Page 1 of My Three Hometown Firefighters (Aspen Springs #2)

GRAYSON

TWO YEARS AGO

The bubbles pop against my tongue as I sip my club soda because like hell was I going to drink more alcohol this weekend. I consumed more over the last seventy-two hours than I probably have in the last seven years combined.

At thirty-three, I can confidently say I cannot hold my liquor like I used to. I woke up every morning feeling like my head was being run over by a bulldozer, so club soda it is.

I groan, resting my head on my hand. What a fucking day. Not only was I unable to find a direct flight from Boston to Denver, but now my connecting flight is delayed.

And one glance out the window onto the tarmac shows me it’s probably going to be canceled. The ice clinging to everything is getting thicker by the minute.

So, an airport bar in Nashville with peanuts as their only dinner offering is where I find myself.

On the television over the bar, the newscasters are talking about the storm and how much worse it’s panning out to be.

No shit. Lucky fucking me for picking to connect through Nashville and not Dallas.

Sensing someone moving onto the seat beside me, I resist the urge to growl at them in hopes that they will scurry away.

No. The general public doesn’t need to be terrorized by my bad mood right now.

I’m frozen in place, though, by a flurry of long red hair when I turn to see who’s taking the barstool beside mine. It’s the woman from the plane.

She walked by me on her way to her seat on the flight here from Boston, and I thought my jaw was going to hit the floor. She’s fucking gorgeous.

She grumbles under her breath about the “goddamn plane” and this “goddamn weather” as she situates herself in on the stool with her carry on slung over the back of the seat. She leans forward, her forehead smacking the wooden bar top.

“Fuck,” she groans. Pulling her head back up, she rubs at the sore spot with her hand.

Her eyes tentatively glance my way, but I don’t think she’s really seeing me. “I didn’t mean to do it that hard, “ she mumbles quietly.

“Are you okay?” I ask, trying not to smile because even in her apparent distressed state, she’s adorable and sexy as hell.

Never really knew a woman could be both at the same time.

Her head swivels toward me, and I’m met with two pools of deep green that seem to have no end in sight. Her breath hitches in her throat.

She blinks several times. “Yeah. Just a crappy day.”

I nod, giving her a small smile. “Are you connecting to Denver, too?”

“Supposed to,” she grumbles, reaching into her purse.

“Can I get you a drink?”

She glances at me, clearly trying to figure out my motives for offering.

“It’s the least I can do, since we’re both stuck here right now.”

She stares at me for another moment before shrugging. “Okay.”

When the bartender comes over, she orders a glass of white wine that I tell him to put on my tab.

“So, why were you in Boston?” I ask. She drags in a slow, deep breath, like she’s preparing herself for what she’s going to say.

“It was supposed to be a romantic weekend with my boyfriend. I ended up dumping him instead because he couldn’t keep his eyes off every woman within a ten-mile radius.”

Idiot. Why would you even glance at another woman if you had this one on your arm?

“Did he cheat on you?”

“I don’t think so, but honestly, who knows?” She takes a sip of the wine when the bartender slides it in front of her.

I hold up my half-empty glass toward her. “Fuck him.”

She smiles, holding up her own glass. “Fuck him,” she echoes, clinking it against mine.

We both take a sip, our eyes locked the whole time. How we both manage to drink while still smiling I don’t know, but it’s sure as shit happening right now.

“What about you? Why were you in Boston?” she asks.

“Bachelor party.” I hold up my glass. “Hence why this has none of the good stuff in it.”

“Too old to be drinking all weekend?” she jokes with barely contained glee in her eyes. Is she flirting with me?

“I might be too old to drink like I did in college, but not too old for other things.”

She blushes, diverting her gaze down to her still mostly full glass of wine.

As I set my glass back down, a gust of wind howls outside, pelting more snow against the window. There’s no way we’re getting out of here tonight.

I grab my phone and start searching for a hotel nearby. Just as I suspected, most of the rooms are already booked. Everyone else is doing the same thing right now.

“Are you booking a hotel?” she asks, leaning over to look at my phone screen.

“I am.” I press the final button to reserve a room for the night in case I need it.

She rolls her eyes, and fuck me. I want to know all the things that can make her eyes roll back in her head like that.

I internally groan. Those are not the type of thoughts I should be having right now.

“That’s going to be a waste of your money,” she says, shaking her head.

“I’d rather be prepared.”

“Are you, like, a control freak or something?”

Something like that, love. “A little bit, I guess.”

She nods. “I still bet you’re wrong.”

“What are you willing to bet?” I ask, my gaze heating as I take her in and note the way she’s staring back at me. I’m not the only one feeling this.

“If the flight isn’t canceled, you have to give me your first-class seat.”

I can’t help the smirk that spreads across my face. “So, you noticed what seat I was in on the plane earlier.”

A blush creeps over her cheeks, but she gestures her hand up and down toward me. “Duh… I noticed.”

Well, damn.

“Good to know.” I take a sip of my drink for courage, like there might suddenly be alcohol in it, as I lean in closer. “If I win, you come share my unnecessary hotel room with me tonight.”

I press forward even more until my lips are right at her ear. Her breath stutters out.

“Because I sure as fuck noticed you when you walked by my seat earlier, love.”

Well… I was right .

Not ten minutes later, they announced that our flight was officially cancelled. We were all put on a flight for tomorrow afternoon.

I’m going to need to see if I can find anything earlier because I need to get home to check on my mom. She has MS, and though she resists, she needs my help from time to time.

She’s reassured me over texts that she’s fine, but I just need to see with my own two eyes.

There’s nothing I can do about it tonight, though, so that’s a problem for tomorrow’s Grayson.

I turn to look at the stunning redhead beside me, whose name I realize I don’t even know. I try to contain my smirk as she glowers at me.

“So, I guess I win.”

Two green lasers drill into me for several heartbeats until a smile cracks across her face. “I guess you did,” she says with a shrug.

Suddenly feeling wary about our bet, I add, “You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to. I’m sure I could find you a different room.” I grab my phone. “Or…”

Her delicate hand grips mine. Glancing up, I see her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“I don’t want to go to a different room. I want to go with you.”

I search her eyes for any hint of hesitancy. None. Then , I glance at her still mostly full glass of wine on the bar.

She giggles quietly. “I didn’t even have half a glass, and no, I didn’t have any on the plane.”

I give her a curt nod. Decision made. I hold my hand out for her. “Ready then, love?”

She drags in a deep breath, then slides her hand into mine.