Chapter One

Heidi

" I f this recipe isn't as magical as it smells, I quit," I swear, my stomach rumbling as I roll another perfect sphere of dough between my palms before setting it aside on the parchment paper.

Fresh air wafts through the open back door, sending the savory aroma of seasoned meat and sweet dough wafting through the air. My stomach rumbles loudly, demanding that I eat.

I ignore it for a moment and reach for another chunk of the dough, refusing to rush.

"Don't you even think about quitting, Heidi Marsh," my sister, Adalynn, scolds me over the phone. "You're way too talented to give up."

I smile despite myself. My four sisters and our older brother are my biggest cheerleaders. I think they believe in me and my culinary skills more than anyone.

But this recipe has to be flawless for the grand opening of Sassy & Sweet in two weeks. This will be my first ever bakery. I'm not going to blow it because my kolaches are only so-so.

Are you kidding me?

My reputation as a baker in Silver Spoon Falls rests on getting them just right. That's not an exaggeration. This is Texas. If the South knows anything, it's food. It's as ingrained in our DNA as going to church on Sunday morning and hunting season. And okay, maybe I don't personally do either of those things, but I do know food.

I am not going to get blackballed from town potlucks and ruin my entire bakery by messing up the one thing on the menu that involves meat.

No way, no how.

Besides, someone already has it out for me. They keep leaving little love notes at the bakery, telling me that I'm going to fail. There's no way I'm going to prove them right. There's no way I'm telling my sisters and brother about the notes I've found over the last two weeks, either. I'll never have another moment of peace if they ever find out.

"Fine, I probably won't quit," I promise Adalynn, trying hard not to think about the creepy notes. "But only because someone has to do something with all those recipes mom gave us, and you guys aren't ever going to do it."

I can't wait to share them with this little corner of the world when the bakery opens. Our adopted mom is an amazing cook. She taught me everything she knew. She tried to teach my sisters and our brother, too, but our sisters never could master more than basic kitchen skills.

"No way," Adalynn says with a laugh. "The less time I spend in the kitchen, the better. And Gemma and Charlie are lucky they married men who know how to cook. Otherwise, they'd survive on takeout." She pauses. "Or burn down their kitchens."

I laugh because she's right. Our youngest sisters are terrible in the kitchen. They have enthusiasm…but Charlie marches to the beat of her own drum most of the time. I love her to death, but she's a safety hazard. And Gemma is talented at pretty much everything except cooking.

Leia, our other sister, is better at it, but she doesn't have the time to dedicate to the kitchen. She's too busy chasing stories for the local paper and cheering on her hockey-playing husband.

"At least Garrett can cook," I say, referencing our older brother. Like me, he picked up a lot of mom's skills.

"Yeah, because there's no way he's letting Ciara do it," Adalynn says with another laugh. "He loves spoiling her."

"Um, hello? Aren't you currently living it up in Houston child-free with your husband because he spoils you?" I cry, laughing. Razor, her husband, whisked her away to celebrate their anniversary…which I'm pretty sure is code for making another baby.

All of my siblings are madly in love...and I've always been too afraid to even go on a date with a man. I'm not jealous at all. Nope. Not at all.

If I tell myself that often enough, maybe one day I'll actually believe it. Or grow a pair and actually put myself out there for once instead of hiding behind my dreams as if they can protect my heart.

I never imagined that I'd be the last of my siblings to get married. I want a family of my own so freaking bad, but the thought of giving my heart to someone scares the crap out of me. I blame our bio parents for that.

Frankly, they were a nightmare. They neglected us to the point that we were taken away multiple times. Eventually, they abandoned us entirely, leaving us alone in an apartment with very little food. When Adalynn finally went to the neighbor for help, their rights were terminated completely. We were separated in foster care for a year and a half before our adopted parents got us.

Life got a lot better after that. But I'm still slow to trust most people. I don't mean to be, but it just kind of happened. The thought of falling in love—of being that vulnerable with someone else—is terrifying. I couldn't even trust my own parents to protect me and my sisters when we needed them most. We were defenseless little girls, completely dependent on them. How do I trust a complete stranger to protect my heart now?

Somehow, my sisters have figured out the magic formula, but I can't. It drives me crazy sometimes. I want to be brave like they are and fall headfirst into love. Instead, I hide from even the possibility of it. I've never seen a man naked. I've never been kissed. Hell, I've never even been on a single date.

I'm a bona-fide coward.

"I am in Houston, but I am not spoiled," Adalynn sniffs, recalling my attention.

"Right." I roll out the last ball of dough and then wash my hands. "Razor spoils the crap out of you, and you know it."

"Lies."

I laugh quietly. She's full of it, and she knows it. "Why are you bugging me, anyway? I thought he'd have you tied to the bed by now."

"I made him untie me because I had something to tell you."

"TMI!" I cry, earning a savage little laugh from her. "Do not tell me about your sexcapades."

I already know way too much about my sisters' sex lives. Gemma is a member of a freaking BDSM club. Naturally, sex comes up a lot when we all get together…mostly because the rest of us are rabidly curious about what happens there.

There's no way I'll ever step through the doors, but that doesn't mean I don't want to know all the juicy details. I may be a virgin, but that doesn't mean I'm not curious. Just, you know, not about anything my sisters do with their husbands. Gross.

"That's not why I called." I can practically hear Adalynn's eyes roll.

"Thank God," I say dramatically.

"I'm going to hang up on you."

"No, you aren't." I smile at the empty threat and lean a hip against the counter to cover the dough balls to give them time to rise. My stomach growls again. I seriously cannot wait to finish these things. The best part of cooking is getting to taste-test everything. "What do you want?"

"I'm supposed to tell you to check the paper. Leia gave Sassy & Sweet a shoutout."

My heart skips a beat. "What? No, she did not!"

"Yes, she did. Go look."

I dash to the living room, leaving a trail of flour footprints behind me. "Hang on, I'm pulling it up on my laptop."

As I wait for the Silver Spoon Falls Gazette site to load, I can't help but grin. Leia is a genius. My marketing budget is non-existent right now. My brothers-in-law keep offering to give me money to help get the bakery up and running, but I don't want to rely on my rich in-laws to help. I want to do this on my own.

Of course Leia found a way to help me out anyway. She always does. And I'm not even mad about it. I owe her so big for this.

"Found it!" I exclaim, scrolling through the article with watery eyes. "Oh my gosh. She called Sassy & Sweet 'the most anticipated addition to Silver Spoon Falls this decade.' Can you believe it?"

"You deserve it," Adalynn says softly. "You've worked so hard for this, Heidi."

"Don't you dare make me cry!"

"I'm not trying to make you cry, I promise. I'm just saying that we're proud of you, and I know the bakery is going to be a massive success. How could it not be when you're in the kitchen?"

I'm about to respond when a thunderous crash echoes from the kitchen. "What the—?" I spin around, nearly dropping my phone.

"What the heck was that?" Adalynn asks.

"I don't know!" I'm already racing toward the kitchen with my heart pounding against my ribcage, only to skid to a stop in the doorway. My mouth pops open as I stare in shock.

A massive black Labrador, easily the size of a small pony, has his enormous paws planted firmly on my kitchen island with his head buried in the mixing bowl. Obscene slurping noises echo around the room as he practically inhales the meat meant to go inside the kolaches. He somehow managed to smash most of the kolache dough that I just rolled out. Some of the balls even have paw prints on them.

"Oh no," I whisper.

"What? What's wrong?" Adalynn says, her tone rife with worry.

"There's a giant dog in my kitchen eating my kolaches!"

"What?"

"A giant freaking dog is eating my kolaches!"

Adalynn snorts laughter.

"This is so not funny," I hiss.

"Are you kidding me? This would only happen to you. It's hysterical," she says, still laughing.

I choose to ignore her. Mostly because she's right, this would only happen to me. It's utterly ridiculous.

"Hey!" I shout to the dog, my voice an octave higher than usual. "Those aren't for you, buddy!"

The dog lifts his head, strings of saliva dripping from his jowls, pieces of meat stuck to his black nose. He gives me a look that can only be described as pure, unrepentant joy.

Then he dives right back in.

I can't help but giggle, even as I lunge forward to stop him. "Oh no, you don't! That's not for furry freeloaders!"

As I reach for the bowl, the lab wags his tail with so much enthusiasm that he smacks it against my spice rack. Jars of paprika, cumin, and oregano clatter to the floor, sending a pungent, multicolored mess of spices into the air.

"You've got to be kidding me," I groan, torn between exasperation and amusement as I take in the mess.

"Where did he even come from?" Adalynn asks through peals of laughter.

"I have no idea!" I cry. "I have the back door open, but my yard is fenced." I stare at the dog in shock. "Where did you come from, you adorable menace?"

The dog gives me a goofy grin in response, his tongue lolling out. I swear, he looks proud of himself, as if he knows exactly what he did and doesn't regret it in the least.

I spot a tag on his collar, but before I can even look at it, he decides he's done with the island. He hops down with surprising grace, trampling through the spices he spilled everywhere, and then trots into my living room like he owns the place.

My cat, Skeet, is going to love this.

"Come back here, you furry thief!" I call, chasing after the dog. But by the time I reach the living room, he's already climbing up on the couch, leaving spicy footprints all over the pale blue fabric.

I watch as he stretches out, taking up nearly the entire length, and huffs out a sigh before closing his eyes.

He has no shame. None at all.

"I guess you've decided you live here now, huh?" I mutter, smiling despite myself.

His tail twitches.

"What's happening?" Adalynn demands to know.

"The big thief just ate most of my meat, knocked my spice rack over, and now he's napping on my couch like he owns the place," I mumble, slowly approaching him to try to get another look at the tag on his collar.

My sister cracks up. "I swear, this is almost as good as the time that raccoon attacked you for your cupcakes, Heidi."

I lean down to read the tag attached to his collar. My brows climb when I see Silver Spoon Falls Fire Department engraved beneath his name.

"His name is Rivin. He's a fire dog."

"He belongs to the fire department?"

"According to his tag."

"How did he get way out there? You're miles from the fire station."

"I don't…" I trail off as I remember Mrs. Abernathy and her friend gossiping over the fence a few days ago about a new firefighter moving in next door. Something about him being "such a sweet boy" for battling the Granite Hills wildfire raging outside of town.

He and I are apparently on different schedules because I've yet to meet him. But Mrs. Abernathy was quick to let me know that he's handsome and single. I beat a hasty retreat after that comment. No offense, but I am not taking potential partner advice from a woman who has been married seven times.

"I think he belongs to my new neighbor. He must have climbed the fence," I mutter to Adalynn.

"Oh, you have a hot firefighter for a neighbor? Why didn't I know this? We are so having the next sister brunch at your house."

"Uh, what the fuck?" Razor rumbles in the background. "Other men don't even exist to you, pretty baby."

"Oh, busted," I say, giggling.

"Mind your business, Razor Montgomery," Adalynn sniffs to her husband. "Hot firefighters don't count."

"They totally count," I mutter, happily taking Razor's side. What? He's a famous rockstar who treats her like a princess. Of course I'm taking his side.

"I gotta go," Adalynn squeals as Razor rumbles something unintelligible to her. "Good luck with the fire dog! Love you. Bye!"

"Talk to you—" I shake my head, smiling as she hangs up on me before I even get to say bye. I do not want to know what they're doing right now. It's probably dirty.

I glance back down at Rivin. "So, what am I going to do with you, huh?"

His only response is to wag his tail lazily. He doesn't even bother opening his eyes.

"Come on, buddy. We've got to get you home," I say, patting my leg in an attempt to get him off my couch.

He doesn't even twitch this time.

"Great," I mutter. "Now I have a kitchen to clean and a giant furball to wrangle before I can finish my recipe. And said furball doesn't want to be wrangled."

I briefly consider leaving him here while I run next door to request assistance from his owner but quickly decide there's no way I'm leaving him unattended in here. God only knows what chaos he'll cause next, especially with Skeet in the house. I don't know if fire dogs like cats, but Skeet doesn't like anyone or anything that isn't me. Better not to risk it.

Instead, I grab my phone and text Dillon Armstrong, the sheriff. He's sort of family. He's married to Razor's sister, and my younger sister, Charlie, is married to his wife's boss's twin. Small-town life is so much fun.

Me: Can you have someone at the fire department call me?

Dillon: … Why?

Instead of trying to explain, I snap a photo of Rivin and send it to him.

Dillon: JFC. Is that Rivin?

Me: Guilty as charged.

Dillon: Do I even want to know why he's passed out on your couch?

Me: Nope.

Dillon: I'll have someone call.

Me: Thanks! I owe you.

He doesn't respond, which I assume means that he's on the phone with the fire department, so I head back into the kitchen to start cleaning up. With paw prints through the spilled spices and my footprints in flour, it looks like a culinary crime scene.

I grab the broom to start sweeping. Not even two minutes later, my phone rings.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Dillon Armstrong told me to call you about a situation you have there," a man says in a deep, rumbling voice.

"Hi, yes," I say, trying to juggle the phone and sweep at the same time. "Um, a big black lab named Rivin just broke into my kitchen. I think he belongs to one of your firefighters?"

"Jesus Christ. He broke into your goddamn kitchen?"

"Yes. And he ate my kolaches."

"Maybe don't let him do that?"

"I didn't!" I cry, scowling into mid-air. "Did you miss the part where I said he broke in?"

"He's a dog. How the fuck did he break in?"

"I asked him, but he didn't answer," I snap, irritated at the question. "Maybe you'd like to try interrogating him. He's currently passed out on my couch like he owns the place."

There's a pause, then the man sighs. "Of course he is."

"So…can someone come and get him?"

"Yep. On it."

Before I can say anything else, the line goes dead.

I stare at my phone in disbelief.

"Well, that was helpful," I mutter sarcastically. "Cranky jerk." With a huff, I drop the phone on the counter to finish sweeping, annoyed by the man who called. I hope he's better at fighting fires than he is at talking on the phone.

I briefly wonder if he's the neighbor. It makes sense, considering the man was as inconsiderate as the dog.

I manage to get the spices swept up and am in the process of wiping down the counter when a sharp knock sounds at the front door.

"Coming!" I call, tossing the dishrag aside.

Rivin is still passed out on the couch when I hurry by on the way to the front door, only he's sprawled out on his back, his hind legs in the air. I shake my head at the sight, unable to be annoyed at the adorable, inconsiderate menace. His owner, on the other hand…

The front door rattles with the force of his next knock.

"Hold your freaking horses!" I shout, practically snapping the darn deadbolt as I rip it to the side. Good grief. He's impatient for a man who didn't even know his dog was missing!

I swing open the front door, ready to give him a piece of my mind…and nearly swallow my tongue instead. The most gorgeous man I've ever seen is standing on my front porch without a shirt, his jeans riding low on his hips. Intricate tattoos cover his chiseled chest and ribcage. They're sprawled across his muscular arms and down his side. Every single one is breathtaking. So is his body, every inch of him golden brown and carved from muscle.

My eyes slowly travel up, and I fight the urge to whimper. He's so damn beautiful. Dark, unruly hair sweeps over his forehead, giving way to warm brown eyes and a face that's all sharp planes and perfect angles.

If this is my new neighbor, Mrs. Abernathy lied. He is not a handsome, sweet boy. He's a freaking gorgeous giant of a man. One currently making my lady bits tingle.

"Um…" I stutter, staring at him like a crazy person, all thoughts of telling him off long forgotten.

"Goddamn," he growls, his hot gaze prowling down my body. "No one told me I moved in next to an angel."

Just like that, the spell is broken.

This is my new neighbor, and he's the jerk I just spoke to on the phone. Worse, it seems like he's just like every other firefighter I've ever heard about. They flirt with anything that moves and use their hero status like it's a Get into Bed Free card.

I bet that's what he was doing while his dog was breaking in over here—sexting some girl.

Why does that thought make me so irrationally jealous? He can sext whoever he wants. Except...the thought makes my stomach hurt.

Ugh.

I quickly cross my arms, hiding my boobs as his gaze lingers on them.

An unapologetic grin slides across his face.

"My eyes are up here," I snap, immediately irritated that I'm not nearly irritated enough. I like the way he's looking at me a little too much. I'm a big girl. Not many men look my way with heat in their eyes the way he is right now.

"You were looking first, Sunshine."

"I was looking at the fact that a crazy man showed up on my doorstep without a shirt," I retort, holding his gaze levelly. No way am I admitting that I find him attractive. Nu-uh. "Can I help you, or did you just come to stare at my boobs?"

His deep chuckle rolls over me, turning my nipples to hard points. "You're a prickly little thing, aren't you?"

"Yes. It's been known to happen when cavemen show up at your door and stares at your tits." I bat my lashes at him. "Do you need something, or can I slam it in your face now?"

He throws his head back, chuckling. Jesus. He has a great laugh. "Touche, angel. I came for the asshole dog. Big black lab with a penchant for causing trouble?"

I point towards my living room, arching an eyebrow. "You mean that big black lab?"

His eyes follow my finger, and his face lights up with a mix of relief and amusement. "Jesus Christ," he mutters, shaking his head. "You weren't kidding about him being passed out on the couch like he owns the place, were you?"

"Nope. He made himself right at home after he ate my kolaches."

"Rivin," he calls to the dog, who immediately pops his eyes open to look at him. "What are you doing, man? This is not good behavior type shit. You're already on thin ice with Chief. You really think this is going to help?"

Rivin huffs and closes his eyes again, clearly not interested in listening to the gentle rebuke.

The hot firefighter chuckles, and I can't help but notice how his dimples deepen when he smiles. It's annoyingly charming.

He'd probably love knowing that.

Ugh. Why couldn't a crabby old firefighter have moved in next door? The last thing I need is this gorgeous hunk of a man a few yards away, intruding on my fantasies. And I already know he will be, darn it all. He's way too freaking hot to handle.

"Why's he on thin ice?" I can't help but ask.

"He's a damn good fire dog," he says, running a hand through his tousled black hair. "But off duty, he does what the fuck he wants. Chief isn't amused."

"Ah. Does he make a habit of breaking and entering often?" I ask, genuinely curious how he ended up over here and what kind of trouble he's gotten himself into before now.

"B&Es are new." He grins again, still flirting with me as if that's going to get him out of trouble. "But he spends most of his time helping me out at wildland and forest fires. He can do—and does—all kinds of shit he shouldn't be able to do. I'm Alessandro Banger, by the way. We just moved in next door."

"Heidi," I whisper. "Heidi Marsh."

"Your sister is married to Colter Bayliss, right?"

"One of them."

His eyebrow climbs. "One of them? How many do you have?"

"Four."

"Jesus Christ." His gaze skirts down my body again. "Do they all look like you?"

"Why?" I narrow my eyes on him, more annoyed than ever. "It's not like any of them are going to sleep with you, either, Alessandro Banger."

"Jesus. You're really pissed about the kolaches, huh?" he asks, smirking at me.

"Nope. I'm not mad at your dog at all." I stare at him levelly, which only makes that darn smirk grow.

"Ah, so you're pissed at me."

I shrug noncommittally.

"What'd I do to piss you off, angel?"

"You don't have the kind of time it'd take for me to explain it to you," I say sweetly. "You have a dog to collect and fires to fight."

He stares at me for a second and then shakes his head, taking a step toward me. "Nah, we're making time," he says, his voice deep and intense. So is the way he's looking at me. "How'd I piss you off? Tell me so I can fix it. I'm not leaving with the dog until you do."

He means it. He's going to leave his menace of a dog on my couch until I tell him why I'm annoyed.

"I thought you were supposed to serve and protect, not harass and annoy," I mutter.

"Wrong department, Sunshine."

"What?"

"That's the police department motto, not the fire department. Our motto is ‘play with fire and you get burned'."

"What? No, it is not!"

"Are you sure about that?" His brown eyes are dark and heated as he takes another step toward me. "Because you're playing with fire right now." His gaze drifts down my body again, setting entire tracts of it on fire. "And I'm fucking dying to see how you burn, baby."

I gulp, my pulse racing at the look in his eyes. This is not how this was supposed to go. This is not at all how this was supposed to go.

So why do I like the way he's looking at me right now?