Page 5 of His Big Holiday Firefighter (Bigger Is Best #2)
CHAPTER FIVE
The winter festival had transformed Pine Ridge’s main street into a Christmas card come to life.
Strings of white lights crisscrossed overhead, their glow catching the early morning frost that coated every surface like diamond dust. Steam rose from food vendors’ stalls, carrying the scents of hot chocolate, roasted chestnuts, and fresh-baked goods into the crisp December air.
The whole town appeared to shimmer with holiday magic, and for the first time since I’d arrived, I felt a pull of nostalgia that wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
I got to our demonstration booth early, telling myself it was professional pride and not a desperate desire to see Noah sooner.
As I arranged mixing bowls with practiced precision, familiar voices and laughter drifted through the air, reminding me of countless festivals from my childhood.
My grandmother had always said the winter festival was when Pine Ridge’s heart beat strongest.
“Need a hand?” Noah’s voice, warm and rich as melted chocolate, made my heart skip.
He was standing there holding two paper cups, his cheeks pink from the cold. He wore a soft-looking red flannel shirt under his jacket that gave his shoulders an even broader look, as if that were even possible. I had to force myself to look away.
“Thanks.” I accepted the coffee, and our fingers brushed. The contact sent a warmth through me that had nothing to do with the hot drink. “I thought you had an early shift?”
“Switched with Mike.” Noah set down his cup and began unpacking his equipment with the easy confidence of someone completely at home. “Couldn’t let you face Mrs. Henderson’s judgment alone. She’s still mad about the snickerdoodle incident of ‘19.”
The casual way he referenced town history made me feel something—envy or regret or maybe a messy combination of both. “You really know everyone here, don’t you?”
His movements paused. He glanced over at me, his expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, I guess I do.” His eyes searched my face. “Is that a bad thing?”
Before I could answer, before I could untangle the complicated mess of emotions his question stirred up, Mayor Thompson appeared in a whirl of holiday perfume and enthusiasm.
“Boys! Perfect timing. We need a last-minute demonstration for the morning crowd. Nothing fancy, just something to get people excited about the competition.”
“We’d love to,” Noah said, saving me.
We ended up making Nai Nai Lee’s famous hot chocolate cookies, the ones that melted on your tongue like drinking chocolate in solid form.
Working together in front of an audience felt surprisingly natural, like we’d been doing it for years.
Noah handled the crowd while I focused on technique, our movements around each other as smooth as a choreographed dance.
“Now,” Noah said to our rapt audience, his voice carrying easily over the festival sounds, “the secret is in how you fold the batter. James?”
I demonstrated the technique, hyperaware of Noah’s presence behind me, of the solid warmth radiating from his body.
“You want to keep the air in the mixture.” I tried to sound professional despite the way Noah’s hand on my shoulder sent a jolt of electricity through me.
“It’s all about being gentle but confident. ”
“Like most good things in life,” Noah added with a wink that made several women in the audience sigh appreciatively. The tips of his ears were pink, and I had to resist a sudden, ridiculous urge to touch them.
The morning flew by in a blur of demonstrations and samples.
I relaxed into the rhythm of it, enjoying the way Noah could make anyone smile and the genuine warmth of the community’s response.
Children watched wide-eyed as we shaped cookies.
Elderly couples shared stories about the bakery’s history, and even Mrs. Henderson seemed impressed by our teamwork.
“You two remind me of your grandmother and grandfather,” she told me during a quiet moment, her eyes twinkling.
“They used to dance around each other just like this in the kitchen. Took them forever to admit what everyone else could see.” She patted my hand.
“Sometimes the best recipes take time to perfect.”
Sarah’s arrival, with her heels clicking purposefully against the pavement, saved me from having to respond. “James! The buyers want to make an offer. Above asking price.”
I felt Noah stiffen beside me and saw his shoulders tense, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “Can we discuss this later?”
“They need an answer tonight.” Her professional smile didn’t quite hide her impatience. “Call me after the festival.”
A new tension settled between me and Noah. The rest of the afternoon passed under its weight. As we packed up under the darkening sky, fat snowflakes began to fall, catching in Noah’s hair and eyelashes.
“Walk with me?” Noah asked suddenly, his voice soft but intent. “There’s something I want to show you.”
We found ourselves in a quiet corner of the festival, where someone had wrapped an ancient oak tree in thousands of tiny lights.
The snow was falling harder now, muffling the distant sounds of the festival and creating a private world of white.
The lights reflected off the falling snow, forming a magical dome of sparkles around us.
“I used to climb this tree as a kid,” Noah said softly, looking up at the branches.
“Your grandmother would bring me hot chocolate after particularly bad shifts at the firehouse. Said the lights helped remind her that darkness never lasts forever.” He turned to me.
“She helped me believe in magic again, after my mom...”
I was struck by how the lights played across his features, how vulnerable he looked in that moment. “Noah, I?—”
“I know you’re planning to leave,” he interrupted, his voice full of emotion. “I know this is just temporary for you. But James...” He stepped closer, one hand coming up to cup my cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. “What if it doesn’t have to be?”
Suddenly, Noah was kissing me, and everything else fell away. He tasted of cinnamon and possibility, his lips warm despite the cold air. I melted into it, my hands fisting in his flannel shirt, overwhelmed by the rightness of it all.
The kiss deepened, grew heated. Noah backed me against the tree, one hand tangling in my hair while the other gripped my hip.
The bark was rough against my back, grounding me as his mouth made me feel like I might float away.
I gasped when he nipped gently at my lower lip, the sound swallowed by another kiss that made my knees weak.
My phone buzzed aggressively in my pocket, Sarah’s special ringtone cutting through the moment like a knife. She was a great real estate agent, but damn, she had the worst timing.
We broke apart, breathing hard, but Noah didn’t step back. Instead, he rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as if in prayer.
“You should get that,” he said quietly, but his hand tightened slightly on my hip.
“Noah—”
“It’s okay.” He finally stepped back, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “You have to do what’s right for you. Just... think about it? Please?”
I watched him walk away, snow swirling in his wake like stardust. My phone buzzed again, but I couldn’t feel my fingers enough to answer it.
Or maybe that was just an excuse. My lips were still tingling from his kiss, and for the first time since I’d arrived in Pine Ridge, I wasn’t sure what “right” meant anymore.