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)
“Me.”
Saxon’s eyes drag down my body—slow, heavy, like a hand.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, “if I were projecting, you’d know.”
I choke on air.
He smirks. Actually smirks. “Cute.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re flustered.”
“I am not flustered.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not—”
He moves fast—just a small step, but enough to put his mouth level with mine, close enough I feel the heat radiate off him.
“Prove it,” he murmurs.
My breath trembles. He watches my lips part involuntarily. Watches every reaction I try desperately to hide.
His voice drops even lower. “Didn’t think so.”
I shove a peach against his chest to get some distance. “Here. This one’s perfect.”
He doesn’t take it right away. Instead, he glances from the peach…to my hand…to my mouth… Then finally accepts it.
But he makes sure his fingers brush mine—slow, deliberate friction.
A spark shoots up my arm and I suck in a sharp breath.
His eyes flicker, satisfied.
“See?” I say, trying and failing to sound unaffected. “Peach saved. Crisis averted.”
“Not sure about that,” he mutters.
“Why not?”
“Pretty sure the real crisis is you.”
My stomach flips. “Saxon—”
He steps back abruptly, like he needs space before he does something reckless. Good. Great. We’re both sane again.
Except he keeps staring at my mouth.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” he asks.
“It’s four o’clock. I’m waiting for Junie to finish her art class and then I’m headed home.”
He studies me again, softer this time. “Your kid’s sharp.”
“She likes you.”
He looks away, jaw tightening. “She shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because kids get attached.”
“And you don’t?”
His stare snaps back.
“The last thing you want, Briar,” he says, voice low enough only I can hear, “is for me to get attached.”
My heart stutters. “Why?”
“Because when I take something seriously,” he says, stepping close again, “I don’t let go.”
My breath catches. He holds my gaze like he’s deciding something in real time.
Then he grabs the peach bag, tosses it into his basket like it offended him again, and turns.
“Stay out of trouble,” he says over his shoulder.
“I’m not the troublemaker here.”
He looks back—eyes dark, jaw set, mouth almost a smile.
“No,” he agrees.
“You’re the temptation.”
And like the arrogant, self-controlled menace he is, Saxon Cole walks away. Leaving me breathless in front of the peaches.
Again.
Chapter Four
Saxon
Itell myself I’m here for a reason.
Routine safety check.
Standard procedure.
Necessary.
Bullshit.
We did one three days ago. Everything passed. Everything was fine.
But here I am, walking down the gleaming hallway of Devil’s Peak Elementary with a clipboard I don’t need and a purpose I’m lying to myself about.
Teachers peer out of doorways as I pass, whispering like I’m a stray wolf that wandered into a chicken coop.
Whatever.
I’m not here for them.
I find the classroom before I even look at the door number.
Her voice carries. Light. Warm. A soft hum that pulls under my skin.
I pause outside her door, jaw clenching before I knock.
“Come in!”
I step inside.
Twenty tiny heads swivel at once.
And then hers.
Briar Tate looks up—and blushes instantly. Pink. All over. Like someone hit her with a heat gun.
Jesus.
I shouldn’t like that as much as I do.
She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice too bright. “Captain Cole. Wow. Um. Hi. Again.”
Her eyes flicker down my chest—quick, but I catch it.
“Safety check,” I say, holding up the clipboard.
Her brows rise. “Again?”
“Yup.”
“Didn’t the last one happen… Monday?”
“Yup.”
“You do them twice a week?”
“No.”
She blinks. “So… why are you here?”
I should lie.
Say something easy.
Instead: “Felt like it.”
Her breath snags.
And she looks away fast, bending over Junie’s desk like she suddenly finds crayons fascinating. That blush crawls down her throat, disappearing under her neckline.
I grit my teeth. Look anywhere else. I don’t.
“You can keep teaching,” I say, because the kids are staring at me like I’m a zoo exhibit. “Pretend I’m not here.”
She laughs nervously. “Yeah, that won’t be happening.”
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Why not?”
“Because you’re… distracting.”
My eyebrow lifts slow. “Distracting how?”
Her eyes widen like she didn’t mean to say it out loud. “I, um—just—you’re very… loud.”
“Loud.”
“In presence,” she blurts.
I let the corner of my mouth tilt. “You could’ve just said big.”
Her face goes scarlet.
One of the kids raises his hand. “Miss Tate, is he the fireman who yelled at you?”
Briar chokes, coughing wildly. “He did not yell at me—he was just… correcting… a mistake.”
Another kid asks, “Is he your boyfriend?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.
Briar wheezes, “No! Absolutely not!”
“Not yet,” I say under my breath.
Her eyes snap to mine. “Did you just—?”
I shrug. “Didn’t say anything.”
She narrows her eyes. “Pretty sure you did.”
“Pretty sure you’re hearing things.”
Her lips press into a line, but her cheeks are on fire.
Jesus, she’s fun to mess with.
Fun.
Dangerous.
Too damn tempting.
I move around the room pretending to check fire extinguishers that don’t need checking. She keeps stealing glances like she thinks I won’t notice.
I notice everything.
The way she bites her lip when I lean down to check the outlet cover. The way she shifts in place when I walk behind her. The way her voice shakes every time she says my name.