Page 12 of The Mountain Man’s Heat (Blue Mountain Burn: The Firefighters of Hartley Ridge #1)

Hudson

“The Fire and Rescue New South Wales Medal for Conspicuous Bravery, awarded only for acts of the most striking bravery by a firefighter in circumstances of extreme peril, goes to Hudson McKinney.”

Raucous clapping breaks out in the Sydney Town Hall’s ballroom as the spotlight finds the table where the Hartley Ridge brigade are all sitting.

Puffing out a breath, I turn to Iris—in the chair beside me, her fingers threaded through mine—and give her a lopsided smile.

“Do I really have to go up on stage and accept this?” I whisper.

Lifting an eyebrow at me, she smooths her other hand over the beautiful swell of her belly, gives it a gentle tap, and says, “Hey, if I can face putting heels on tonight when seven months pregnant with twins, you can go up on stage and receive the highest honor a firefighter can get.”

“Get your arse up there, McKinney,” Jake orders on my other side. “Before I go up and accept it for you.”

I laugh, lean forward, brush a kiss over Iris’s lips, and then make my way to the stage.

The clapping grows louder.

Waving a quieting hand, I nod at the state premier and receive the medal he presents to me. The bushfires last season were the worst Australia had ever experienced, but every day out fighting the blaze, the one person who kept me going was Iris.

Turning, squinting into the spotlight, I take a deep breath and let it out with a shaky chuckle. “We don’t become firefighters for medals,” I say. “Although I’m not going to turn this one down.”

A relaxed laugh rumbles through the hall.

“But,” I say, with a grin, “I am going to share it with my crew.”

From my table, Hartley Brigade bursts out in cheers.

“And,” I continue, “with my wife, Iris. Two years ago, she said yes the day after I saved her aunt’s dog during a storm. She is my reason for breath.”

The spotlight swings to Iris, and she smiles at me, her hands on the pregnant swell of her belly.

For the last two years she’s been working as a make-up artist on Sydney’s highest-rating breakfast TV show, but she’s about to begin the next stage of her life, our life.

“I love you, Hudson,” she calls out. “And this is very impressive and romantic, but I think there’s something you should know. ”

I frown.

The hall falls quiet.

“I think,” she continues, slowly rising to her feet, a sheepish grin pulling at her lips, “my water just broke. Sorry. Bad timing, I know.”

I blink. And bolt from the stage.

God, I love my life.