Tastes Like Sugar (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

HAYES

Once a month we run a training session, bringing together our two full-time units and the volunteers. It’s often a fun night. We spend a couple of hours refreshing our skills, which is followed by a catch-up and usually ends with us tossing back a few beers—except for the four on-duty firefighters and the four volunteers on call.

I’m off duty, and tonight’s shaping up the same way as usual. The only difference is, Sully’s here, and I’m struggling to keep my attention off him, let alone my hands off him.

We’re on the last refresher task—a hose drill, of all things. It’s fairly simple, something everyone with the slightest bit of training can do, even the volunteers who don’t get as much practice. I glance at Sully, who’s fidgeting slightly next to the rig. He’s in his element as the firehouse office manager, but this… this is way out of his comfort zone—even though he insisted on joining in, thinking it was a good idea to get to know the team.

Dean Hobart, the major’s brother, was chatting with him earlier. After a ball of jealousy tried to take hold, I’d quickly gotten over myself—probably because of the crooked smile Sully gave me as I walked by. It’s great that the team is getting to know him, and Dean’s a good guy.

But I swear, every time I’m close to Sully, I feel that familiar flutter in my chest.

“All right, Sully, let’s see you handle the hose,” I tease lightly, making sure my tone stays encouraging.

His eyes widen, and he looks at the coiled hose like it’s a rattlesnake. “I’ve got it,” he says, though he looks unsure, a little stiff in his movements. He steps forward, clearly trying his best. I’m proud of him. He’s really putting himself out there.

But before Sully can even start, Dave—a volunteer with a history of overconfidence and a smug grin that’s way too familiar—speaks up. “Careful, Sully,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Don’t pull a muscle. We’re not doing paperwork here, buddy.”

Laughter ripples through the group, but my eyes narrow. Dave’s always had this cocky attitude. We hooked up once, when I was fresh out of high school, but that was a mistake I regretted almost immediately. He’s been flirting on and off ever since I returned to Collier’s, never quite catching on—or maybe just refusing to acknowledge—that I’m not interested.

Tonight, it’s different. Dave isn’t just being his usual annoying self. He’s testing me, picking up on something. My interest in Sully maybe. It’s like he can sense it. That or I really am doing a crappy job of hiding how Sully lights up my world.

“Cut it out, Dave.” I keep my voice sharp but steady. The laughter dies down. “We’re here to train and support one another.”

Dave gives me a look, one eyebrow raised like he’s surprised by the bite in my tone. I’m sure he’s not the only one—I’m a little surprised myself.

“Relax, it’s just a joke,” he says, his grin faltering for a second.

“Uh-huh,” I reply coolly, my eyes locking with his. He might not realize it yet, but the days of him getting away with this are over. Sully doesn’t need shit.

There’s a brief pause, tension settling into the air. Sully stands there, frozen, and I can feel his surprise. For a second, I worry that I’ve embarrassed him. But when he glances at me, there’s a small, grateful nod before he smiles.

Sully’s eyes flicker between Dave and the hose, and then he takes a deep breath. With a quick smile, he looks at the hose like it’s some wild creature, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I think I’ll survive this round without a workers' comp claim,” he says, his voice light but just loud enough for the group to catch. His eyes widen comically as he adds, “But hey, if I do pull a muscle, I’ll make sure to fill out the paperwork in triplicate—just to be thorough.”

A ripple of laughter spreads, even from Dave, who snorts despite himself. The tension breaks, the chuckles bouncing around the group, and even I feel the knot in my stomach ease a little.

Sully grins and takes a confident step forward, the stiffness gone as he begins to handle the hose with a steady hand. He shoots me a quick, playful glance, like he’s saying, “I’ve got this.”

A still-smirking Dave seems to deflate slightly, the sharpness in his attitude dulled. “Fair enough,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of respect in his voice now. He does keep his distance for the rest of the session, though. I catch him eyeing me a few times, and it’s clear what he’s thinking. He knows something’s up between Sully and me. But that’s my business, not his.

As the session wraps up and we start putting away gear, Sully drifts over to me, his face a mix of exhaustion and relief. “Thanks for letting me join in,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting mine with that soft, endearing look that’s been pulling me in since day one.

“Always,” I reply, giving him a gentle nudge. I want to reach out and touch him—just a quick brush of my hand on his arm—but I hold back. We’re still keeping this under wraps, and with Dave lurking nearby, I’m not about to give him more fuel for his teasing.

Sully lingers for a second longer, his gaze flicking toward the others before returning to me. “Watching you play the hero is kinda hot,” he adds, his voice low, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“Watching you not take shit is even hotter,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual, but my mind’s already racing ahead to when we’ll finally be alone again.

We break apart as the guys start heading toward the communal area, ready for that end-of-session catch-up. I follow along, but my mind is still half with Sully, wondering where we stand. Is he my boyfriend? Or are we just… something undefined?

I don’t have an answer yet, but I know one thing for sure: I’m not letting Dave—or anyone else—ruin what’s happening between us.

I grab myself a beer, noting Sully already has one. With my bottle in hand, I sit next to him. I figure it’s better this way, less obvious than me mooning over him from afar. There are already a few conversations going on; one is about the tree-lighting ceremony taking place in town in a couple of weeks.

“Are you going to be selling your calendars?” Dean asks me, earning a chuckle from the group as well as groans and eye rolls.

“Don’t get him started,” Alice says, holding her beer up in cheers before taking a sip.

I flip her off. “Don’t worry, Alice. I’ve got your ten set aside. Nothing to be embarrassed about that you want so many.”

She snorts. “I’ll get my darts ready, and the modesty stickers. Last thing I want is to be looking at your hairy nips.”

A loud laugh huffs out of me. “From the hundred back copies you own of the previous three calendars I’ve been featured in?—”

That gets me a heap of balled-up papers—and a few potato chips too—thrown in my direction from the team.

“Now, now, nothing to be jealous of.” My lips twitch. “You know there’s not a single visible hair on my nips. But I’ll have you know, hairy chests are fucking sexy.”

Do not look at Sully. Do not look at Sully.

Which is hard because I have a new appreciation for hairy chests since feasting on the man at my side.

“Hallelujah, there’s a chance for all the non-body-groomers yet. Alert the press that the Wyoming Firefighter Bachelor of the Year committee are widening the pool,” Remy hollers, his brows bouncing as he throws me shade.

“There’s a Wyoming Firefighter Bachelor of the Year?” comes from Sully.

I shake my head and throw a packet of potato chips at Remy. “Ignore the asshole. He thinks he’s funny.”

Grinning, Remy presses his hand against his chest in mock outrage. “There is no think , sweetheart .”

I snort out another laugh at my friend. “Uh-huh, okay, wise guy.” I glance at Sully, whose eyes are sparkling with amusement. “And there’s definitely no Bachelor of the Year bullshit.”

“There definitely should be,” Remy adds. I snap my attention to him, willing him to be quiet, which is so not like me. “It would be great for charity. Just think how much more money the fire departments could raise in donations from that kind of event.”

Just the very idea of Bachelor of the Year, especially for charity, would usually have me jumping at the chance to be involved. I have no issue with being in the spotlight, but fuck, I have Sully now. No way do I want to be involved in that kind of single dude meat market.

“Hey, Dean, you could talk to your brother, right? Get him to sponsor it or give it his seal of approval or something?” Remy says to Dean, who looks like he’s mortified by the very idea.

“Uhm… maybe?”

Remy has a gleam in his eye, one I recognize as him getting carried away and totally on board with an idea. The thing is, it is an awesome idea.

And when multiple people in the room, including Alice, join in, completely in support of the prospect, I need to react.

Shit. Bachelor. Am I still a bachelor when I’m dating? Does someone have to be married or engaged to no longer be one? I need to check.

Ignoring the excited, far-too-eager conversation around me, I tug out my phone and open up the dictionary app. Yes, I absolutely have an app downloaded to check out things like this.

I just have no idea how to spell bachelor, but this app is pretty good at figuring out my piss-poor spelling attempts.

“What are you doing?” Sully’s leaning in close, his voice quiet.

I angle my phone to him so he can see as I focus on the third definition.

bachelor

noun

bach·e·lor ?bach-l?r

?ba-ch?-

3

: an unmarried man

He chooses to remain a bachelor .

Huh, so I’m officially a bachelor, then.

As I glance at Sully, trying to read his expression, Remy calls my name.

“So, what do you think?”

Shit, I completely switched off. “About?”

“A bachelor auction?”

“What the fuck is a bachelor auction, and what happened to Bachelor of the Year?”

He shakes his head at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “An auction could totally get more contributions. Plus, we thought that the bachelor who drew the highest bid could be labeled Bachelor of the Year. Dean’s on board too. Right, Dean?”

Poor Dean still looks horrified, and I wonder how I missed all of that while looking at the dictionary.

“So, if I can get it off the ground for next year, maybe, are you in?” Remy pauses before adding, “But how awesome would it be if we could do it this year?”

There’s nothing subtle about my wide-eyed reaction. What the fuck do I do?

This year…? Hell, definitely by next year, I hope to have locked down my relationship with Sully. In the next week if possible. And marriage…. Well, it’s too soon for sure, but who knows how things will progress over the coming months.

Aware all eyes are on me and confusion is beginning to cross some of the expressions aimed my way, I clear my throat. “I think it’s a great idea.”

Don’t look at Sully. Don’t look at Sully.

“I can help in some way. Behind the scenes.” An idea slams into me, and I grin. “I can totally be on the mic. I can emcee the shit out of that.” The spotlight and I are friends. That would be a blast and keep me involved while getting me out of the auction.

The looks of shock surrounding me have me rolling my eyes. “What?” Not going to lie, I’m a little defensive.

“Who are you and what have you done with the Hayes who would have created a whole promo campaign to make sure he got the highest bid?” Alice is scrutinizing me far too intently.

I deflect, saying, “I wouldn’t even know how to organize a campaign, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Admittedly, my deflection is a little weak.

At my side, Sully shifts. My attention is drawn to him immediately. The asshole is barely containing his amusement. Fuck, he looks handsome, eyes practically sparkling with laughter. But still, he’s being an asshole and clearly taking far too much pleasure in my panic.

I’m parting my lips, ready to tease him back, when the callout alert sounds. I make to jump up until I see Jacob stand and race toward the cubbies.

I’m not on duty, but fuck if the urge to race into action doesn’t have adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Stay safe,” Remy calls out.

I flick him a glance to find his gaze on Sully. I tense, wondering why he’s staring so intently, then freeze when his attention moves swiftly to me. He studies me a beat before he arches his brow, a smirk forming.

I twist my lips and bite the inside of my cheek, narrowing my gaze a little. He huffs out a quiet snort, but it’s not loud enough to draw the attention of anyone around us. Then the asshole bounces his brows up and down and throws me a wink.

Does the asshole know? In defeat, I sag back against my chair.

Sully and I need to have a serious conversation.

For one, I need to get this whole boyfriend label locked down. Then, we need to agree to tell people. I know it’s kind of awkward for him, but I’m prepared to have a conversation with Rhys as soon as he green-lights it.

I just hope it’s soon.

Thankfully, the callout interrupted the discussion about the charity event. It also breaks up the get-together and has us all finishing our drinks and leaving. Some of the group heads on to Jake’s Tap, but my plan is to go home with Sully.

Sully beside me, we manage to get away without prying eyes. Once we’re alone, I release a lungful of air. Not going to lie, I’m tenser than I realized.

“You okay?” All the teasing is gone from Sully’s tone, so I figure he realizes I’m not quite myself.

“Yeah. I just want to get home.”

He nods, two small lines appearing between his brows. I don’t like that I’ve put them there.

We head back in silence, the atmosphere in the cab tense, and honestly, I feel the doors pressing in on me a little. When I pull up, we get out of the truck, and I lead the way, Sully a step behind me.

Once inside with the door closed, we head to the kitchen. Usually, I would have pounced on Sully by now. That’s absolutely what I want to do. Every second we’re together where I can’t get my hands or my mouth on him is a moment longer than I’d like.

That I feel that way doesn’t even worry me. I don’t give a shit if I sound desperate or needy. It is what it is, and I’m tired of holding back.

“You want to talk about whatever’s on your mind?”

I turn to face him, pressing my ass into the counter. I lean back, letting it support me. “Yeah,” I answer honestly. Even more honestly, I add, “But I’m also worried you’re not going to agree with me or want the same thing.”

Moving to stand opposite me, Sully tilts his head, studying me. “How about you tell me what’s going on, and we’ll get whatever this is figured out.”

“Are you my boyfriend?” I blurt out the question, my heart thundering as I do so. “That sounds a little too much like a conversation I had with someone when I was in the fifth grade.”

His lips twitch. “You had a boyfriend in the fifth grade?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I wanted one, but he turned me down flat.”

“What an asshole,” he says with a smile.

My lips begin to tilt high until I see his smile fade away, signaling that he’s waiting for me to finish, or maybe it’s him trying to figure out how to respond. How to say no. How to turn me d?—

“In my head I’ve already been calling you my boyfriend, so if you want that label as well, I’m more than okay with that.”

My breath whooshes out of me, and I move directly in front him. As soon as I’m in Sully’s space, I wrap my arms around him, tug him close, and slant my lips against his.

The moment our lips touch, my anxiety melts away, replaced by the warm, steady beat of Sully’s presence. His hands settle on my waist, pulling me closer, grounding me. The kiss is soft but certain and so fucking perfect.

For a few glorious seconds, the rest of the world fades into the background.

But then I pull back, the weight of the conversation still hanging between us.

We stand there, our faces close, his forehead nearly resting against mine. “We need to talk about this, about going public,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s soon and that it shouldn’t be a big deal, but I also know you have your doubts.”

“No, not doubts. That’s not it.” There’s a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. “I want to be up front with you,” he says quietly, his hands remaining on my waist as if he can’t let go.

“I’m kind of nervous you’re going to say something like you’re embarrassed about me.” Just as I know my strengths, I know my flaws.

“I’m not embarrassed by you,” he says so quickly that the sliver of self-doubt in my gut stills. “I couldn’t be further from that. I’m proud of you, proud to be with you. You’re incredible in every way, and it blows my mind that you even want to be with me.”

He swallows hard, the words seeming to cost him something. He continues, “But I’m anxious about how my family will react—how my sister will react. My nephew. I don’t want to cause tension or waves. I don’t want them to think….”

“That it’s wrong?” I finish for him, heart clenching at the thought of him feeling ashamed.

He hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. That I’m some old, overweight guy robbing the cradle. That’s not what this is. But I don’t know if they’ll see it that way.”

I let out a frustrated breath, sliding my fingers up to cup his face and brush the lines of worry etched into his skin. “Stop that,” I say firmly, my voice taking on a strength I usually only use when out on a call. “You’re not ‘some old guy.’ You’re not just my best friend’s uncle. You’re Sully. You’re strong, sexy, and—honestly? I like everything about you.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by my words, like he can’t quite believe I mean them. But I do.

Determined, I hold his gaze. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I want you , exactly as you are. The only opinion that matters is ours.”

For a beat, he just stares at me, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to find some flaw, some reason to doubt. But when he doesn’t, something in his expression softens, his grip on me tightening.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

I shake my head, smiling softly. “You’re exactly what I deserve, Sully. So, can we stop worrying about what everyone else thinks and just… figure this out, together?”

Sully lets out a long breath, then nods. “Yeah. We can do that.”