Page 11

CHAPTER TEN

Back at the fire station, hours later, we get a round of applause from the crew.

“You two were on Facebook!” Frank says as he wiggles his phone in our direction. “The Great Green Puppy Rescue!”

“Good, fucking grief,” Brock mutters as he tears off his avocado covered T-shirt. “I’ll never live this down. The fire chief isn’t supposed to be the laughing stock of the town.”

I’m still grinning.

Big, brave Brock, sliding all over the place, chasing that puppy was too flipping adorable. I can’t wait to see the pictures people snapped.

Oh my god—and the puppy kissing his grumpy face… that was too much for any heart to take.

“Hey, Chief, you still have green stuff on your face, you know?” I say with a wink to Frank.

Brock rolls his eyes. I have a feeling he’s fighting the impulse to flip us both off, but he just walks.

He shouts over his shoulder, “I’m not the only one, guacamole queen.”

As Frank and Reeves laugh, I finger-comb my ponytail. “I’m a mess. I got ashes all over me at the warehouse arson scene, plus all this avocado. Ick. This stuff is setting up like concrete in my hair. I need to get this out fast.”

Hustling toward the second floor bunk room, I’ve got one thing in mind—A hot shower. After gathering my towel, toiletries, and fresh clothes, I hurry down the hall to the locker room where the showers are located.

The locker room on the left.

Reeves pointed out the women’s locker room on my station house tour. Not that I could tell because there is no signage.

“We’re doing the whole building,” he said when he pointed to a pile of discarded plastic signs laying in the corner. The pile hasn’t moved since yesterday, so I take it that the project isn’t a top priority.

My clothes are already getting stiff with dried avocado when I pull them off. I can’t wait to get it off my skin. It’s itchy and flaky.

Thankfully, it only takes a few seconds for the shower to get up to temp. I groan happily as I slide under the perfect, hot spray.

One thing the Lynn’s Cove Fire Department has going for it is a great water heater. Last night, I shaved, conditioned, and soaked until I was a prune. It was a dreamy indulgence. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t plan to do it tonight too.

My last apartment had a pathetic excuse for a water heater. The damned thing must have been the size of a Big Gulp cup. I got to be an expert in strategic showering.

But here…

I tilt my head back and let the fat stream of hot water course over my face as steam fills the air. God, it feels good. A girl could get spoiled on this.

When I open my eyes, I look around for my shampoo. Nowhere in sight. I peek outside the shower to see if I left it on the bench. Not there either. “Drats. I can’t believe I forgot shampoo.”

There’s no way I can skip washing my hair this time. The avocado’s got to go.

Snatching my towel, I half dry off. I’m only going to be gone a few seconds, so I don’t even bother turning the water off.

A quick peek out the door confirms that no one is around, so I dash for the bunk room. I know that I’m probably leaving wet footprints on the floor.

I can just hear the chief bitching about the ‘fall hazard,’ but hardly anyone uses this area of the building from what I can tell.

Luckily, my shampoo is right where I left it. On the windowsill. Gripping my towel and the big pink bottle, I rush back into the hall.

I skid to a stop when I hear men’s voices. Oh crap! For a second, I don’t know whether to go back to the bunk room or sprint for the shower.

When I realize it’s Reeves at the bottom of the steps talking on speaker phone, I go for it, and lunge through the door into the steam filled locker room. The water is still hissing out and the room is blanketed totally in thick mist.

“Whew… that was close.” I mutter as I unfurl my towel and reach up to hang it on the hook. Only there’s another towel there and a bunch of men’s shower stuff on the bench.

That’s when I scream.

Standing in front of me is a man.

Lord. Not just any man.

The high pitch sound coming from my throat peters off into a totally pathetic whimper.

Brock Mitchell. With a bar of soap clutched in his hand, lather spread across his thick chest, and a look in his eyes says he’s appreciating the view of my very naked body.

I stammer, “I am so sorry… I guess, I g-got the wrong locker room.”

He slowly looks me over. Toe to head and back down. His voice is all rough when he says, “Depends. It might be the right locker room.”

I gulp as Brock smooths his hands over his body, rinsing the lather and my sanity right down the drain.

“Depends on what?” I croak.

“Whether you’d like to join me and really run our careers off the road once and for all.”

Oh. My. God. “Uh…”

He grins, then tips his head back under the spray and closes his eyes. “I’ll just keep my eyes closed and pretend that I didn’t just see your glorious naked tits if you want.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Or the sweet little vee at the juncture of your legs.”

I’m sure my mouth is slack in the most unattractive way.

He continues on. “But, Avery, I can’t unsee what I just saw, so even if I pretend, it’s not going to fix this problem,” he says as he grips his growing cock.

And when I say growing… I mean, GROWING.

I’m frozen. Mother of erections. That sucker is huge.

Entranced by the sight of Brock surrounded by steam, his body glistening, I stare at him with the massive erection that I caused in his hand.

I have no clue why I haven’t grabbed my towel and dashed out the door yet. There must be glue on the bottom of my feet. It’s the only rational explanation.

Brock tips his head up and sluices the water off his face with his other hand. Then nails me with a look that says he’s dead serious about this disaster in the making. “I promise not to kiss you.”

Of course he’d say that.

My gaping mouth wants to smile on its own, but I force it back into an ‘o’ shape. “Funny guy, aren’t you?”

“I’m not feeling too funny right now. I’m feeling aroused as fuck. Dangerously so.”

I feel suspended in time until a loud thump in the hallway makes me jump.

Glaring at the door, Brock motions for me. He grabs my towel and hangs it under his and pushes me between him and the wall so if anyone comes in, they won’t be able to see me.

There are more thumps in the hallway.

He presses his lips close to my ear. “They’re hanging up the new signs.”

“Oh crap.”

“Shhh. Just be quiet. No one will know.”

Oh my god. I’ll know.

I’m freaking unclothed as the day I was born and in the shower with my boss .

I cannot stand here naked with him pressed against my back and keep my sanity for a moment longer. Impossible. No woman could. He’s too much. This is too much.

My voice sounds like an insane person. “For how long?”

“Too long. Too fucking long,” he rough-whispers into my throat.

“Don’t you dare kiss me.”

His breath dances over my skin when he speaks. “I said I wouldn’t.”

I’m trembling now. But I can’t be sure if it’s from pure arousal or adrenaline because we might get caught.

And of course, Brock seems calm as a freaking giant cucumber.

“No one’s coming in.”

“Please god, let you be right.” My breath hitches. A little gasp tightens my throat. “Oh my god, did your erection just get bigger or is that a baseball bat against my back.”

He chuckles, “It’s a good tool for a home run.”

For a second, I sputter, “You’re absurd.”

He growls and presses that big hot body of his against me. “And you’re sexy as fuck.”

“Is this a date? Because I’m not sure exactly what’s happening right now.”

“I’m planning all the ways I want to take you after our next real date.”

“Brock. This is ridiculous. We’re going to lose our jobs.”

He drops his head and lays an open mouth kiss on my neck. “I probably should have warned you. I’ve always been a rule breaker.”

“Chief. Remember. You’re the chief. The responsible one here,” I grumble.

He slides a warm, rough hand down my arm. It’s completely sexual without touching any of my girl parts. “Sometimes, you have to say fuck it.” He inhales against my neck and I almost shout. “Besides, I inherited this job. It wasn’t even on my radar.”

I’m breathless. Consumed by heat that’s building in my low belly. “But I guess, I am on your radar…”

“You most certainly are, Avery Ellis.”

Voice shaky, I warn him, “Don’t kiss me.”

He lets loose that wicked, deep, sexy chuckle again. “I won’t. Not on the mouth, at least.”

The door to the locker room swings open with a bang. “Signs are up, Chief.”

Eeeeeeep!

“Thanks, Frank,” Brock says loudly. The door closes again with a thud and we’re alone.

I’m panting, holding onto the wall, about to faint. Brock reaches up and flips off the water.

“Take it easy there, little one.” He towels me off, then wraps me up. “I’ll go first to make sure no one’s around. If I don’t come back, you know the coast is clear.”

All I can do is nod like a stupid bobble head, my neck barely holding my head up.

He tips my chin up with his knuckle. My lips are trembling. I don’t want him to kiss me, but I’m dying to feel that possessive, hungry mouth of his on me again.

Voice low, he says, “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight at the corner of Beach Boulevard and First. Look for a black pickup. Don’t stress out. We’ll take this slow.”

He doesn’t give me time to say no. He pulls on a pair of running shorts and disappears out the door.

He doesn’t come back.

I manage to teeter on weak legs back to the women’s locker room where I finish shampooing my hair and try not to think about Brock.

Or obsessively look at my watch to count the minutes until seven.