Tastes Like Sugar (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

HAYES

I’ve spent the last few hours with Sully attached to my hip. Unfortunately not literally, but it’s still been fun showing him the ropes and the sorts of things we spend our day doing when not on callouts.

When we hooked up, our age difference didn’t really register on my radar. Now, though, I don’t know. It’s a little more obvious—and sexy as hell—in the way he carries himself. He’s calm, confident, and sharp as a tack. He’s just a little shorter than me, but he’s got this presence that makes it seem like he’s the one leading the way. Every question he asks is direct and to the point, like he’s already thinking three steps ahead. It’s clear he’s efficient, but I can’t help noticing how that professional exterior of his softens just a bit whenever we’re alone.

I like it a lot and have become progressively needier for his attention as our time together keeps trickling on by.

We started the day with some basic chores—nothing too glamorous but crucial nonetheless. First up was gear inspection. I showed him how we clean and maintain everything from the hoses to the oxygen tanks. He listened intently, asking all the right questions, but there was something about the way he did it that made me wonder what he was thinking beneath that composed demeanor. I took every opportunity to brush close as I demonstrated something, keeping my tone light and playful though subtle enough that the others wouldn’t notice.

That’s the last thing I want—or more specifically, I don’t think he wants anyone to know what happened between us. And I get it. I really do. Sure, I can be dense at times, but my mom always told me you have one chance at a first impression.

I want him to fit in here. Be happy in Collier’s Creek as well as the firehouse.

After chores, we head over to the kitchen. Cap is chopping vegetables for lunch while talking through her headset to whoever is on the other end of the call. She gives us an up-nod and mouths, “I’ll be a while,” so I figure it’s a good time to show Sully the communal side of life here.

“We all take turns with the cooking and cleaning,” I explain, grabbing a sponge to start wiping down the counters. I catch his eye and give him a small, teasing smile. “Can’t let you off the hook, Sully. Everyone pitches in.”

He chuckles, a deep sound that sends a shiver down my spine, and takes the towel I hand him. His fingers brush mine, just for a moment, but it’s enough to send my thoughts skittering. I keep my focus on the task at hand, but I can’t resist a few more stolen glances his way.

As we finish up in the kitchen, the sound of laughter filters in from outside. The other two members of the crew are shooting hoops out the back where we have a small courtyard.

“You play?” I ask Sully, nodding toward the door.

Remy and Alice can’t have been out here long. They’re still wearing their thick sweaters, not having warmed up enough to peel off the layers.

“I haven’t in years,” he replies with a smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“Well, no time like the present,” I say, bumping his shoulder lightly with mine. Before we step outside, I tug a spare hoodie emblazoned with Collier’s Creek Fire Department off a hook and pass it to him.

He shifts awkwardly, lowering his voice as he says, “You’ve got a thing for the cold?”

I grin, immediately amused. “Not really. More like I’ve got a problem with you getting your cute ass frozen by not being warm enough.”

I don’t wait around for an answer, already knowing I’ve probably said too much, considering where we are. As we step outside, I focus on basketball and Sully telling me he hasn’t played in a while. “It’s good for team morale,” I say, explaining why we hang out in the courtyard even when it’s cold enough to freeze our nuts or tits off. “Plus, despite who Remy’s cousin is,” I add, pitching my voice high so my friend can hear me, “Remy can’t play for shit. You’ll make him feel better about himself with a couple of games of two-on-two.”

I ignore Remy cussing and flipping me off and shoot Sully a smirk instead. He’s staring at me with an arched brow and an amused expression.

“You sure you want me out there?”

“Absolutely,” I say, angling fully away from Alice and Remy and lowering my voice just enough so only he can hear. “Plus, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in action.”

That earns me two raised eyebrows and a faint smile, and I can tell he’s tempted. Finally, he steps onto the makeshift court, and it’s not long before he’s joining in, a little rusty but clearly enjoying himself. I can’t help but watch him, impressed by the way he holds his own.

As the game winds down, I sidle up next to him, leaning in close enough that only he can hear. “Not bad, Sully. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

He gives me a sideways glance, his eyes twinkling with something that looks like amusement. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says, his tone light but layered with meaning.

I grin, letting the moment hang in the air between us. “I look forward to finding out.”

For now, though, he has paperwork to get back to, so I’m going to have to let him go. But I’m already looking forward to the next time we’re alone and the chance to peel back another layer of that cool, efficient exterior.

“Come on. I’ll walk y?—”

The blare of the alarm pierces the air. Our gazes connect, and my grin is quick to form while he becomes wide-eyed, and I can’t tell if he’s panicked or excited. Maybe a little of both.

“Let’s go.” I move immediately, heading for my cubby.

Sully, hot on my tail, calls, “Me? You want me to come out with you?”

I flick him a glance. “Sure do.” That’s all I offer while I suit up, the crew around me doing the same thing.

“Alice,” Cap says, already standing next to the rig in her gear, “we’re heading to Sallinger Crescent, off Broadbank. Chimney fire.”

A throb of excitement pulses through me. All I hope is that the fire’s contained and no one’s been hurt.

“On it, Cap.” Alice is all efficiency when she jumps in the rig, starts the engine, and slams her door closed. That’s our cue to get moving.

Cap nods when I usher a still wide-eyed Sully into the cab. Sure, no one really wants to deal with a fire—or that’s our official line—but that Sully’s here to witness it makes him weirdly lucky. That seems like a crazy-as-shit word to use, but this time of year, our main callouts tend to be vehicle collisions. Those can be brutal. A fire, though, especially a chimney fire, is usually quick to contain and rarely has casualties.

We’re buckled in and tearing out of the station as Cap gives us a breakdown. “It’s a small residential fire, likely just the chimney. Should be contained if we get there in time, and we’re only three minutes out. I’ve got a couple of volunteers on standby, but I don’t expect we’ll need them. Let’s keep it tight, keep it safe, and get it out fast.”

I glance at Sully, catching the sheen of nervous excitement in his eyes, which is sexy as hell. He’s also going to see me in action, and I kinda love that.

We pull up to Sallinger Crescent, and the first thing I notice is the smoke—thin, gray wisps curling out of the chimney, not yet thick or black, but enough to set my pulse racing. This is what I live for. The anticipation, the surge of adrenaline that hits the second the rig comes to a halt. I’m out of the cab before it’s fully stopped, the world narrowing down to a sharp focus as I take in the scene.

The house is small, single story, with a cozy feel that clashes with the urgency of the situation. The scent of burning wood lingers in the air, mingling with the crisp bite of the cold. My breath fogs as I exhale, heart pounding, but it’s not fear that drives the heavy thud—it’s the thrill, the deep-seated knowledge that I was born to do this.

Cap’s out of the rig next, assessing the situation with a practiced eye. “Hayes, you and I will take the roof. Remy, get the hose and be ready to hit it from the ground. We keep it contained to the chimney. Make sure no embers spread. Alice, check everyone’s out and safe.”

“On it,” I reply, as does the crew, already moving into action. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. My body knows what to do, my mind already mapping out the steps. Suit up. Check the gear. Breathe. I’ve done this a hundred times, but every callout still sends that electric jolt through my veins, a reminder that this job is never routine.

“Sully, stay by the truck,” I say as I grab my gear, my tone firm but with a hint of the playful edge I’ve been using on him all day. His wide-eyed look shifts into something more resolute, and he gives me a short nod. “We’ve got this,” I add, the words laced with the confidence that I know he needs to hear right now.

Cap and I collect the tools we need—axes, pike poles, and the roof ladder—and head to the side of the house. We work in sync, every movement deliberate. During our ascent, heat pushes against us as it rises from the chimney, the crackle of fire just barely audible over the pounding in my chest.

We reach the roof just as the deputy’s car arrives on the scene. I spare a glance, relieved to see it’s Dakota. He may be new to the position, but he’s steady and efficient in a crisis. I turn my attention back to the task and steady my breathing. The smoke is thicker here, swirling around us like a living thing. It’s not just the physical challenge of the job that gets me going; it’s the intensity, the controlled chaos that makes every second count. This is where I’m meant to be, right in the thick of it, balancing on the edge between danger and control.

Cap works swiftly beside me, her focus razor-sharp. Together, we assess the chimney, spotting where the fire is hottest. The flames are confined for now, but it won’t take much for embers to spread to the roof if we’re not fast. I move quickly, but every action is calculated, each step deliberate. There’s no room for error up here.

“Got a good angle,” Cap says, and I nod, positioning myself to get the pike pole into the chimney. We need to break up any blockages, clear the way so the fire can be extinguished fully from below. Remy’s on the ground, ready with the hose. We’re a well-oiled machine, each of us playing our part in a dance we’ve rehearsed a thousand times.

“Remy, hit it now!” I call into the two-way attached to my jacket, and as the water rushes up through the chimney, the fire hisses and sputters, fighting its last battle. I can feel the rush of steam against my face, the sharp contrast of heat and cold, and it makes my blood sing. This is the part of the job I’m addicted to. The moment when you stand at the brink of disaster and pull it back from the edge.

As the fire diminishes, I take a moment to glance down at Sully. He’s by the truck, but he’s not just hanging around—he’s talking to Dakota and the homeowner, an older woman, someone I vaguely recognize, who looks like she’s been through the wringer. She’s standing there in slippered feet, clutching her coat tight around her, her eyes wide with worry, but Sully’s calm, steady presence seems to be helping. He offers a good balance to the more serious deputy at his side.

Sully pats the woman’s arm while nodding at something Dakota says. Sully getting involved isn’t what he was asked to do, but it’s exactly what she needs. Watching him like this, I feel a different kind of heat rise in me.

With the fire out, Cap signals for us to wrap it up before she heads over to Dakota. We lower the ladder, pack away the gear, and head back down to solid ground. My heart’s still racing, but it’s a good feeling—one of accomplishment, of a job well-done. I glance over at Sully, who’s now gently reassuring the homeowner that everything’s going to be okay. He meets my eyes, and there’s a look there, something deeper than just excitement. Maybe it’s respect. Maybe it’s more.

“You did good,” I say a little while later as we climb back into the cab, my voice low and edged with something only for him.

“So did you,” he replies, that faint smile back on his lips.

We buckle in, ready to head back to the station, but the energy between us has shifted. It’s charged with the exact same something when we first met, something I’m eager to explore. As the rig pulls away, the thrill of the fire still thrumming through my veins, I shift my thigh, deliberately pressing it against his.

He has plenty of room to move, to pull away, but he doesn’t.

I don’t hold back my smile, but I make sure I don’t direct it at him. Instead, I peer out the window, watching the familiar streets and houses I grew up around. I love this town and its people. That Sully’s found his way here has to be more than a happy coincidence, right?

Okay, so yes, his sister lives here, but the spark between us is as hot as those flames we just doused. With a gentle breeze and a little kindling, maybe we can keep it burning bright.

Cap’s “You doing okay, Sully?” snaps my attention back to the cab and my crew. She’s eyeing Sully, who straightens a little under her attention.

“Yeah. It was all a little intense.”

Cap bobs her head. “It always is.” She shoots him a grin. “Hell of a second day, huh?”

At my side, his thigh still against mine, Sully chuckles. “You can say that again. An eye-opener for sure.” He glances around at the four of us. “You all just sort of moved as one, seemed to know what one another were thinking.” He shakes his head, and I’d like to think it’s awe I hear in his tone.

“That’s a hell of a scary thought,” Alice calls out over the sound of the engine. “There’s usually only a couple of things on Hayes’s mind.”

A chorus of “sugar and coffee” follows from all three asshole members of my crew.

Sully chuckles, and I drop my gaze to his lips before meeting his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word of it.”

He quirks his brow. “Are you saying you don’t spend a lot of time thinking about a caramel macchiato with an extra dollop of whipped cream?”

Out the corner of my eye, I see Cap staring at the two of us. Rather than making it clear that since our night together, Sully is taking up a lot of real estate in my mind, I force my tone to pitch toward teasing when I say, “Well, I’m not going to say I don’t think about a caramel macchiato, but let’s just say there’s another blend that’s been keeping me up at night.”

From the way he shifts and ducks his head, it’s clear I’m being as subtle as the sirens on our rig. In my defense, reining in the need to flirt with him and pull a reaction from Sully is practically impossible.

Thankfully, there’s no time for him or anyone to respond as we pull into the station. My focus turns to straightening out my gear, cleaning the rig, and preparing for the next callout. It doesn’t mean I don’t watch Sully leave with Cap at his side.

Nor does it mean I don’t catch his final subtle glance my way before he disappears around the corner. I swear, watching the man walk away is like trying to look away from a fire—it’s almost impossible, and I’m left feeling the heat long after he’s gone.