Chapter Twenty

Lexi had to hand it to Matt. When he disappeared, he vanished. He’d had a five-day break in his rotation, so she didn’t see him at work, but to go from seeing him daily to living with him to sleeping with him to nothing was the kind of jarring that made tears spill at the most random times and had her scowling at the dazzling Rocky Mountain sunsets.

She’d killed a few hours helping the police department bundle blankets and teddy bears for kids. She’d spent a few more dodging her parents’ questions. But mostly she sat on her sofa and had threesomes with Ben and Jerry—so far she’d gained a new favorite flavor and about five pounds—and avoided her own bedroom window, because it stared directly into Matt’s, and that made her sadder than she ever imagined.

Lexi’s phone dinged. A match from her dating app. She scrolled through the guy’s profile. He seemed decent. Her thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, but she couldn’t do it, so she deleted the app.

She wouldn’t find anything on there that she hadn’t already lost.

She tossed down her phone. As soon as it hit the sofa, it dinged again. She nearly dropped the phone when she saw the name at the top of the notification. Matt.

Her hands shook as she opened the message.

Can you go check on Waffles?

Well, it was something.

But it was something that required her to go back into that house. For the past couple of days Waffles had visited via the backyard. She wondered if that was the next thing that would change.

Before she could think too much about that—or anything else—she stood. Crumbs fell off her shirt. She looked down at her stained sweat pants and old Denver Broncos tee with the hole in the armpit and decided the odds of her running into a neighbor were slim enough, so she went next door glamorously as-is.

She swung open the back door of his house to a view of Matt, looking ridiculously hot in a pair of cargo shorts and a forest green Smoky Bear shirt. Leaning against the counter, tanned and muscular, he looked like he’d been plucked out of an issue of Men’s Health.

Lexi’s limbs went weak.

“Is this not where I was supposed to find Waffles?” She managed the question without stammering, drooling, or shoving her knee in his nether regions, so she considered that a win. As much as she’d missed him, she was pissed—more so now that he had the nerve to act so casual, like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t only absconded with her ability to fall for any mere mortal, but had left her so wrecked that neither Ben nor Jerry could fill the void.

He kind of shrugged, kind of smiled, and said, “I kind of made that up.”

“Okay.” The sheepish look on his face had her more than a little suspicious. Suspicious enough to look around and see for the first time that his kitchen was an absolute wreck. Bowls upon bowls of blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries sat on the counter, mixed in with warehouse-sized containers of baking supplies. Flour, butter, powdered sugar…pounds of it. She peeked in the fridge. It looked to hold little more than eggs, heavy cream, and mascarpone. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“You said you wanted to make Elsie’s tart recipe.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “And then I burned down the kitchen.”

“Kind of a pivotal moment in the story of us,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed a hitch. “Who told you to say that?”

He smiled. “Yeah, that was a bit over the top. I probably heard it in one of your movies.”

Hesitantly, she asked, “Can we get back to the part where you tell me what’s going on?”

“We’re going to make the tart, just like you wanted before the fire. Only, so we’re clear, you’re not allowed to put anything in the oven. I’ll do that.”

She blinked. “You think you can make Elsie’s tart?”

Grinning, he said, “Why not? You thought you could.”

Ugh. No way she’d concede that point. “Wait. So you let me walk out of here two days ago without a word—”

“To be fair, you walked out of here barely dressed, legs for miles. I’m not sure there’s a sighted man within a hundred miles of this place who could have found his tongue in a moment like that.”

“I don’t know,” Lexi said. “A better man might have found something to do with his tongue that didn’t involve speech.”

He stared for a moment, his gaze dropping briefly south, before he met her eyes, his mouth twitching into a playful grin. “Point taken.”

“And then you don’t talk to me for days.”

“I didn’t hear from you, either. And as you so brilliantly pointed out, you walked out.”

Lexi blinked. She’d been holding it together by a thread since the last time she saw him. A disheveled, fraying thread that had no chance of stitching together her broken heart. It hadn’t even occurred to her to reach out first. But here he was, offering her an olive branch. But an olive branch to what? Love? “So… What is your game plan? You make dessert, I admire your muscles and swoon over your prowess in the kitchen, and then we get back together?”

His brow hitched. “Back together?”

Heat rose, surely staining her face bright red. Oh God. She’d totally misinterpreted his intentions. Time to backpedal. “No. I mean, we were never together, right? Back on speaking terms.”

“Actually,” he said. “No.”

She looked at him in surprise. “No?”

“No.” He gave an affable shrug. “We’re just going to…make the tart. If you want to, that is.”

“You just want to make a tart?” She glanced around the kitchen, once again taking in the tremendous supply of ingredients, and wondered if he might actually be serious.

“Again, as long as you promise to stay away from the oven. And probably the food processor. So what do you think?”

“I think you’ve lost your mind.”

He gave her clothes a pointed look. “You had plans?”

Ignoring that point, however well deserved, she realized something. “You went to Elsie for the recipe, didn’t you?” That was what Elsie had meant. Elsie knew.

“I had to. Yours was lost in the fire.” He took her hand. “But before you wow me by not setting fire to my kitchen, I want to show you something.”

She didn’t say anything—by that point, she wasn’t sure what she could say—but she did follow him. Or she intended to, until something on the stove caught her eye and she pulled up short with a gasp.

…

Matt hadn’t noticed Lexi come to a dead stop until her hand slipped from his. “What is that?” she asked. “Is that…oh my gosh, Matt!”

He stood, perplexed, until he noticed the direction of her attention.

Elsie’s tart pan. Or her grandmother’s, or Napoleon’s depending on who you believed. Eyes bright, Lexi went straight for it and scooped it off the stove. “Is this the same one?” she breathed.

The absolute depth of shock and joy in her voice annihilated all the aggravation he went through during the hours he’d spent chipping the remnants of Lexi’s homemade lava off its surface. He’d forgotten about the pan the moment she’d walked through the door, but now that he saw what it meant to her, his throat grew tight.

He pushed back his own surge of emotion with a wry smile. “Is that really the best thing about this moment?”

“I can’t believe you saved it. I felt so guilty—” She broke off with a watery smile. “You could have led with this,” she said.

“Why?” he asked, “when there’s something better outside?”

She glanced from him to the pan and back, skepticism written all over her face. “There’s no way you can top the eradication of the guilt I felt over ruining that pan, to say nothing of the fact that Elsie would make sure I remembered it at least as often as she did.”

“I think I can top the eradication of guilt,” he said. He didn’t mention the second part. Elsie didn’t exactly pull punches, so Lexi was probably right on that point. He reached for Lexi’s hand again, and this time she let him lead her into the yard and around the corner. He’d tucked this little surprise in a sunny spot on the opposite side of his yard from her house, where he hoped she was unlikely to notice it. If she had, she hadn’t mentioned it.

They stopped in front of an enormous planter, from which jutted the remains of the Japanese tree lilac that had been ripped from her flower bed the day of the fire.

“Remember this guy?” he asked.

He’d hoped for at least half the reaction the tart pan had garnered, but instead she just stared at the tree, then him.

Uh-oh. “I know how much research you put into finding just the right spot for it,” he hurried to say, “and how much it meant to you.” He’d been with her the day she’d asked the current owner of her grandparents’ old place if she could have it, and while she hadn’t said as much, he’d seldom seen her so emotional—at least not until the day it had been scraped into the gutter. “I wasn’t sure if it could be saved, so I got one of the guys from the extension office to give it a once-over, make sure the soil mix was right, all that stuff. When it gets a little stronger, we can transplant it back to the bed.”

Wordlessly, Lexi watched him talk.

He was no expert at this kind of thing, but she looked like she was going to cry. Anxiety clawed at him.

He offered a small, hopeful smile. “The guy said it would probably be okay, just to maybe not set anything else on fire around it.”

She broke into a sudden laugh that almost sounded like a choked-back sob. “He did not say that!”

“Okay, I added the second part. But the point stands.”

She looked at her tree, then reached out and ran a gentle finger along its branches. When she looked back at him, her eyes were wet. “This is amazing. Thank you. For someone who hates romance movies, you sure nailed the ending.”

“The ending?” It was his turn to stare. That couldn’t be good.

She closed the distance between them. She fit so easily, so perfectly in his arms that he ached. “I said that wrong,” she said, looking up at him with something he was tempted to describe as adoration. “It’s not the ending. It’s the beginning.”

He kissed her gently. “It’s the continuation,” he said, “but the best is yet to come.”

She gave him a watery smile, slipping from his arms and grinning broadly. “The best? Are you referring to this tart we’re about to make?”

He hesitated. She still wanted to bake? He very much preferred they take this to the bedroom—where he’d be content to set continuous fire to the sheets—but he had about fifty pounds of fresh fruit straight from the farmer’s market sitting in his kitchen. No sense in wasting it. With any luck, they had a lifetime to make trips to the bedroom.

Resigned, he followed her back to the house. As they walked in, he said, “No offense, Lexi, but if you’re referring to dessert, this one can’t possibly be worse than the last one.”

“Funny.” Her happiness was brilliant. Reaching for the stove, not so much. He quickly grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?”

Pointing to the recipe on the counter, she said, “Preheating the oven.”

He stared. “Lexi, you can put your hands on anything else, but do not touch my oven.”

Eyes sparkling, she donned an impish grin and asked, “Anything?”

“Anything else.” He watched her wash her hands, ready to protect himself if necessary, but—unless she changed her mind and decided to drag him to bed—not prepared to give in.

She didn’t seem to notice his precaution. Instead, she glanced at the recipe then serenely scooped flour in one of the bowls he’d set out. There were dishes everywhere. He hadn’t intended to get so much out of the cabinets, but he’d yet to find everything after she’d rearranged the kitchen.

And that was just fine with him. Because she was there, and they were going to be okay, and the enormity of that—of what they’d had and almost lost—was enough to take his breath.

“I’m glad you burned down your kitchen,” he said suddenly, his voice thick with emotion.

It was her turn to stare.

“I have never even thought about spending my life with anyone but you,” he said. The words came out fast. “Every time I thought of my future, you were there. I never saw anyone else. I never saw any of it without you.”

“I have always been here,” she said softly. “I was just as capable of taking that step as you were, but if it didn’t work out… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing everything else we had.” Somehow, she already had a smudge of flour on her nose. A tear spilled over and tracked down her cheek. He wiped it away.

“I was afraid, Lexi. Afraid of screwing this up and losing you.” He stifled a laugh. “I guess we were really the last to admit that we belonged together. I’m still afraid, to be honest, but I think we can do this.” The gravity of everything hit him hard and fast. She wasn’t leaving. He’d come so damned close to losing her, to missing out on their forever. How could he have ever thought there was an alternative?

“We can definitely do this,” she said, and then he knew she’d forgiven him. “We kind of have to do this, because, again, I will not be stepping between you and Elsie’s purse, and for that matter, you’re on your own with my dad, too.”

Matt pretended to groan, then he smiled. He felt like he’d burst. “A month ago I would have said nothing was worth risking our friendship—”

“And I would have agreed.”

“But the sex is—”

“Phenomenal.”

“We should still have sex,” she said. “If it doesn’t work out.”

He laughed. “That is definitely not a line from one of your movies.” He cradled her face, kissed her nose. “I love you. I’m in. All the way, every way. I’d take the risk for one moment with you. Everything else is…more than I deserve.”

Lexi grinned, wrapped her arms around his neck, and dragged her floured hands through his hair.

He feigned irritation. Her laughter was the most amazing sound in the world.

“I love you, Matt,” she said, kissing him, “and that is exactly what you deserve.”

Okay, maybe that was the most amazing sound in the world. Lexi loved him, and she managed to halfway threaten him with the news.

Life was damned good.

Other than the part where they were in the kitchen instead of the bedroom, but she was determined to make that dessert, and if it tasted like bricks it would still be the best he’d ever had.

It had given him Lexi.

Twenty minutes later she spilled a pot full of simmering berries all over the stove and the floor, splashing her bare feet.

She gave him a sheepish look. “Um…”

He scooped her up, sat her on the counter by the sink, and examined the affected skin. It was pink, but he didn’t see any blisters.

He glanced up into the stunning eyes of the most beautiful, dangerous woman he’d ever known, and simply said, “You knew this was going to happen, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to have to marry a firefighter. We have emergency medical training,” he explained, “and you absolutely need someone to put out fires and fix you after your kitchen disasters.”

She was so hung up on the jab that she almost missed the gist. Then she froze, and the surprise and wonderment on her face made his heart sing. Eyes sparkling, she asked, “I’m going to marry a firefighter?”

He caught the waver in her voice and had to swallow a knot of emotion. How could she be surprised?

It was past time to erase that question from her mind. He’d hoped to do it a little closer to the bedroom, but the kitchen now seemed wildly appropriate, considering how this had all started. He swallowed, hoping he just imagined the sudden thud of his heartbeat echoing off the appliances. After faintly clearing his throat, he said, “Lexi, there is not a moment left in my life that I don’t want to spend with you.”

She choked back a laugh. “There aren’t many you haven’t spent with me.”

He smiled. “Despite which, I want the rest. All the rest.” He hesitated, unsure about the knee thing, but then decided Lexi—who wanted the picket fence and the two-point-four-kids—would definitely want the knee thing. So he assumed the position, managing to get the ring out of his pocket and into his unsteady grip without dropping it and having to watch it roll under the refrigerator. “I love you. I’ve always loved you, and while it would probably be safer, since we’re in the kitchen, to hand you a fire extinguisher, I’m hoping you’ll accept this ring and agree to be my wife.” Her eyes had long grown wide, and the exaggerated thudding in his chest came to a dead, momentous stop. “Lexi, will you marry me?”

She grinned. Wickedly. “Have you seriously had that in your pocket this whole time?”

“I don’t think you’ve been paying attention to those movies you like so much,” he said, a glimmer of relief kicking his pulse back to life. Clearly, they were still Lexi and Matt. Just better, perhaps less fully clothed. “Because this is the part where you say—”

“Yes. I say yes.”

He slipped the ring on her finger and stood and grinned. “Like I said, then. Definitely marrying a firefighter.”