Page 12 of Anchor Point

I pulled a toothpick out of my pocket and chomped down, speaking around it. “Nicotine fits still get me from time to time,” I lied. “And traffic was a bitch coming from the lake this morning.” It wasn’t a full-on lie. Other than getting behind school buses, the ride had been fine. No, it was the days, weeks, and months that loomed ahead that had me on edge. “I’d pay twenty bucks to smell a freshly lit cigarette right now.”

His brows shot high. I didn’t often admit to needing a smoke. “Okay then, I’m gonna leave you alone,” he said and cautiously backed out into the hallway.

I resumed my morning routine. This was fucking stupid. I was better than this childish temper tantrum. I could handle her being here. I hadn’t let a woman affect me this much in over fifteen years. Hadn’t had one get under my skin or consume my thoughts.

Matter of fact, she was the last woman to affect me this quickly, this thoroughly. I shoved the thought back into the box it belonged in and left my bunk in search of my crew.

Inside the bay, between the engine and the rescue truck, was where we spent most of our time hanging out at a cheap plastic table with mismatched chairs.

Except this morning, the table and chairs had been put away, and everyone was busy cleaning the already spotless bay. An old vintage Ford Crown Victoria pulled into the drive and parked in front of the station.

“Who’s in that piece of shit?” Burgess called.

“I haven’t seen one of those for years,” Big Mo replied, propped on his broom. “I thought they retired all the former cruisers after PD got done dogging them.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What unlucky SOB got shackled with that?”

Knowing the way the city did things, I could imagine who was about to walk around that corner. I plucked the toothpick from my lips as the quick clip of high heels echoed from the sidewalk.

And then, there she was. Dress jacket crisp and white. And another fucking skirt and heels.

Well, shit.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” her sexy-as-fuck voice rang through the bay. A flash of irritation crawled up my spine. I didn’t want to see her. Not here. Not like this.

But I was the captain on duty. It was my role to make the introductions and be professional. So I schooled my features and went to greet her.

“Chief Hawkins, meet the crew of Station Four. This is Morgan Jackson, or Big Mo. Nate Williams, Thoren Watkins, and our rookie, Burgess.”

The whites of Thoren’s eyes blazed as he gawked at her, probably recognizing her from Kylie’s photo. She’d aged gracefully, but there was no doubt that she was the woman in the picture. I prayed he’d keep his shit together and narrowed my eyes in warning. Thankfully, she didn’t linger on Thoren or notice his stupid gaping mouth.

“Burgess doesn’t have a first name?” Swear to God, her eyes twinkled, just like they had in that island bar.

“Rookie,” Big Mo teased with a huge grin.

She returned his smile, and my stomach nearly regurgitated the coffee I’d pounded on the long drive to work. This was a fucking nightmare. Add in the fact that she didn’t act like she recognized me, and all of it just piled on to the shit I didn’t want to deal with. I hadn’t changed that much either, so there was no way she didn’t know. What game was she playing?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen.” She took in the bay, eyes lingering on the corner where the table and chairs were neatly stacked. “I appreciate the effort to impress, but I can assure you that I don’t expect you to reorganize your lives on my account. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’d appreciate a few moments of your time.”

Over by the engine, Thoren and Nate whispered, heads bowed.

I knew exactly what they were whispering about. If I could, I would smack them both in the head for whispering about me. Her. What they thought they knew.

But then again, maybe that was me projecting.

I cleared my throat and snapped our collective attention to the matter at hand. My new boss was in the house, and we needed to find out her agenda and lay down some parameters.

I’d worked too damn long and too damn hard, and I was too damn close to retirement to let some newbie, no matter how gorgeous she was, come in and fuck it up. Regardless of how much my body responded to hers.

Or how hot my dreams had been in the two days since I’d last seen her.

“Conference room is open, Chief,” I ground out, ready to get this meeting over with. If being in her space was affecting me this much, I had no idea how I was going to manage the next five years.

The smile died on her face as she took me in. “Let’s get started, then.” She turned and motioned to my crew of idiots, and like a pack of baby ducklings, they followed her into the station, toddling single file into the conference room where they sat like good little boys.

I scowled. What the fuck? They’d never been so well behaved in their lives.

I wanted to throttle them.

We’d be having a discussion as soon as she left because something was definitely up.

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