Not from fear. From relief.
“You okay?” Ryan’s hand finds the small of my back, grounding me.
“Better than okay.” I turn to face the crew, these people who hardly know me but showed up anyway. “Thank you. All of you.”
Blake grins. “That’s what family does, Firecracker.”
Family.
The word settles into my chest, warm and right.
“Speaking of family—” Romeo nudges Blake. “Didn’t you say there are some brownstones available near your place?”
“Yeah, a few blocks off the square.” Blake winks at me. “If someone was looking to stick around.”
I meet Ryan’s gaze. He’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read—hope mixed with fear, like he’s afraid I might leave.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, knowing I’m staying.
“Blake!” Uncle Jimmy’s voice cuts through the moment. He’s approaching with a woman I don’t recognize—dark hair in asleek ponytail, tactical pants and a fitted fire department polo. She moves with the kind of easy confidence that comes from walking into burning buildings for a living.
Blake’s entire body goes rigid.
“This is Ashley Torres,” Jimmy says. “Our new arson investigator. Ashley, this is my nephew Blake—he’s been handling our preliminary investigations.”
“Blake McCallister.” Ashley extends her hand, and I catch a hint of Texas in her voice. “I’ve heard good things about your work on the Morrison Street fire.”
He shakes her hand, his smile tight. “Torres. Welcome to Peachwood Grove.”
Their handshake lasts a beat too long. Ashley’s smile is professional, but her eyes are assessing—taking Blake’s measure the way someone sizes up an opponent they respect but won’t back down from.
“I’m looking forward to working together,” Ashley says, releasing his hand. “Chief mentioned you’re waiting on exam results?”
“Any day now,” Blake replies, his tone neutral.
“Good. We’ll need all the qualified investigators we can get with this warehouse situation.” She glances around the festival. “Impressive turnout. This whole town showed up.”
“We take care of our own here,” Blake says, and there’s an edge to his voice I can’t quite place, despite his smile.
Ashley’s smile sharpens slightly. “I can see that. I’m looking forward to being part of it.”
Uncle Jimmy claps Blake on the shoulder. “Why don’t you show Torres around? Introduce her to the rest of the crew?”
For a second, Blake looks like he’d rather walk into a burning building. But he nods. “Sure. This way.”
As they walk off together—Blake stiff and formal, Ashley relaxed and observant—I lean into Ryan.
“That looked... tense,” I murmur.
Ryan watches his brother, something between amusement and concern crossing his face. “Blake’s been working toward that investigator position for two years. Jimmy brings in someone from outside who already has everything Blake wants.”
“She has his dream job,” I respond, watching the way his shoulders are set, the careful distance he’s maintaining from Ashley. “And he has no idea what to do.”
“Probably not,” Ryan agrees. Then his lips quirk. “But knowing Blake, he’ll figure it out.”
I glance back once to see them still talking—his arms crossed, her weight shifted to one hip, both of them wearing expressions that say “professional” while their body language screams something else.
I know that look. That’s the same way I looked at Ryan when I moved into his guest room, telling myself it was temporary, practical. Just until the inn was fixed.
