Tastes Like Sugar (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

SULLY

My stomach’s full and my cheeks ache from smiling.

“It wasn’t that bad.” I snicker as I shake my head. We’ve stumbled into reminiscing about our different times living in SoCal, somewhere I lived before I settled in San Francisco. Not going to lie, discomfort formed like a sticky layer on my skin when Hayes first mentioned Rhys and the reality of our situation, but he cut through any awkwardness with an ease that I’m a little envious of.

“Dude, when you were there, didn’t you see the holes in the wall?” Humor lightens his expression. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been to a couple of places where that was hot as hell, but that bar was a hovel. What was the place called again? Something about toads?”

I tug my lips in between my teeth, trying to contain my laughter. This is hardly the place to talk about glory holes.

“In my defense, when I went, I was hungry, new to the city, and I thought it was called Toad in the Hole because it was a British bar.”

Hayes’s chuckle is loud and infectious. “Holy shit, me too.”

Hell, everything about Hayes is infectious, and not in the STI way. It doesn’t take much to get caught up in his joy and his easygoing nature. His carefree happiness is all-encompassing.

Simple, almost.

If he’s happy, every cell in his body appears to sing, lighting up and shining on the world around him.

Fuck, he’s addictive.

“I was with another probie whose parents are British,” he says with a snicker. “Our faces when we realized the only sausages on offer did not come with a side of mashed potatoes….” Amusement colors every word as he shakes his head and picks up his coffee. When he does so, a frown appears.

He looks longingly into the empty cup, and my lips twitch.

“You need another? I can ask if they serve their drinks with a side of sausage.” My grin is wide. I don’t think my stomach can take any more. I’ve wiped my plate clean and really should already be out of my chair and getting in my steps to try to encourage my metabolism to not give up on me just yet.

Hayes’s lips hitch up at my comment, but he shakes his head. “I’d better not.” A yawn follows, and I’m reminded he’s come off a long shift and has yet to sleep.

“I think that’s your cue to head home and to bed.”

He sighs and nods, the gesture seeming a little reluctant. “You’re probably right.”

At his words, we both stand. Hayes turns first, tugging on his coat before he heads out, calling out goodbye to several locals, including Cam, who I’ve since discovered owns CC’s. I follow quickly behind, saying thanks to Cam and Will, the guy who served us food earlier.

The frigid air greets us.

“Still not acclimatized yet?” Hayes grins, his eyes on me, no doubt having spotted my whole-body shudder when the icy fingers of the breeze touched my skin.

“Is it possible to ever acclimatize?”

Hayes chuckles as he takes a couple more steps away from the doorway so people can enter. Quickly putting my gloves on, I follow.

“The first winter after I came home from SoCal sucked. Thought my balls were going to freeze off. But you get used to it. It’s kinda awesome having proper seasons, you know?”

Unconvinced, I wrinkle my nose. “I’ll take your word for it.” I’m half teasing. It’s not even snowed yet, though my sister says to expect a heavy fall soon.

Hayes releases another soft chuckle. “After your first winter here, your first Christmas, you’ll never want to spend another one without snow or in a place where you can wear a T-shirt in December.”

“Uh-huh.” I arch my brow, totally calling bullshit. Though, to be fair, the photographs from Abigail over the years she’s lived here have been something you’d see on a traditional Christmas card.

While I’m looking forward to a white Christmas—something I’ve not experienced before—it’ll need to be something pretty darn special to have me agreeing with him.

Hayes forms a contagious grin, and not for the first time this morning, a dimple appears on his right cheek. It should be illegal to be so damn handsome. Add in how sweet and funny and kind he is, it’s ridiculously unfair that he has that cute-as-hell dimple too.

“Come on. Let’s get you home and warm before your ears drop off and you decide to give up on Collier’s Creek early.” While he’s smirking, he’s eyeing my ears as if he’s genuinely worried about them. To be fair, they’re feeling the cold. “Where are you parked?”

His question pulls me up short. “Oh, I walked.”

His brows shoot high before a frown dips them, a small crease then appearing on his forehead. “You walked?” Intense eyes peer back at me.

“Yes?” My confusion lilts my response, making it sound like a question.

My sister’s house is only a twenty-five-minute walk away. Twenty if I pick up the pace. And honestly, I need all the exercise I can get. Since I don’t do gyms, walking is my go-to.

“Without a hat, a scarf?” Hayes roams his gaze up and down my body as he speaks, and discomfort settles in my chest.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been questioned about what I’m wearing, let alone been under the scrutiny of such a concerned look, which is what I’m sure that is.

“I’m fine,” I say pointedly. While I suppose it’s kind of sweet—the whole furrowed-brow thing—it’s also completely unnecessary. “I’m going to head off, and I’ll see you tonight.”

He mentioned over breakfast that he was looking forward to dinner at my sister’s. Understandable, since she’s one hell of a cook.

“Thanks for breakfast,” I add, a smile tugging at my lips.

He nods, saying, “I can drive you back. It’s no trouble.”

My smile settles a little easier. “That’s kind, but honestly, the walk will do me good.”

I made peace with my expanding waistline several years ago, but that doesn’t mean I want to set myself up for a heart attack. Exercise in some form is necessary. Not that I’m going to tell Hayes that.

He may be wearing a sweater, but his exposed forearms when he’d tugged up his sleeves earlier almost had me swallowing my tongue. It was an all-too-real reminder that the man packs a tempting collection of muscles under his clothes.

Pursing his lips, Hayes nods, a reluctant move if ever I saw one. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”

“You will. I hope you manage to get a good sleep,” I say before spinning on my heel to head to my sister’s.

Hayes saying, “Sully” stops me in my tracks. I turn back, brows high. “Here.”

I startle, my head jerking when he steps fully into my space.

“At least wear this,” he says as he eases a woolen hat onto my head.

While I’m at a loss regarding his weird reaction to me being hatless, my lips part in surprise as I stand here wordlessly, allowing him to tug the soft wool a little lower so it covers my ears.

His grin is wide, satisfied.

But he’s clearly not done, as he removes his scarf.

“Uhm…,” I finally manage. “This seems completely unnecessary.”

“It’s cold and you’re going to get ill.” Despite his soft voice, there’s a firmness evident that makes my stomach tumble.

I work hard at keeping my breathing steady and even as he wraps the purple scarf around my neck. It’s warm, immediately fending off the chill from the bite in the breeze. Despite that, goose bumps break free.

It’s nothing to do with the frigid air, though, and everything to do with the ridiculously sweet man. So sweet, in fact, I’m struggling to process his attention.

“There you go. Much better.” He tucks the one end away in my coat, a satisfied smirk forming.

“Thank you?” Yeah, I sound as unsure aloud as I do in my head.

“Anytime.” He takes a small step back, giving me room to drag in a lungful of biting air. “I’ll see you soon. Talk your brother-in-law into making an apple pie if he has time.”

My smile comes easily, his comment helping my brain come back online. I don’t even wince at the reminder of how he knows Larry. “I’ll be sure to pick up the ingredients and leave them somewhere conspicuous. Where he can see them,” I add as an afterthought. I’m not even teasing about my intention. Larry is an excellent baker.

Hayes snorts out a chuckle. “Sounds like a plan.” He lifts his hand. “Catch you in a little while.”

I bob my head, lift my hand, and turn down the street.

I don’t look back, despite feeling his gaze on me. Though that could be wishful thinking. I wince. Wishful? I try to shake thoughts of Hayes away, especially those locked onto things I shouldn’t be contemplating.

The last thing I want is any awkwardness between me and my nephew’s childhood best friend. I enjoyed breakfast with him and our conversation. And yes, I’m pointedly ignoring the memory of our night together that’s seared into my brain. Breakfast was easy, effortless after the initial awkwardness I felt when I first arrived.

And that’s a good thing.

It means we can potentially be friends. I wince. Friends . That’s all we can be to each other.

Abigail didn’t seem to think going for breakfast was a big deal, and while I don’t usually give two shits about anyone’s opinion of me, my family’s opinion matters. The last thing I want is to cause friction.

I head toward the grocery store to pick up ingredients for the apple pie. I’m likely overthinking all of this. As I step inside the store, its bright lights spotlighting the fresh fruit, my shoulders relax a little.

I’m definitely spending too much time thinking about Hayes and having more with him. Let’s be honest, it’s not the first time I’ve admitted those words to myself. But all through breakfast and the whole him worrying about me thing, it’s been hard not to remind myself how easily we clicked.

I expel a shaky breath as I pick out some apples and place them in a bag. Yeah, I definitely need to stop thinking about what could be and focus on getting my life back on track, starting my new job, and making a go of settling into this community.

Hayes is a distraction I shouldn’t be inviting into my world.

After my initial nervousness about Hayes coming to dinner, the evening ended up being drama free and fun. Hayes stayed on the light side of flirty and didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, and the meal was excellent. By the end of the night, I felt more settled—that I’d not only done the right thing with the move, but also that I could find a new home here and friends.

Admittedly the latter isn’t up in the air exactly. I have little doubt Hayes and I can be friends. The issue is, he’s so damn attractive and easy to spend time with. How can I settle with friendship when such an incredible guy wants to hang out with me?

Which he does. Those were his parting words Sunday night.

They’ve been bouncing around my brain intermittently since Sunday night, not enough to distract me from learning my new role and duties, but enough to get the blood buzzing in my veins, knowing he’s already at the firehouse.

It’s only day two on the job, and Marge is making the transition effortless—well, I survived my first day, at least. I’m grateful as hell she’s sticking around for a couple of weeks. The systems in place work great and are well established. Today, as soon as I get in at nine, she’s going to run through the yearly planner—not only the community events, but the booking processes, what professional organizations I need to communicate with, and what additional training and checks I need to oversee.

Knowing Hayes is on-site is already distracting, but the smile that keeps attempting to tug my lips high is a dead giveaway that I’m excited about seeing him as I navigate my car along the busying main street.

I’ve met the rotation crew—four firefighters who’ve been welcoming and only hazed me once.

Yesterday, my first day, they had me sit in on a “special meeting” where they presented me with an overly complicated “administrative challenge”—a stack of fake paperwork that required filling out an absurd number of forms, all of which were hilariously outdated or bizarre. There were forms for things like “Unicorn Transport Authorization” and “Dragon Feeding Schedules.” I quickly realized it was all in jest when they burst into laughter at my perplexed expression.

After that, they brought out donuts and coffee, instantly making me feel welcome.

The second rotation crew with Hayes on the team started this morning at seven. I just hope I keep my shit together and don’t get all flustered.

Shit.

What if he’s told someone about our hookup?

The thought almost stops me from putting my blinker on to instead drive past the entrance to the station parking lot. With a nervous dip in my stomach, I sigh and pull in.

If Hayes has, then so be it. There’s nothing I can do about it after the fact. We never discussed how we were going to handle everything. Plus, it’s not like I haven’t told my friend Austin. It’s not something I would have usually called him up to share with—maybe when we were in our twenties, but not now in our forties.

But on Sunday, once I realized who Hayes was, damn straight I called him up with my “holy shit” moment.

The asshole had laughed, thought the damn thing hilarious, had even put me on speakerphone. I’ve only met his partner, Jasper, a couple of times over the years, and honestly, I think I might dump Austin as my close friend and swap him for his boyfriend. Jasper was a lot more sympathetic than my old college friend was.

Zoey’s outside talking to…. I study the Black man at her side. Remy. With so few firefighters on rotation, I made it my mission to examine the framed photographs on the wall yesterday. Usually, I work with a lot more people than this, so I made sure I committed the names and faces to memory yesterday.

There’s a team of volunteer firefighters on call should extra support be needed. I’m determined to learn all their names and faces, too, by the end of the week. Living in a small town like this, it’s good to know who’s who.

“Hey, Sully,” Zoey says. Rather than offering me her hand, she hugs me in greeting. She was only around briefly yesterday, since it was officially her day off, but she made it crystal clear that the Collier’s Creek station is very much a family. She also latched on to “Sully” rather than my given name; I suspect she overheard Hayes last week.

“Hey, Cap.” My lips twitch as I pull away.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t call me out for using her moniker. “Remy.” She indicates the man at her side. He’s about the same height as Zoey, with wide shoulders and startling eyes. “This is Sully. Marge is making sure he knows the bullshit you all try to pull so he’ll be prepared for anything.”

Remy’s smile is wide when he shakes my hand. “Don’t listen to Cap. She’s just pissed Hayes won’t buy her a cinnamon swirl from CC’s. Harriet’s given him strict instructions.”

I quirk my brow and smirk at Zoey. I don’t know Harriet beyond that she’s married to Cap.

Zoey just rolls her eyes. “Let’s head inside. Hayes will be back any minute from the coffee run,” she says, and I struggle to ignore the way my stomach somersaults and my pulse flutters. “I’ll introduce you properly to the guys. Then, this morning, I’d like you to shadow one of the crew, just to understand the day-to-day runnings.”

“I’ll be what now?” For years, ever since finishing college, I’ve sat my ass behind a desk.

Zoey chuckles lightly and pats my shoulder. “Nothing to worry about. You can get back to the safety of working with Marge on the schedule this afternoon. It’s important to have at least a semblance of understanding of what we do here, what’s expected of our firefighters. That way, when you’re trying to do your job, you’ll be able to navigate your way around the team and balance expectations versus reality better.”

As she speaks, my brows rise higher and higher. They’re so close to touching my hairline, there’s no doubt her “nothing to worry about” response missed its mark.

Zoey indicates for me to follow her while Remy gives me a friendly shoulder nudge. “Don’t sweat it. We’re not that bad.”

“Hmm.” I give him a side glance. I kinda read through the lines that getting the team to do anything—complete requests, fill in paperwork—is going to be like wrangling cats. It can’t be that bad, right? It’s not like Zoey won’t run a tight ship. The tour yesterday told me a lot—everything was clean, well maintained, and organized, not only the station itself, but most definitely the administrative side of things.

“I think she just wants you to know that while things can be super chill here, they can also be a bit manic. So if, for example, we’re up all night on a call, and you rock into the office when we’ve just gone to bed to try to get a couple hours of sleep, that won’t be the best time to ask us to do anything.”

I nod. “That makes sense.” It would just take some adjustment, working in an environment where I’d be left to my own devices a lot of the time while trying to organize things with a team whose day would not necessarily ever be the same.

We head into the communal room. The space is quiet, much like it was yesterday. But with only four full-time firefighters on duty at any given time, I’ve been told this is the norm. I’ve also been told that when the fifteen volunteers come in for training, the station’s a much busier, more hectic place.

“Listen up,” Zoey says as she directs Alice and Remy to the large table that’s big enough to sit twelve. “Tom Sullivan, Sully, will be replacing Marge in a little less than a couple of weeks. It’s not your job to scare him off and have him questioning his life choices.”

The pair before me grin, and with their eyes already on me, they nod in my direction.

It takes less than two seconds for Remy to ask, “Are you the cat guy?”

Expecting this, I chuckle and rub the back of my neck. “Guilty as charged. What better way to figure out if I’d fit in with a firehouse team than by meeting you all on a callout?” I’m full of shit, but the snickers around the table are on the right side of teasing rather than ridicule.

“Sully here is also Abigail’s brother,” Zoey adds.

Alice’s eyebrows shoot high. “No shit.” She casts a glance behind me. A sprinkle of awareness has me catching my breath and straightening my shoulders. Alice continues, “Isn’t that your boy Rhys’s mom?”

As much as I’d like to not look at Hayes, my gaze naturally gravitates to his as he reaches my side, two coffee trays in his hands. His gaze meets mine, his smile quick to form. At his proximity, my muscles loosen rather than tightening further.

“One and the same.”

“So you know each other?”

“No,” I’m quick to say.

Hayes arches his brow, a question forming in his eyes. He then glances at Alice. “Not really. I think I may have met Sully once as a kid. Not enough to recognize him.”

I slowly expel my held breath. Hayes hasn’t told anyone about last week. This time when Hayes looks my way, I offer him a small smile, grateful he’s kept this to himself.

“Sully and I go way back,” Zoey says. “It was a complete surprise him being here, though.”

“I swear,” Remy starts with a snicker, “if you all say you’re related, second or third cousins or some shit, I’m going to buy you banjoes for Christmas.”

As Zoey shakes her head, I grin, my shoulders fully relaxing.

“What do you expect from small-town living?” Alice shrugs. “If someone’s not related or doesn’t know a friend of a friend’s dog, then you’re never going to settle in or be prepared for a place like Collier’s Creek.”

“Were you born here?” I aim the question at Remy and Alice, since I know Hayes was, while Zoey is a transplant like me.

“They wish they were that cool.” Hayes shoots me a wink. On cue, butterflies take flight in my stomach. I swear, the man only needs to breathe in my direction and he pulls some sort of reaction from me.

I’m grateful this time it’s not my dick saluting him.

Alice answers first. “My dad was born here but moved away for college and never headed back. I was brought up in Tennessee.” When my eyes widen, she chuckles. “College numbed my accent a little. Teaching a little bit more.”

“You were a teacher?” I ask.

“For a year before I realized it wasn’t for me. It didn’t take me long to figure out firefighting was. I headed this way a few years back. Moved in with my grandparents.”

Damn, she wasn’t lying about the family connections. I turn my attention to Remy, wondering what his connection is to Collier’s.

“I just moved here nine months ago.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

When he doesn’t continue, Hayes throws a balled-up napkin at him. “Don’t be a dick. Tell Sully your connection.”

From the way Hayes is grinning, I wonder if this is the friend of a dog’s friend connection.

“My cousin’s friend moved here last year.”

I wait for more. When it doesn’t come, I force my furrowed brow to smooth out. “Okay. So he’s your friend too?”

“Not then, no.”

“Jesus, Remy. You’re making it sound like you were running from the mafia or something.” Hayes throws another balled-up napkin at Remy, who ducks it with ease.

“How did you link anything I just said to the mafia?” Remy snorts in amusement.

Completely ignoring Remy, Hayes says, “His cousin’s Cassius Britton.”

What? My brows shoot high, and I openly stare at Remy. If he’s bothered by Hayes’s oversharing, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“ The Cassius Britton?” The question fires out of me. “As in, the Minnesota Eagles player?” Holy shit .

“That’s the one. And don’t get too excited. He’s nowhere near as awesome as I am.” Remy chuckles.

Alice snorts. “Uh-huh. Professional basketball player or firefighter in Collier’s Creek…. A toss-up for who made the best career choice.”

“Cass only wishes he could make it as a badass firefighter,” Remy fires back, throwing me a wink.

“I’m sure.” I smirk, trying to process the connection. “So, his friend?” I ask curiously.

“You remember Will from CC’s?” Hayes says. He’s been quietly passing around the coffees before turning to look at me, handing me a to-go coffee cup. When I nod, he says, “His partner, Colton, almost made it to the League. Met Cass at that elite basketball college camp they have every year.”

“No shit?” Every basketball fan knows about Montview. It produced some impressive players over the years, Cassius Britton being just one of them.

“Yeah, he’s the head coach of the kid’s basketball team Will was talking about.”

Just as I’m about to nod, Remy interrupts, saying, “Y’all went to CC’s?” It’s less of an accusation, more of a confused “I thought you said you didn’t know each other?”

I still. Maybe blanch a little.

I don’t have a chance to respond—thank Christ, since I have no idea what to say—as Hayes answers, “Yup. Also had a slice of Larry’s apple pie Sunday night too.”

“Shit, man, and you didn’t get us any?” Remy complains.

“It needs to be eaten fresh to really appreciate it,” Hayes responds, a grin forming as he settles in a chair at the table. I’m relieved he shifted the conversation away, shining the spotlight on his connection to me being that of a family friend.

I sip my drink, appreciating yet again what good coffee they serve at CC’s, and even more than that, how Hayes remembered my order for the second time. He’s incredibly thoughtful. I inhale the scent of roasted beans and smirk when the group keeps firing fun digs at each other before Zoey reins them in.

A gut-deep rightness settles inside me. There are no assholes on the team. No one here who I think will try to backstab me. And the man at my side inhaling a coffee that smells so sweet, I think it would make even a bee fall into a sugar coma, well, with the way he deflected and took the heat off us, I’m sure he’s more than just a pretty face, a pack of lickable abs, and an incredible fuck.

Not even half an hour of being on the job with him and I’ve got a feeling that Hayes has an arsenal of ways he’s going to get under my skin and make it impossible to simply keep things professional.