Emory snorts. “Not me, though. I’ve been volunteered as tribute.”
Aiden chuckles and gives her a fond look. “An ancestor is rolling over in a grave somewhere,” he says dryly.
“You up for the challenge, Bailey?” I slide her a cocky glance, knowing it will fire her up.
“How many do you normally do?” she asks.
My smile grows. “At least thirty.”
Her answering grin is just as cocky. “Put me down for thirty-one.”
I watch closelyas Katie approaches the flame inside the first barrel we lit. Aiden is monitoring the second group of barrels with folded arms. All of them are spread on the sandy ring, each placed over a small gas line that lets a controlled flame out. We’ll toast them, and then as soon as they light on fire, Aiden and I will monitor by smell to see when the fire needs to be put out.
She edges closer, face covered in a mask and goggles, wearing the flame-retardant jacket I made her put on. Itcovers her practically to her knees. Regrettably for me, she looks fucking adorable with her big mismatched eyes behind her goggles and all the intensity of a student doing a lab experiment.
“It’s almost there, Tristan.” Her voice is excited, and I drag her back before she can char herself alongside the barrel.
“Careful there, killer.”
I see the indent of a tongue poking against her mask and chuckle. “I saw that.”
“Does it smell like vanilla yet?”
I take a hearty sniff. No mask for me. I need all my senses. “Not yet. A bit more. Ready with the water?”
She hefts the sprayer into the air. It’s connected to a massive tank underground. I drag in more breath. Under the salty air and the smoke, there are notes released by the oak heartwood. Marzipan, vanilla, cream soda, spice. I pull them to the back of my mouth before I nod.
“That’s it.”
Katie turns the water on full blast, nearly soaking me, before she hoses the barrel and cheers.
“One down.”
“So many more to go.” She yanks down her mask, before she grins at me. Her eyes are alight with happiness.
“You like this?” I give her a bemused smile, searching her face.
She nods, then lowers the sprayer. We don’t have much time to talk, and yet I can’t look away from her. She looks like she belongs here, in this field of flame. It lovingly gilds her hair and gives her skin a shine that matches her eyes.
“I’ve never had a lot of family traditions.” She fidgets with a lock of her hair that’s fallen from her braid. “It’s nice.”
“You know I used to be so annoyed by bonfire night as a kid?”
She grins. “You were?”
I nod, my throat tightening. I wish I’d lived more in the moment back in those days. “It felt endless. Just another piece of work that I couldn’t understand why we did. And now—” I look out at the barrels. “I made most of these by hand. It makes me proud to build something that lasts. Something we can share with others.”
Her eyes are gleaming with moisture as she nods.
“No crying on bonfire night,” I say gently.
“You make me feel big emotions, Tristan Prince.” She sounds almost accusing, and I laugh, even as my heart accelerates.
I step in and pull at her braid, tugging the elastic off the end. “I do? Annoyance? Humor?”
She gives me an arch look. “You have hidden depths. It’s my favorite thing about you. And I like to be the one who gets to see them.”
We share a smile. My throat is tight. I can see Katie here, with me, laughing with my siblings, enjoying holidays. I want to see her eyes get wide when she opens a Christmas present. I want her here with me to compete on how many barrels we can do, to always force me to be better, to make me remember to lead with my heart.
