Tastes Like Sugar (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

SULLY

“Where’d you get the hat and scarf?”

I stop in my tracks and peer over at my sister, who’s already holding a glass of wine and has been buried in her Kindle for an hour.

Touching the soft wool on my head, I offer, “Hayes.” I try for nonchalance, but I’m not sure Abigail’s buying it. While there’s a decent age gap between us, so it’s not like we hung out lots as kids—hell, when I was a tween, she’d almost finished college—she still knows my tells.

She quirks her brow high and takes a sip of her drink, pinning me with her stare.

What I should do is wave her off and get my ass out of here. I’m heading to the basketball game, then out for drinks after with Cap’s crew. They overheard Hayes talking to me about Friday’s game and swiftly invited themselves along. Apparently, there’s not all that much to do in town—especially weekly beyond high school football or the occasional band playing at one of the bars—so the introduction of basketball has been supported enthusiastically by locals.

“What?” I roll my eyes at myself. I swear, big sisters, even when in their fifties, have the power to manipulate from a stare alone. It’s impressive really, but I’m not a fan of it being directed my way.

“It looks like one he knitted himself.”

Knitted himself? “Hayes knits?” That’s not something he’s shared with me. Instinctively, I touch the scarf that I tried once—halfheartedly—to return to Hayes, but with a smile, he insisted I keep it and the hat.

“Yeah. He’s pretty good too. He’s in the knitting circle. Managed to get a few guys and younger folk to join. Apparently, knitting is what all the cool kids are getting into these days. It’s ‘lit’ or whatever.”

I snort. “Lit, huh?”

Abigail pulls a face at me. I’m tempted to tug out my cell to take a photo. I can’t imagine the kids at her school would believe this was the way their assistant principal behaved.

“So, who did you say’s going out for the game and drinks tonight?”

I press my lips together. “Are you missing Rhys or something? Feel like going into mom mode?”

“Fair point.” She places her wineglass on the table. “It’s good you’re heading out, making friends.” Her tone softens. Abigail knows full well the shitshow of my ex and the oftentimes toxic environments of my working life.

I won’t get into any crappy emotions, though. Not now when I’m embarrassingly keen to go and watch kids chasing a ball around a court. Admittedly, my eagerness has a lot to do with seeing Hayes outside of work. That we’ve got chaperones is probably a good thing.

I snort out another chuckle. “Thanks, Mom .”

“Oh, fuck off. You know what I mean.”

Her cussing has me laughing harder. “I do,” I say when I rein myself back in. “Everyone at work, both crews, are great. I’m enjoying being in such a different environment and out of corporate.”

“I can tell.” She angles her head, studying me intently. “And the hat and scarf look good on you.”

I ignore the tease in her voice, unwilling to read more into it. With no idea how she’ll respond if she discovers my involvement with her son’s best friend, I have no desire to spend more energy on it.

Not yet. Maybe not ever. Though considering my eagerness to see Hayes, I suspect the time might come soon enough. I’ll just cross that bridge when I come to it.

With a “Thanks,” I wave goodbye and head on out. I’d only come into the main house to sort my laundry, but it’s a reminder that if things do work out at the fire station, I should look for a more permanent place to live in the New Year.

Collier’s Creek is beginning to feel a lot like home.

The biting air snaps across my exposed cheeks as soon as I step outside. This morning there was a light flurry of snow, but it stopped around midday. Even if it does pick up again later, it seems a lot more sensible for me to walk to the high school where the basketball game is.

I have zero experience driving in the snow. So, me behind the wheel would be dangerous to the town’s residents. One day soon, I’ll have to bite the bullet and take a chance, but today’s not the day.

It’s already dark, but the streetlights illuminate the way, so I can easily see the pavement that’ll lead me in the right direction. I step onto the sidewalk from my sister’s drive and come to an abrupt stop at the sound of a car door closing.

Hayes rounds the hood of his truck, a grin stretched wide, his eyes bright. Fuck, he’s handsome.

He’s also here.

“I suspected you’d walk.”

His words startle my brain into working, and an easy smile slides into place.

He’s here for me. The thought has my insides going all gooey, which isn’t as unpleasant as it sounds.

“You did, huh?”

“Yep.” He nods as he approaches me, his gaze moving to my hat before dipping to my neck and the warm scarf. I flush, despite him already having seen me wearing both earlier this week. “Thought we could make the trip together.”

Heat floods my chest. How a guy as hot as he is ended up so sweet is difficult to comprehend. While I hate stereotypes as a rule, I have years of firsthand experience that makes the man before me a unicorn.

A shiny, ripped-abbed, firefighting unicorn.

“That’s mighty chivalrous of you.” I step closer to the car. Sure, it’s really Hayes I’m edging toward, but I feel the need to pretend a little longer that we can make it as “just” friends.

Do I want more? I think I do. But I need to be sure. Diving in headfirst with a man with such strong ties to my family could end up being a nightmare. Being certain is smart. But every cell in my body is protesting that there’s still too much space between us.

“My dad taught me right.” He follows up with a wink before turning and opening the passenger door for me. His arched brow and sweet smirk comes with a silent “See?” And I absolutely do see. I also think his dad is a smart man and deserves a reward or something.

I say as much to Hayes as I settle into his old truck, my muscles relaxing when the warmth in the old cab wraps around me.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.” He grins as he starts the engine.

“You get on well with your folks?” I ask. I’m curious about the people who raised him. What will they think if we start dating? An age gap is one thing that I know some people get worked up about. Add in my connection to Rhys, and that’s got to cause some sort of reaction, right?

“I do.” He pulls away from the curb. “They divorced when I was thirteen and seemed to do it all as admirably as possible, you know?”

I blink. Admirably? I nod while saying, “Even if amicable”—I deliberately don’t put stress on the word, but I don’t ever want him to be in a situation when some asshole might mock him for using the wrong word—“it still must have sucked.”

He shrugs and spares me a glance and a soft smile. “Amicable, right. It did a little, but they were happier for it. Plus Mom came out, which honestly, made things easier for me.”

My brows shoot high in surprise.

“I already knew I was interested in boys by then and never hid it from my parents. They were always amazing that way. Mom and Dad were best friends from school, and well, Mom sort of buried that part of herself. It made me sad as fuck when she told me.”

I wince, my heart going out to Hayes and his family. “It’s a story far too many people can relate to. That she reached a point where she felt able to come out, though—that’s amazing.” He nods as I continue, “And your dad?”

“He loved Mom, wanted her to be happy. Struggled for a while there, though.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Thankfully, my dad’s not an asshole. He took it in his stride. It did impact their friendship, which I get. He was hurt. But they’re both awesome, both remarried. I even have a kid sister who’s about to turn eighteen. She’ll be in college next year.”

“No shit? From your mom or dad?”

“Dad.” Hayes chuckles. “Dad was in his mid-forties when Hallie had Ruby.”

“Oh, wow. Brave.” I blink at that while also doing math to work out his dad’s age. It makes me feel a hell of a lot better that he’s more than a handful of years older than me.

Hayes puts the blinker on and turns left. Still not knowing the town well—even though it’s my mission to study the map and learn the lay of the land for work—I recognize we’re close to the sheriff’s station.

“I suppose. Hallie’s a few years younger than Dad. Like, ten or twelve years or something.”

The information makes my heart pick up speed. I so desperately want to flick a glance at Hayes, but I’m too chickenshit. Instead, I ask, “Your mom—you said she’s married?”

“Yeah. Dad moved to Denver, so not too far away. Mom’s still here, in the county. Mom and Stephanie live just out of town on a large acreage. They’re obsessed with rescuing strays and nursing injured animals. It’s not officially a sanctuary, but they get plenty of visitors. We can head out one day, if you want? They’ve just taken in a gray fox. I’m planning to head out next week for a visit.”

Is he asking me to meet his mom?

“Uhm… I’ve never seen a gray fox before,” I answer a little lamely. I swear, whoever said being in your forties meant you were a grown-up didn’t know what they were talking about. It’s so damn easy to fall into a version of myself I haven’t seen for a long time around Hayes.

I just wish it wasn’t the shy, fumbling version I tended to be twenty years ago.

But shit happens, and the part of me that thinks “I don’t give a fuck what people say or think” is growing a little louder every day.

When I sense movement, I glance Hayes’s way. His smile is wide and warm. “In that case, let’s make it a date next week. Have you got your schedule sorted for work?”

All I can do is nod. Then I realize he asked a second question, so I quickly shake my head. “Not yet. Zoey said 50 percent of my hours need to be during the usual office hours. The other 50 percent can be whenever I want.” Honestly, the flexibility is amazing.

Marge did regular Monday to Friday office hours. Not being restricted is a luxury I’ve never had before.

Hayes’s “Well, you have access to my schedule….” is left hanging wide open.

Because, yes, I do, and I may already have considered scheduling myself around times Hayes is on duty. Obviously, not with the crazy forty-eight-hour shifts he does, but if I work the occasional weekend, that’s no hardship.

“I do,” I answer, our gazes connecting as he pulls up in a space in the busy parking lot.

His smile indicates he likes my answer. “You ready?” he asks, opening the door.

“I sure am.” I’m genuinely excited about being here. It’s young kids chasing a ball. I get that. I don’t have outrageously high expectations. But it’s a night out in the community. A tendril of anticipation buzzes across my skin.

It’s the polar opposite of my life since leaving college, and I can’t wait to start experiencing life again.

Once we’re armed with hot dogs and Cokes, we settle in next to the crew. They all greet me enthusiastically and introduce me to almost everyone within hearing distance. There are a lot of names and faces, but give me a month, and I’ll be hollering in the street to say hello when I spot someone I know.

Heck, on the way to our seats, we said a quick hello to Dakota, the deputy I met on scene, who’s here with Tad from the bar. I may have blushed a little, wondering if Tad knew that Hayes and I left together the night we met. If Tad did, he didn’t say anything. He was super friendly and simply parted ways with a smile.

The thought buoys me—the idea of settling and being part of this community— through the start of the game. Admittedly, it’s slow and a little painful to watch at times, but the kids are trying, and the spectators are enthusiastic. The whole time, Hayes is at my side, a constant presence that’s becoming more and more familiar.

Hayes leans in close. “You still down for drinks after this?”

It’s a struggle to ignore the goose bumps from his close proximity or the warmth of his breath against my neck. “Yeah, absolutely. You’re at work tomorrow, right?” I have no idea why I’ve asked, since I already admitted I know his schedule. It just seems like the polite thing to ask.

“Yeah, ready for the handover.”

I bob my head. It means no late night for him. Or at least that’s what I assume. His early shift is also the reason I made excuses for not meeting up with him yesterday, despite him asking and me knowing he had today off. The temptation would be too much. Add in a few beers to loosen my tongue and my inhibitions, and I doubt I would have found my way home.

Not that Hayes pursuing me isn’t ridiculously flattering. It is. I’m not even deliberately playing hard to get. I am legit over games. But he also knows why I’m holding back. And while he respects it, he’s not deterred.

I’m happy he’s not.

“Where was everyone thinking of going?” It’s best I remind him—myself—we’re not alone.

“Jake’s.” The quiet rumble of his voice sends a fresh breakout of gooseflesh to wash over my skin. Unable to resist, I pull back to look at him. Jake’s is where we first met—if I ignore the vague memory I have of him as a kid. And from the heat and intensity in his gaze, he’s remembering all too well exactly how that night ended.

Remy’s “Whoop!” grabs our attention. Our focus snaps to the court. One of the kids from Collier’s scored. We clap and cheer, and when the applause peters out, we stay looking at the court rather than each other. It gives me a moment to breathe.

To think.

To wonder why, after just one week and one earth-shattering night together, I’m easily becoming obsessed with Hayes.

Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, I tug it out. I open the text and smile when I see it’s from Austin.

Austin: Did you survive your first week?

Me: Sure did.

Austin: Jasper wants to know how things are going with your firefighter.

A rush of warmth spreads through me, and I dart a quick glance at Hayes. Our gazes connect, his attention fully on me and what I’m doing.

“Everything okay?” His focus drifts to my phone before returning to making eye contact.

“Yeah. Just an old friend checking in and asking how I settled in at work.”

Hayes smiles. “And how did your first week go?”

“Great, in all honesty. Everyone’s been so welcoming,” I answer while firing off a quick text to Austin that says, “All good. I’ll catch up later.” Putting my phone away, I turn my full attention to Hayes. “Not sure if I’ll feel quite as chilled as I have this week once Marge has left, though. She makes running everything seem so effortless.”

It’s been a different pace this week and a whole lot of systems for me to get my head around. A lot simpler in some ways and a lot less pressure than my old job, but what I’m doing now seems a whole lot more important.

“Marge is a powerhouse. And from what I’ve seen, you’ll get things worked out, run them the way you want to.”

Aware Zoey’s sitting just a couple of seats away, I simply nod. In truth, I do have some things I’d like to tighten and a new computer program I’m interested in implementing, but I don’t want to step on toes or shake things up too drastically.

At least not straightaway.

That Hayes has voiced his confidence in me is sweet. He’s also pretty darn astute. Sure, he’s mentioned not understanding things too well a few times, but that doesn’t mean he’s knowledgeable up or smarter than I think he gives himself credit for.

And that’s just after a week of knowing the man.

“Thanks. I hope so. I’m determined to make it work.”

He gives me a flash of a smile, and I swear happiness all but radiates off him.

Because of me. My answer.

I can’t even question or doubt it when Hayes holds nothing back.

“I’ve got no doubt.”

With that, we refocus on the game and the small humans racing around the court. There are a couple of kids who seem to have a decent skill set, which is promising. It also makes for an entertaining game when there are a couple of collisions. Though I don’t think I should have snorted out a laugh at those.

Though in fairness, I’m not the only one who chuckled a time or two.

By the time the buzzer sounds and we head out, I’m keen for a softer seat and a splash of booze in a place that doesn’t echo. The drive is short and barely long enough for a conversation where Hayes tells me a little about Colton, the high school teacher who’s the team’s coach, and a little bit more about Will, the barista from CC’s.

My lips part in shock as we pull up into a parking spot, and I turn to look at Hayes. “He has a private plane?”

“Right.” Hayes snorts as he shuts off the engine. “Your expression is pretty much the same as everyone else’s when we discovered that.”

“Was he, like, a rock star or something?”

Hayes shakes his head. “Nah, but we do have a former Collier’s resident who made it pretty big. But Will, I don’t know, he was in finance or engineering or, hell”—he scratches his head and shrugs—“honestly, I have no clue. Has his own company, maybe. Whatever he used to do makes him loaded. I think he’s still a partner.”

“And he works in a coffee shop?”

“That’s right. It’s Collier’s Creek, Sully. I swear this place gives folks the chance to be whoever they want to be.”

It’s idyllic, how he describes his town.

But I also know it’s not without its problems.

I’ve spent some time looking over past reports of some of the incidents that the fire department has attended. Not everyone in this town is completely savory. But I suppose that makes this place more real and a little less intimidating.

“Good to know.”

Hayes unclips his belt, his gaze roaming my face. The air fizzes between us—hot and electric, charged with a tension I can’t quite name. The space between us is a live wire, and any movement will either close the circuit or burn us both.

He shifts slightly closer, his thigh brushing against mine. The touch is fleeting, but it sends a jolt through me like static shock. His eyes search mine, as if he’s looking for something, permission, maybe, or reassurance. My breath catches in my throat, and for a beat, I think I might give in to this moment.

My thoughts whirl, a chaotic mix of desire and caution. I’m hyper-aware of every small sound—the hum of a truck’s engine as it drives past us, the distant throb of music spilling from the bar, the rhythmic pounding of my own heartbeat. The air feels thick, heavy with unspoken words and possibilities.

“Do you ever miss it?” Hayes’s voice is low, almost a murmur. His question catches me off guard, and I blink, trying to focus.

“Miss what?”

“Home,” he says softly, his gaze steady on mine. “Where you’re from.”

I swallow, the intensity of his gaze making it difficult to think. “Sometimes,” I admit, though the word feels inadequate. There’s so much more I could say, so much more I could share, but I’m not sure I should.

His hand drifts from the steering wheel, his fingers brushing against my arm, light as a whisper. The contact is brief, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to send another shiver through me. I know what this is building to, and I know how easily I could let it happen. But the thought of where that might lead makes my stomach twist. The combination of anticipation and fear is a hell of a thing.

Hayes leans in slightly, his face now inches from mine. His breath is warm against my cheek, and the smell of him—clean, with a hint of something spicy—fills my senses. The tension between us is almost unbearable, like a rubber band stretched to its limit, ready to snap.

I should say something, do something to break this moment before it spirals into something I’m not sure I’m ready for. But I’m rooted to the spot, caught between what I want and what I think is right.

He reaches up and brushes a stray lock of hair at my temple. The gesture is tender, almost intimate, and it makes my heart lurch. My resolve is slipping, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. All I can think about is how close he is, how easy it would be to close the gap between us.

And then, out of nowhere, there’s a sharp rap on the window. The sound is jarring, shattering the bubble we’ve been in. I jerk back, the spell broken, and turn to see Alice standing outside the truck, her face a mask of amusement.

Relief floods through me, mingling with a sharp stab of disappointment. I’m grateful for the interruption, but at the same time, I can’t ignore the pang in my chest.

Hayes pulls back, his expression relaxed, neutral almost as he rolls down the window. “What’s up, Alice?”

Alice glances between us, her gaze lingering on me for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. “Just checking in. Wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Hayes replies, his voice steady, though I can hear the undercurrent of something else. “Thanks.”

Alice nods, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. Hell, maybe it’s suspicion. It’s hard to tell, and I’m too flustered to try to figure it out.

As she walks away, she yells out, “Last in gets the first round!”

I exhale slowly, trying to steady the riot of emotions churning inside me. Hayes doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. The moment has passed, and I know we can’t get it back.

But the weight of what almost happened lingers between us, heavy and unspoken. And I’m left knowing I need to get my shit together. I can’t be that guy. The asshole who leads someone on. Especially when that someone is as great as Hayes.