Page 5 of Let it Sizzle (Playing with Fire #3)

Levi

I’m early. Not just a few minutes early—a full twenty minutes early, sitting in my truck outside The Hollow Table like a man with zero chill and way too much pent-up energy.

I’ve already adjusted the collar of my shirt twice, changed the radio station five times, and checked my rearview mirror more than once to make sure there’s nothing in my teeth, even though I haven’t eaten anything.

I don’t usually get nervous. Not on calls.

Not even when lives are on the line. But this?

Waiting for Serena? This has me feeling like I’m in high school again.

She called me earlier in the day to let me know that she didn’t want me to pick her up, that she would come to the restaurant herself.

I’m sure that has something to do with Byron.

I didn’t want to put any damper on our date so I agreed, even though it means I’m left waiting and wondering if she will show up.

And then she does.

She steps out of her car like she’s walking in slow motion—dark hair loose around her shoulders, dress floating just enough in the breeze to tease a glimpse of the curve of her thighs.

It’s not flashy, nothing bold, but somehow that makes it worse.

Like she doesn’t even realize how beautiful she is.

Which only makes me want her more. My chest goes tight just watching her walk toward me, that uncertain smile playing on her lips like she’s still not sure she belongs here. But she does. God, she does.

I meet her halfway, because I need to see her up close—need to look at her like she’s already mine.

And God, she doesn’t disappoint. That soft, floral dress clings to her curves like it was made for my hands, not just her body.

Her hair is curled at the ends, loose around her shoulders, and when she smiles, it damn near knocks the wind out of me.

“You look absolutely stunning.” I say it low, leaning in just enough to make sure she hears me over the hum of the patio lights.

Her smile deepens, cheeks tinged pink. “Thanks. You clean up well too.”

No jeans and T-shirt for this fireman tonight. Not when I’ve waited years for this. I’m wearing the suit. The one I only pull out for events I actually care about—and this? This is the most important thing I’ve suited up for in a long damn time.

Inside, the ma?tre d’ gives me a knowing nod. “Your table’s ready, Chief.”

I rest a hand on the small of Serena’s back, guiding her through the tight space between tables, not missing the way her breath catches when my fingers brush the dip of her waist. The restaurant’s small, cozy—tables packed close, candles flickering in old whiskey glasses.

The kind of place that makes you lean in just to be heard.

Perfect.

We slide into our seats, barely a foot between us. And for once, I’m grateful the town’s dining scene is so damn limited.

“Wow,” Serena murmurs, glancing around the room. “I didn’t realize Silvertown Hollow did… fancy.”

I grin, reaching for the wine list just to give my hands something to do. “The chef moved here from Chicago a few years ago. Decided to bring five-star to the middle of nowhere.”

She raises a brow, clearly impressed. “And here I thought I’d have to settle for burgers and milkshakes.”

“Oh, you can still get those too, if you want,” I tell her, eyes locked on hers. “But tonight, I wanted to give you something more.”

She’s worth the effort, and I want her to know it.

She looks at the menu and I can tell I took her to the right place. Her smile widens as she looks at the options. “Definitely an upgrade from burgers and milkshakes!”

“You really left for good, huh?” I ask, my voice low so it doesn’t carry across the small restaurant.

She shrugs, her gaze flicking down to where our hands are tangled on the table. “Didn’t have much of a choice.”

My chest tightens. I know what she means without her having to spell it out. That house. That life. No girl deserved to grow up like that.

“No regrets?” I ask, needing to hear it.

She hesitates, then smiles, a little sad, a little real. “Maybe a few.” Her eyes lift to meet mine. “But coming back... definitely isn’t one.”

She shifts in her seat, her thigh brushing mine under the table, and I feel it everywhere.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” I say. I might not like what I hear, but I need to know everything about the years I wasn’t there to protect her.

She laughs softly, that shy, melodic sound that curls in my gut and makes me tighten my grip. “Not much to tell. Went to school. Got a degree. Worked some jobs. Started drawing more seriously.” She bites her lip, glancing up at me through those long lashes. “Lived a little. Messed up a little.”

God, I want to kiss that lip out from between her teeth.

“You forgot one thing,” I murmur, leaning in so close that I can smell the sweetness of her shampoo.

“What’s that?” she whispers.

“You got more beautiful,” I say, my voice so rough I almost don't recognize it.

Her eyes go wide, and her cheeks flush a pretty pink that makes me want to pull her across the table and devour her right here.

She shakes her head, laughing it off like she doesn’t believe it. Like she doesn’t realize she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I tighten my grip on her hand. “I mean it, Serena. You’re... fuck. You’re breathtaking.”

Her throat works as she swallows, and I catch the way her chest rises and falls faster now, like she’s struggling to pull in enough air with me this close.

The waiter comes by, notebook in hand, and Serena gives him a polite smile. "Just the Caesar salad, please."

I blink. Salad? That’s it?

Before the guy can even scribble it down, I turn to him and tell him to give us another minute. He hurries away, and I lean in, my voice low and leaving no room for argument. "If there’s nothing on the menu that looks good, we can go somewhere else.”

She shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “No, everything looks great. I’m trying to cut down. You know…” She gestures to her body as though there’s something wrong with it, as though it’s obvious that it needs to be fixed or changed.

Something dark and possessive curls in my gut. I don’t like the way she says it, all quiet and apologetic, like she has to earn her right to take up space.

I don’t even think before I speak. "No, sweetheart. I don’t want to hear that. I want you to have exactly what you want. You deserve it. Besides, you’re perfect the way you are.”

Her eyes widen, and that pretty flush creeps up her neck, but she doesn’t argue. She just blinks up at me like she’s not used to someone saying it out loud.

And maybe she’s not. Maybe some asshole made her think she had to shrink herself down to be wanted. And if I ever meet him, I’ll make sure he regrets it.

“Get whatever you want,” I say, softer but still firm. “I just find it hard to believe that you think the salad is the most thrilling thing on the menu.”

The waiter returns and shifts awkwardly, glancing between us. and Serena looks up at him and cracks a small smile. "I’ll have the steak, please. Medium. And a baked potato with sour cream and a salad."

Perfect. I love a woman who knows what she wants.

“I’ll have the same.”

I nod at the waiter, and he hurries off.

When I turn back to her, she’s looking at me with this stunned, shy expression, like she’s trying to figure out if I’m for real.

I reach across the table, my fingers brushing the back of her hand. "I want you full and happy, Serena. Always."

She fiddles with her fork for a second, then glances up at me from under those lashes. "So," she says, her voice teasing but soft, "what did I miss while I was gone?"

I lean back in my chair, smirking. "Besides the town and your family falling apart without you?"

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a blush creeping up her neck that tells me she doesn’t hate hearing it.

“Okay, seriously,” she presses, nudging her fork toward me. “Any big changes I missed while I was gone? Scandals? Fires? Who’s sleeping with whom?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “You know I steer clear of gossip.”

“But you hear everything,” she says, raising a brow.

“Well… there’ve been a few small fires,” I say casually, leaning back. “Mostly thanks to Byron trying to show off at the station grill. Guy thinks lighter fluid is a personality trait.”

She laughs, and damn if that sound doesn’t go straight to my chest.

“And you’re the one in charge of all that chaos?” she teases.

“Yep. Fire Chief Mercer, at your service.”

“Wow,” she says, eyes wide and playful. “Didn’t think the kid who had to be pulled out of a burning kitchen would end up in charge.”

I grin. “Hey, I told you back then—this was what I wanted to always do, since the firemen rescued us that day.”

“I remember,” she says softly, the teasing fading just a little. “You said the fire that day at the amusement park was your wake-up call. That it was your way of changing the world. I really do respect that.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “But becoming chief? That’s when it really clicked into place for me.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flush before she looks away, and damn if that doesn’t make my cock twitch in my jeans.

I clear my throat, leaning in a little, dropping my voice just to see if I can make her laugh again. "Although, gotta admit—being fire chief has some downsides too."

She lifts a brow. "Yeah? Like what?"

I lower my voice even more, like it’s a state secret. "Maddox keeps trying to get me to approve a calendar. 'Silvertown’s Hottest Firefighters.' He even pitched a slogan—‘Big hearts, bigger hoses.’”

She laughs, and it does something to me. Tightens something low and hot in my gut.

I open my mouth to tell her more, but just then, a guy with a guitar sets up at the next table over, strumming chords loud enough to rattle the silverware. The quiet intimacy we had dissolves under the sudden wave of noise.