Page 4

CHAPTER THREE

Son of a bitch. When Avery took off out of the office, I knew she was either pissed or falling apart.

I nearly had a coronary when I saw her curled up in a ball on the floor. Right now, I’m not convinced I’ll recover.

Damn it all to hell. She looked so small and vulnerable. The protector in me fucking freaked.

I’ve seen plenty of panic attacks before, so I knew what to do. But it doesn’t make it any easier to see her like this. Especially, knowing that I caused her distress.

Once Avery’s breathing eases, I ask the question that’s burning me up. “Is this why you left the restaurant that night? ”

She hugs her arms tighter around herself. After a few long seconds, she raises shimmering eyes toward me. “Yes.”

Fuck. What in the world? “Have you been having panic attacks for very long?”

“No, just two of them. One that night. And now.”

Bloody hell. Her words echo around in my head like a clap of thunder. “I am pretty upset to know that’s the effect I have on you.”

Fingers shaking, she pushes her hair back. “You mean, women don’t fall down fainting when you kiss them? Because that’s what I’ve been wondering.”

Gruffly, I reply, “No, babe, this is a first, I promise.”

Her voice grows tight. “Well, I’ll admit I’m not an excited participant in this experiment.”

She’s shaky as she climbs off my lap. Clinging to the metal bathroom stall, she tries to get her balance. “Brock, we can’t do that again. I don’t like feeling like I’m dying.”

“Panic attacks can be brutal. Are you sure you’re feeling okay now?”

Color is returning to her face, but her brows are pinched together. “Pissed. Quite frankly.”

“I guess that’s an improvement.”

She pushes me backward out of the stall and escapes by ducking under my arm. As she splashes her face in the sink, she says, “Please forget this ever happened.”

She isn’t going to like my answer. “I wish I could.”

“I’m serious. It’s mortifying for me.”

A band of dread constricts around my chest. “I’m worried about you.”

“It’s nothing.”

As much as I hate myself for the question I’m about to ask, it has to be done. “Are you fit for duty?”

Every bit of the color that had returned to her face instantly vanishes.

Yes, I’m that asshole.

Snappy, she asks, “What do you mean?”

“What if you have a panic attack at a fire scene?”

“I’ve never had a problem in all my years of service.”

“I think you need to be evaluated.”

Her slender jaw clenches. A fire that I’ve never seen before flashes in her narrowed gaze. She grits out, “I’m fine.”

“Avery, this is serious.”

“If you don’t freaking manhandle me and force a kiss on me, this won’t happen again.”

My hackles instantly shoot up. Manhandle? Force a kiss on her? “Do you really think that’s what I did? Because I sure read you differently.”

For a second, we stand off. Her pulse is flying—it’s clearly visible on her slender throat. My own heart simultaneously tries to pulverize my sternum.

Her throat works, and her voice is thick when she replies, “No, I was willing both times.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear you say that because I do not force myself on women.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. But I wouldn’t have initiated a kiss in the office back there if I were… in my right mind and not under whatever spell it is you weave. This crazy chemistry between us is not worth losing our careers over.”

I try to tamp down my anger but it’s like trying to shove a square peg into a round hole. Even though she’s right. It was reckless of me. This whole damned situation is fucked beyond belief.

I was way over the fucking boundaries. I’m her boss, for heaven's sake. I’m also eleven years older than her. I’m the man here. She deserves to be treated better .

Feeling like a fuck-up, I say, “You’re right. Too much is on the line.”

“Okay, so can we just try to move on? I need this job, Brock. Setting up my life here in Lynn’s Cove is right for me. And your department needs me. We can be adults.”

“I know this is going to make you furious, but you’re going to have to do a medical and psych eval before you can go on any active fire scenes. Until then, you’re on the desk.”

She glares at me for a tense sixty seconds. Then roughly says, “Brock. Please.”

“No. Don’t say my name like that. Or beg me. I’m serious about this. I’m responsible for your safety and the safety of everyone on this team.”

The thought of Avery having a debilitating panic attack in the midst of a dangerous fire chills my blood. I’ll never let that happen on my watch.

I don’t care how angry she is.

I scrub my hand over my face. One more problem on a stack that’s as tall as this fire house. “I’ll set up the appointments with the department’s doctors.”

Bitterly, she says, “Your call. Chief.”

When I leave, she’s still standing against the sink, a paper towel clutched viciously in her hands. The expression on her face is one part pure rage, one part pure agony.

Mine probably matches. I’m pretty sure that we’ve both just boarded the same train to hell.

And I’m pretty sure it’s my fault.

I nearly run smack into Reeves when I fly out of the women’s room.

Stopping in his tracks, his face screws up, “Chief, why were you in there?”

“It’s not important. But I need you to do something. The new hire is here. Show her the unoccupied bunk room, she’s going to be staying there. Put a sign on the door that says ‘Women Only.’ Get her set up with a keycard and log-ins. Introduce her around.”

He gives me one of his easy going smiles. “Sure, Chief.”

“But don’t set her up with turnout gear.”

His smile drops, but he doesn’t dig. He says, “Uh… okay. Where is she?”

“She’ll be out in a minute.”

He glances at the ladies' room door. I walk away before I’m expected to explain anything else. Because what happened behind closed doors is going to stay behind closed doors.