Resisting the Cowboy Fireman Bonus Scene

“Marcus.”

Silence.

Ember squeezes my hand. Hard.

“She’s still alive,” I offer. “And she’s happy.”

That earns me a glare.

“Not helping,” Ember whispers.

“Right.”

Marcus exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his jaw. “You’ve got about five minutes before I decide this was a bad idea.”

“Five minutes?” I nod. “Generous.”

Ember snorts. But Marcus doesn’t. He looks fit to be tied.

Inside, things don’t get much better. He watches everything—how I pull out Ember’s chair and make sure she orders first. The way I lean in when she talks like what she’s saying matters. Because it does. And I don’t even realize I’m doing half of it. That’s the problem. Or maybe… the point.

“You’re being weird,” Marcus says finally.

I glance up from the menu. “Weird how?”

“You,” he gestures vaguely, “are not like this.”

I shrug. “Maybe I am now.”

Ember kicks me under the table. Hard.

Marcus’s eyes narrow. “Don’t joke.”

“I’m not.” I don’t look away, smirk, or try to deflect. Instead, I sit there and take Marcus’s test. Must be a Carter thing. Ember made me expert at them.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous, though. Because this? This matters. More than my pride or whatever reputation I built by running my mouth for years.

Ember goes still beside me. Marcus notices that, too.

He’s always been good at reading people. But tonight, I’d swear he has X-ray vision if I didn’t know better. He’s staring straight through my soul, looking for any crack, flaw, or red flag. But I know something he doesn’t.

He won’t find one.

At least when it comes to my feelings for Em. She’s everything to me.

“Why her?” Marcus asks. There’s no real anger this time. Not like in the alleyway behind Java Junction. But he doesn’t look exactly thrilled by any of this either.

I don’t answer right away. Not because I don’t have one. But for once, I want to get it right.

I glance at Ember. She’s watching me as if she doesn’t quite trust what’s about to come out of my mouth.

Fair enough. She knows me so damn well.

“I don’t want to get all mushy on you. Or say something a brother doesn’t want to hear about his sister. But when I think about my life, my future, all I see is her. And if I had to—if it was ever asked of me, I’d give my life for hers in a heartbeat. Wouldn’t even think twice about it.”

Marcus folds his arms. “But you’re a firefighter, bro. You do the same regularly for complete strangers.”

“Oh, come on,” Ember butts in.

Marcus glares at her, and her cheeks glow.

The only thing worse than taking an unexpected punch from Marcus in the alley is watching a fight between the Carter siblings. I’ve seen enough to know it gets ruthless quickly.

“And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her,” I add, voice going raw. “Even walk away if that’s what she asked.”

Ember blinks once, twice. “That’s what you meant by ‘alright’?”

I remove my Stetson and set it brim up, ruffling my fingers through my hair.

Marcus says, “Huh?”

Ember turns to him, head bobbing between us as she explains, “Every time I tried to push Waldon away, he always had the same answer. No matter how awful I was being. ‘Alright.’ It frustrated the hell out of me because I wanted him to fight back, resist. It would’ve made returning the favor so much easier. But he never did. He only repeated those two syllables… almost like a veiled way of saying ‘I love you.’”

Marcus rolls his eyes.

I swallow hard, Adam’s apple working. She’s right. It was my only way back then. But I don’t say that here, out of respect for my best friend.

And I don’t need to. She knows. I can see it in the fiery glint of her eyes, the new way she quirks her mouth at me.  

“You two are disgusting,” Marcus says, shaking his head.

Ember chokes on her drink.

I blink. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

Marcus lets out a ragged sigh. “Good, like corn-syrup sweet good. The way you keep looking at each other, speaking without words. Getting each other. It’s the kind of thing most people never find. It’s the kind of thing I didn’t think you were capable of, Hayes.”

I nod. “I said a lot of things. Played a part. Thought it didn’t matter.” I shake my head once. “It mattered.”

Silence settles over the table.

Ember’s not moving now. I swear she’s holding her breath.

“I don’t expect you to like it,” I add. “Or me.”

Marcus huffs out a short laugh. “Oh, I definitely don’t like it.”

“Figured.”

“But…” He leans back in his chair, studying me. “You didn’t swing.”

I frown. “What?”

“In the alley,” he says. “When I came after you.”

Ember stiffens.

“I wasn’t going to hit you,” I say simply.

“Why not?”

“Because it would’ve hurt Ember. So, no, never.”

Marcus’s gaze flicks to his sister. Then back to me. “Yeah,” he mutters. “It would’ve. I didn’t think that through at the time. I let anger and assumptions get the better of me. But you did think it through. Showed self-control, discipline, sacrifice even.”

Anything for her. I meet her gaze, heat simmering.

Dinner gets easier after that. Marcus keeps that big brother observation going throughout the night. Still testing, listening, taking notes. Mental notes—at least he doesn’t pull out his phone to check things off.

And Ember? She relaxes enough to laugh and to lean into me without thinking. Enough to forget, for a second, that this whole thing started at a bachelor auction.

Outside, the night air is cooler and quieter. Fall threads the air in the smell of the dry leaves. Marcus lingers by his truck. Ember starts to say something, but he cuts her off with a look.

“Give me a second.”

She hesitates, then nods and walks a few steps away.

Marcus turns to me. “You hurt her,” he says, calm as anything, “I will bury you.”

“Fair.”

He studies me again, longer this time. Then—unexpectedly—he nods. “I get it now.”

I blink. “You do?”

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” he says. “But I get it.”

That’s… more than I expected. “Good enough. For now.”

When I walk back to Ember, she’s watching me like she’s trying to read every inch of my face. “Well?” she asks.

I take her hand, pulling her in just a little closer. “He didn’t kill me,” I say.

“Low bar.”

“Working my way up.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. But she doesn’t pull away. I slide my thumb over her wrist and lean in just enough that she feels me.

“Stay,” I murmur.

Her breath catches. “Just for a little while,” she says.

I grin.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’ll take it.”

For a second, neither of us moves.

The parking lot hums around us—engines, distant laughter, the crunch of gravel under boots—but it all fades. Because she’s right here. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her shirt. Close enough that I don’t have to imagine what it would be like to touch her.

My hand slides from her wrist to her waist, slow enough to give her time to pull away. She doesn’t. But she doesn’t lean in either.

Classic Ember.

One step forward. One step back. Always keeping me on my toes.

“Just a little while,” she repeats, like she needs to remind herself.

I nod once. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

That’s a lie.

We both know it.

Her fingers curl into my shirt, gripping the fabric like she’s bracing herself. For whatever this is about to become.

“Waldon…” she starts.

My name sounds different on her tongue tonight. Softer. Less like a challenge. More like something she’s getting used to.

“Yeah?” I ask, voice lower now.

Her gaze drops to my mouth.

That’s all it takes.

I lean in—slow, careful—giving her every chance to stop me. Her breath hits mine first, warm, uneven. Then her lips. Soft at first. Testing.

God.

Every smart thought I’ve ever had goes straight out the window.

I tighten my hold on her, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us. She makes this quiet sound—half protest, half something else—and suddenly she’s kissing me back like she means it.

My hand slides up her back, fingers brushing the edge of her hair, and she shivers against me. That little reaction? It wrecks me.

I deepen the kiss just enough to test her back.

And there it is—

That moment of decision, where she leans in instead of away. Where her hand leaves my shirt and finds my jaw, holding me there like she doesn’t want me going anywhere.

I break the kiss before it gets out of control. Because if I don’t? We’re not stopping.

Her eyes fly open, breath coming fast. Mine’s not much better.

“Waldon…” she says again, softer this time.

“Yeah,” I murmur, resting my forehead against hers.

She swallows. “That… wasn’t on the list.”

I huff out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I figured.”

Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “You’re not supposed to be good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“This,” she says, gesturing between us. “Making me forget why this is a bad idea.”

I tilt my head, brushing my nose against hers. “Maybe it’s not.”

Her grip tightens again. And for a second—just one—she leans into me like she believes that.

Then she pulls back. “What would you think about getting rid of the list?”

“That’s a start.”

Her eyes search mine, like she’s waiting for me to push.

“Alright,” I say.

Her breath catches again. Because now she knows what it means.

She steps closer, wrapping her arms around my neck. She reaches up onto her tiptoes, mouth feathering across mine. And then she says it against my lips, soft and seductive.

“Alright, too.”

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