Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 33213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Eventually she corners me by the supply drawer, hands on her hips.
“Okay,” she whispers harshly, “what are you really doing here?”
I look down at her—too close, too aware of her body heat brushing mine.
“Told you. Safety check.”
She folds her arms. “Captain.”
“Briar.”
Her breath stutters.
And I shouldn’t enjoy that as much as I do.
She tries again. “If you keep coming here, people are going to talk.”
“Let them.”
“That’s not— I have a job. And a kid. And you…” She gestures to me like I’m a problem she doesn’t have instructions for. “You show up everywhere.”
“You noticed.”
“Of course I noticed!”
I step in before she can retreat, boxing her against the drawer. Not touching. Just close enough she forgets how to breathe properly.
“You want me to stop coming?”
Her eyes flick to my mouth.
She swallows.
Hard.
“That’s not— I didn’t say—” She tries to find the right words and fails miserably. “You make it hard to think.”
My pulse spikes. “Do I?”
“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re flirting. Like you…want to eat me.”
I lean down until she feels my breath. “If you think this is me flirting, sweetheart, you’re in trouble.”
Her knees actually wobble.
I catch the edge of the drawer behind her so she doesn’t topple.
Her chest rises too fast.
“This is wildly inappropriate,” she murmurs.
“You keep saying that.” I move closer, lowering my voice. “But you don’t walk away.” She opens her mouth. No sound comes out. I smirk. “Thought so.”
She pushes lightly at my chest—not enough to move me, just enough to feel the hardness under her palm.
I go still.
Her eyes widen at her own boldness. “I— I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize,” I say, voice rougher than I intend. “Feels good.”
She gasps softly.
I straighten before I forget where we are, putting an inch or two of space between us.
She sways like she wants that inch back.
Her hand still rests on my chest.
Slowly—too slowly—I reach up and wrap my fingers around her wrist, guiding her hand down.
Heat shoots across both of us at the contact. Her breath trembles. I let her go.
“Your extinguisher works,” I say, voice steady even though I feel anything but. “So does your outlet. Everything checks out.”
“You didn’t check anything,” she whispers.
“Didn’t have to.”
“Then why—”
I meet her stare dead-on. “Because I wanted to see you.”
Her lips part.
She looks young like this—caught between curiosity and fear, but not afraid of me. Afraid of what this is.
I step back, giving her air. “See you Monday, Miss Tate.”
“That’s… three days from now.”
I stop in the doorway and look back.
“On second thought, maybe I won’t wait three days.”
She freezes. Her blush creeps down her throat again, flushing her chest. I see it. I feel it. And it takes every bit of discipline I’ve ever built to walk out of that classroom.
As I hit the hallway, I hear her exhale like she’s been holding her breath for the last five minutes.
Good.
She should feel that.
Because I sure as hell do.
And I’m nowhere near done circling her.
Chapter Five
Briar
The Fall Festival at Devil’s Peak Elementary is supposed to be charming. Wholesome. A night of caramel apples, raffles, and children bouncing off hay bales like over-caffeinated bunnies.
Instead, it feels like the entire town is slowly closing in on me—like a pastel-colored, pumpkin-spice-scented trap.
I adjust the strap on my tote bag, inhale the sugary air, and try to convince myself I am not drowning.
“Briar,” my fellow kindergarten teacher, Melissa, says as she swoops in, cheeks flushed from chasing her class, “I swear next year I’m volunteering for coat check. Why do we do this to ourselves?”
“Character building?” I offer.
She snorts. “I don’t need more character. I need a margarita.”
I exhale a laugh. “God, same.”
Melissa links her arm with mine and lowers her voice conspiratorially. “So. How’s it going? You look…” She pauses, searching for the right word. “Frazzled. Adorably frazzled.”
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
I groan. “Junie’s with her class, hopped up on sugar, and I can’t convince my students that the hay bales are not an obstacle course. And the PTA keeps circling me like I’m the fresh meat.”
“You are the fresh meat.”
Before I can respond, she nudges me. “Speaking of circling… I heard something.”
I raise a brow. “From who?”
“My husband. He talked to Captain Cole earlier.”
My stomach flips. “Saxon was here?”
“Oh yeah,” Melissa says casually. “Handing out these ridiculous firefighter hats to the kids. They loved him, of course. He could’ve run for mayor tonight.”
Of course they loved him.
Everyone loves him.
Except me.
I do not love him.
I just… notice him.
Constantly.
“What did he say?” I ask, too quickly.
Melissa grins knowingly. “He told my husband that you need someone… what were his words? Someone dependable.”
My breath catches. “What?”
“That’s what he said.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“He did.”
I shake my head, heat crawling up my neck. “He must’ve meant something else. Or maybe your husband misheard.”
She gives me a look that says I know exactly what I heard, sweetheart.
“He said it like he meant it,” she continues. “And trust me, the Captain isn’t exactly a chatterbox. The man does not waste words.”