Page 12 of Startup Fire

Chapter 6

Dousing Flames

Wayne was losing his mind, and it was entirely Jess Hartley's fault.

Three days since Zoey Hayes had swept through talking about art fairs and collaborations. Three days of watching Jess throw herself into work with scary intensity, cranking out piece after piece.

Three days of trying not to stare at her like some kind of creep.

“Earth to Wayne. You still with us?”

Wayne jerked his attention back to Jake and Brandon at the fire station. They were supposed to be doing equipment inventory.

“Yeah, sorry. What?”

“I said, you coming to poker night Friday?” Brandon leaned against a rack of turnout gear. “Starting to think you're avoiding us.”

“I've been busy.”

“Busy with the hot glassblower?” Jake grinned. “When are you going to make a move?”

“I'm not going to make a move. She just needed workspace for the fundraiser demonstration.”

“Right. And I'm sure that's why you've been in such a good mood lately.” Brandon exchanged a look with Jake. “Almost smiled at Mrs. Brown last week.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You're full of shit,” Jake said cheerfully. “But whatever. We'll just sit back and watch you suffer.”

Brandon elbowed Wayne. “Ask her out.”

Wayne lifted both hands. “It's not like that.”

Brandon raised his eyebrows—a warning Wayne didn't quite catch in time.

“Hey, Ángel!” Brandon shouted across the station. “Wayne says he's cool with you asking Jess out!”

Ángel looked up from the equipment he was checking, confused. “What? I'm not—”

But Wayne had already jerked toward Brandon, the surge of possessive anger that shot through his chest answer enough. Both his friends caught it.

“That's what I thought,” Brandon said, grinning. “So what's the holdup?”

“It's complicated.”

“It's always complicated with you.” Jake's tone lost some of its teasing edge. “Look, I know Amanda did a number on you, but Jess isn't her. Ask her out.”

“Keep telling yourself she's just there for workspace,” Jake said. “But for the record? You're being an idiot.”

Tuesday afternoon found Wayne in his barn, attempting to focus on a decorative bracket. The metalwork required precision—curved elements that would mirror each other on the Winslow's gate.

Except he couldn't focus worth a damn.

Jess had arrived an hour ago and was currently working on what looked like her twentieth piece of the week. She'd moved into winter motifs—snowflakes, frost patterns, delicate icicles in pale blue glass. Just experimenting, she'd said, but Wayne could see her getting lost in the work. Creative. Efficient. Mesmerizing.

Wayne raised his hammer and brought it down.

Too hard. The angle went wrong.