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Was it an addiction? The way he felt about her—could he be destroying himself? He’d already decided he wasn’t going to date anyone before he’d returned to Copper Creek. Then that mindset had turned into him choosing to be alone.

Yes.

He had his answer. It wasn’t healthy to obsess over a woman he had no chance of getting. That evening he’d almost leaned in for a kiss, and she hadn’t exactly looked scared of him. Ash couldn’t describe what he’d seen in her eyes other than an expectation of what was to come.

After he’d been dropped off at the station, he got into his truck, ready to go home. Only he didn’t end up there.

His face was still covered in smudges of soot. His hair smelled of smoke. And yet he found himself sitting in his truck in front of the Keagans’ home. He’d been drawn to it, needing closure for something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Ash pushed the truck door open, then hesitated. It was dark out. Not many lights were on in the house. Anyone who was home could already be asleep. Still, he ignored that fact and walked around the back to where the door would lead him into the kitchen.

A twig snapped beneath his foot and a quiet gasp echoed toward him. His head shot up, and he found Charlie sitting on the back porch with a mug in hand.

Her eyes rounded and she rose to her feet. “Ash? What are you doing here?”

He stepped into the light, eliciting another gasp. She took a step toward him, her hand reaching for his face only for her to think better about it and withdraw.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his head briskly as if it would air out the smoke smell. “I’m fine,” he replied.

She glanced toward the house. “Do you want to see Liam? I can go get?—”

“No,” he said far too quickly. Ash hadn’t even been aware that Liam was staying the night here. He knew the brothers occasionally stayed at the house when they had work to do early in the morning. “Do you mind… if we talk? Just you and me?”

Charlie hesitated. She had one foot on the steps and the other on the porch itself. He could see the cogs in her head whirling. She probably thought he was going to talk about what happened between them last time. He wouldn’t blame her for turning him down. He’d overstepped; she deserved to have space.

But then she shifted to face him. “Can I get you some tea?”

He smiled. “That sounds nice.”

When they were seated beside one another, both with steaming mugs in hand, she finally spoke again. “What did you want to talk about?”

Ash glanced sideways at her. “I had to work today.”

She stilled, her mug halfway to her lips. Then she blew on it and said, “I know.” He could hear the disappointment in her voice, and he flinched.

“It was harder today.”

This time she turned to face him fully.

He smirked at her. “Doesn’t mean I love it any less.” Then he breathed a heavy sigh. “I guess it makes it interesting when it’s a challenge.” Though, admittedly the challenge had nothing to do with the fire itself and everything to do with the woman seated beside him.

She huffed, but at least she wasn’t tearing him to pieces.

Ash chuckled and took a sip of his drink. “I don’t think I will ever stop loving my job no matter how hard it gets, no matter how dangerous.” He wanted so badly to ask her if she could ever love a guy who put his life on the line like he did. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t have a girlfriend. But most of all, he wanted to tell the beautiful girl beside him that he wanted a chance with her.

And yet he couldn’t.

Charlie sighed. “Yeah, well, lucky for you, I’m not your mom.”

He nearly choked on his drink, laughing as he turned to look at her. He couldn’t agree more—but for different reasons. Instead, he said, “My mother wouldn’t dare tell me what job I should have.”

She shrugged but didn’t meet his eyes. She kept her focus on the darkness surrounding them.

“Have you thought about my offer? About the self-defense classes?”

Still, she didn’t look at him. She wore a knitted shawl around her shoulders, a pair of pajama pants, and a loose-fitting T-shirt. It looked like she had been preparing for bed. Had he interrupted her nighttime routine? He wanted to say he was sorry—but he really wasn’t.