who welcomed each other into their homes during the holidays and Good Samaritans willing to hang lights for a disaster magnet of a near stranger—had managed to worm itself into Everleigh’s heart in just a few short weeks.

Not that she was thinking about what that meant for her and her life past December. No siree, Everleigh wasn’t thinking about that at all.

Lana shook her head. “I wouldn’t joke about—”

A scream pierced the air and Everleigh whirled around with a gasp.

The yacht that only moments ago she’d admired had fallen into chaos. Sparks flew from the heater, flames already licking at the bottom of the mast.

“Cap!” Griffin jogged down the dock, a cup clutched in each hand and a frown creasing his face. “What happened?”

“Looks like an electrical fire, and it’s growing fast.”

In a matter of moments, the fire had spread, the entire bridge deck enveloped in flames, the passengers trying in vain to douse the fire with Solo cups full of lake water. No one aboard was wearing a life jacket.

“Go back to the house and get your father,” Lana said, shuffling her girls up the dock. “Tell him Mommy said to call 911. There’s an electrical fire on a boat anchored in the Port Angeles marina. Captain Keegan is off duty but on the scene.” The girls took off at a sprint, and she tugged on the zipper of her puffer coat, dragging it down.

Griffin set the drinks down and grabbed at the neck of his hoodie, tugging it over his head.

Everleigh goggled, watching him strip. “What are you doing?”

“In fifty-degree water, cold-shock response sets in in less than a minute.” He kicked off his boots. “The fastest B-shift will be able to get here is in five minutes. And that’s if we’re lucky. That’s too long.”

Dressed in nothing but an undershirt and boxers, Griffin executed a perfect swan dive, disappearing beneath the surface of the dark, choppy water. Everleigh’s heart leaped into her throat.

“He’ll be fine.” Lana stepped out of her flats and reached for the button on her jeans. “Brantley’s a strong swimmer. We both are.”

Over the course of the next five minutes, Everleigh bit her nails to the quick, watching as Griffin and Captain Keegan swam back and forth between the burning yacht and land, single-handedly helping the boaters make it back to shore. Hands literally full, closer to the dock than the boat, they missed as a hand shot up from the water, disappearing beneath the surface a moment later.

Everleigh didn’t think.

The water pricked at her skin like needles, stinging. She’d swum the one-hundred-yard breaststroke and four-hundred-yard freestyle relay in high school, made a few extra bucks lifeguarding at a community pool every summer. But that had been a decade ago; she was by no means a weak swimmer, but she’d never swum in waters this cold. And unlike Griffin and Captain Keegan, she hadn’t stopped to strip down, diving instead into the water dressed in a cowl-necked sweaterdress.

A face surfaced from the water half a dozen yards away, a young woman fighting to keep her head above the waves.

Adrenaline crashed through Everleigh’s veins, and she kicked her legs harder. If only she had a life buoy, a rescue ring, something, anything . Griffin and Lana had made it look so easy, towing the victims ashore, hands wrapped under their arms, using their legs to propel them.

“Help! Help!”

Sucking in a lungful of air just in case, Everleigh wrapped her arms around the waist of the woman struggling to keep her head above the water.

“Hold on,” she panted. “You’re going to be okay!”

She kicked hard and fast, pinching her lips shut against the water that lapped at her chin. With the dock in sight, no more than ten yards away, the woman she was helping panicked, starting to thrash. The heel of her hand jammed into Everleigh’s temple, her fingers tangling in Everleigh’s hair, finding purchase, shoving Everleigh’s head under the frigid water.

Her chest burned. Thirty seconds. That was how long, on average, drowning victims had before their involuntary breath-holding failed, carbon dioxide building up inside the lungs, triggering an involuntary gasp for air followed by aspiration of water into the trachea. Not even that long in cold water.

Just when it felt like her lungs were going to explode, an arm banded around her waist, dragging her above the surface. Everleigh gasped, sucking in a greedy lungful of air, and blinked brackish water from her eyes.

Griffin stared down at her, hair plastered across his forehead, water droplets clinging to his long, dark lashes.

“I’ve got you,” he said.