Robin pushed open the front door, her steps dragging as she crossed the threshold. The warm glow of the overhead lamp blended with the last remnants of daylight, casting long shadows across the small living room. The hum of Forks, so different from the ceaseless noise of Seattle, had begun to feel almost like a quiet lullaby.

She dropped her bag near the door with a muted thud and sank onto their newly-purchased, well-worn, secondhand couch. The rough fabric scraped against her fingertips as she rubbed her temples, trying in vain to smooth away the knots of tension from her first day at work.

Claire was already sprawled in her flowered armchair, a steaming mug cupped in her hands. She took one look at Robin's face and grinned, patting the cushion beside her.

"Hey, girl. How was day one? Did you charm the new crew or send them running? Or—" she arched a brow mischievously—"did they scare you off?"

Robin let out a long, slow breath and leaned back against the couch. "It was… a lot. Sue, my boss, is exactly as no-nonsense as she seems. But Embry, one of my coworkers—he's incredible. The way he interacts with patients, the way he explains everything so calmly… It's like second nature to him. I've never seen anyone so at ease in a clinic setting."

Claire smirked, blowing across the surface of her tea. "Embry, huh? Sounds dreamy. But, most importantly… is he hot?"

Robin groaned, tossing a pillow at her. "Oh my God, Claire. Really?"

"What? It's a valid question." Claire dodged the pillow with a laugh. "And what about you? How'd you do?"

Robin's fingers twisted together in her lap as she replayed the day in her mind. "Honestly? I think I held my own. I was nervous at first, but once I got into the rhythm, it felt… right. New, but right." She hesitated, chewing on her lip before continuing. "But there's something else."

Claire immediately perked up, eyes gleaming. "Ooh, I sense drama. Spill."

Robin swallowed, her pulse quickening. "I ran into someone today."

Claire leaned forward eagerly. "Oh, this sounds good."

Robin exhaled sharply. "Remember that guy from the bar?"

Claire's grin widened. "Which one? The dark, broody, intense one?"

Robin nodded. "Yeah. Him. His name's Paul Lahote."

Claire blinked, then burst out laughing. "You are shitting me! Paul Lahote? As in 'la-HOT-e'? Oh my God." When she calmed down, she raised an eyebrow. "And you know this… how?"

"Well, get this—he works at the clinic too, with the firefighting and search-and-rescue team." For a split second, Robin's heart pounded so loudly she thought it might burst.

Then, as if on cue, Claire erupted with laughter once more. She clutched her stomach, gasping between giggles. "Girl, you do know that firefighters are basically walking thirst traps, right? They literally save lives while looking ridiculously good in suspenders. And now you're telling me he works at the clinic? This is fate."

Robin's face burned. "You're impossible."

"Oh, come on, if you're working alongside someone as attractive and intense as him, a little curiosity isn't going to hurt," Claire teased, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe even let him show you a bit of that firefighter charm?"

"If you like him so much, maybe you should fucking marry him," Robin ground out.

"Maybe I will; you'll just need to introduce me," Claire wiped a fake tear from her eye. "Please, please tell me there's a firefighter calendar. And please, please tell me you can get your hands on one."

Robin groaned. "I don't know why I ever tell you anything."

"Because I'm your best friend, and you live for my commentary." Claire's teasing softened into something more genuine. "But really, Robin. Sometimes, the best things in life are unexpected. And when a guy like Paul looks at you the way he did that night…"

Robin cut her off, shaking her head. "I don't date coworkers, Claire. Too complicated."

Claire rolled her eyes. "You're no fun."

Paul pulled his truck into the clinic's parking lot, the early morning mist curling around the edges of the windshield. He shut off the engine and exhaled, gripping the steering wheel for a moment longer than necessary. His stomach had been a battleground for days, torn between the weight of the imprint and his determination to fight against it.

I'm going to be indifferent, he told himself. Keep it professional. No warmth, no attachment, no chasing.

But as he stepped out of the truck, his jaw tightened. Even as the cold air nipped at his skin, the heat simmering beneath the surface refused to fade.

Inside, the scent hit him before he even saw her—a soft, powdery aroma that mixed clean laundry with a hint of perfume. He inhaled slowly, trying to steady the prickling heat along his spine. His grip on control wavered for just a second before he pushed forward, his movements deliberately measured as he entered the common area.

Robin and Jared were already there, both nursing steaming mugs of coffee. Paul gave a short nod. "Morning."

"Morning," they replied, Jared's mouth already curling into a knowing smirk. "Coffee's still hot."

Paul grunted, brushing past them toward the small kitchenette, but their conversation carried.

"…we're still missing a bunch of stuff," Robin was saying. "The thrift store we got it from doesn't offer delivery, so Claire and I have to figure out how to get everything to the house without breaking my car in half."

Paul paused mid-pour.

Jared snorted. "Oh, you bought from old man Johnson? That cheap bastard?"

Robin sighed. "Unfortunately."

Paul turned, unable to stop himself. "Wait—Johnson's your supplier?" His voice came out sharper than intended.

Robin blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Because he's a pain in the ass," Paul muttered. "He won't lift a finger unless you bribe him."

Robin shrugged. "Well, it is what it is."

Paul clenched his jaw. The thought of her and her friend struggling to haul a bunch of heavy furniture made something in his chest tighten uncomfortably.

"We'll help you move it," he said before he could stop himself.

Robin's eyebrows shot up. "What? No, it's fine, really."

Jared jumped in before she could argue further. "Yeah, come on. I've got a truck, Paul's got a truck—piece of cake."

Robin hesitated. "I don't know… Claire and I can manage."

Paul crossed his arms, fixing her with an unimpressed look. "Or you can just let us do it and save yourself the headache."

Robin shook her head. "No, I can't-"

"You can. We'll do it," he grumbled, turning to Jared. "Right, man?"

"Right; we'll be happy to," Jared grinned. "After all, what are coworkers for? Not just for fetching coffee, I say."

Paul shot him a glare, but Jared just grinned.

Robin stared at them for a moment, like she was searching for some hidden meaning in their offer. Then she sighed. "Fine. But, like, if this is some macho 'girls can't carry stuff' kind of thing—"

"It's 'let the stronger people carry stuff' kind of thing," Paul rolled his eyes.

"Well, thank you," she mumbled. "I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," he waved it off.

As Robin turned back to her coffee, Paul forced himself to look away, gripping his own mug tighter.

He was an idiot. This wasn't the plan. But somehow, keeping his distance from her was already proving to be damn near impossible.