Page 37 of Anchor Point

I’d spent my entire career fighting bastards like this one. And to know that Mayor Smith had set me up just made it worse.

I was beginning to think the bullshit wasn’t worth it. Why have a dream job where people didn’t respect you?

The men and women who worked for my department deserved better than someone who would cow to this type of political pressure. So just like I’d always done, I’d put on a brave face, shove the misogyny aside, and do the job they’d hired me for.

As it was, I still had some missing inventory to find and an arsonist to catch. And apparently, the police department was relying on my new fire marshal to handle the majority of the investigation, so I’d give him my full support.

I checked the time, and since it was early yet, I gave Marshal Harrison a call to get a status update. That done, I felt better and relaxed some, allowing my thoughts to turn to Rosie and Mac. I called Rosie and chatted with her, and her exuberance over the old sailboat she and Mac were restoring made my heart ache. I wanted to be there, experiencing this with her.

It was a Friday night. I could have all weekend with my daughter versus a golf tournament and useless seminars. I’d already fulfilled Mayor Smith’s scheming demands, so I checked the schedule for the next day. A photo of the jackass from the elevator was next to the session information. With that knowledge, my decision was made.

Twenty minutes later, I was in my car with my phone GPS—because my piece-of-shit vehicle was absolutely void of any niceties like Bluetooth or navigation—showing a five-hour drive to get to the lake house, to retrieve Rosie and relieve Mac of weekend kid duty. I cued up my favorite true crime podcast on my phone and headed west.

With an hour of travel left, the rain started. And then the roads grew narrower and darker, with minimal streetlights. My high beams were no match for the sheet of rain that pounded around me. I flipped the radio to a local station when the setting became eerily similar to the location of the episode playing.

Occasionally, lightning would flash and illuminate the dark country road. But the rain just kept pouring down. And I was well and truly creeped out.

Without any warning signs, the road curved sharply, and my tires squealed as I slid. With sweaty palms, I maneuvered the car back to a safer, slower speed.

Mac better have a stiff drink available when I got there.

I cringed. I should’ve called when I left and given them a heads-up that I was coming early. But I didn’t, and now I was afraid to take my eyes off the road to make the call.

Finally, my headlights illuminated his mailbox number, and I turned into the drive. No lights were on inside the house, but Mac’s truck out front was all the confirmation I needed. I cut the engine and took a long, deep breath to calm my nerves.

By the time I made it to the door and huddled as closely to the house as possible, my clothes were drenched. The T-shirt I’d changed into before leaving clung to my body. I knocked a second time before the door was wrenched open to a very surprised Mac on the other side.

Lightning struck nearby, creating a loud crash.

With a yelp, I ducked.

Mac’s strong hand gripped my elbow and tugged me into the small entryway. Right up against his firm chest.

In the split second our bodies were pressed against each other, I was instantly transported to another time, when we’d made a mad dash through the rain and sought shelter in each other. We’d been happy and laughing and ended up kissing and peeling our wet clothes off each other before making love the rest of that rainy day.

A shudder ran through me as I pulled away from his heat. I was not here for this. I was not here for him. I needed to remember that. Even if his lips looked ultra-kissable.

“Surprise,” I said weakly.

“What are you doing here?” That full-body collision had him looking as stunned as I felt.

From beyond the hallway, my daughter’s voice rang out, “Mom!” followed by her running footsteps.

Then I was bear hugged and smashed even closer to him by Rosie.

“What are you doing here?” she squealed, the delighted surprise in her voice bouncing off the walls.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Under any other circumstance, I’d lay them on his chest, maybe snuggle into him. As it was, I was highly aware that our hips were pressed together and his big hands were on my waist, and Rosie was the bulldozer pushing me into him.

Mac’s lake house, from what I could see beyond his shoulder, was an older home. Unadorned cream-colored walls made the small entryway feel brighter than it should. Wood floors led down a short hallway. I took all of this in as I awkwardly tried to hold my body away from Mac’s. No doubt I was soaking him with my wet clothes.

He reached around me, patting Rosie’s back. “Hey, kid. Your mom’s probably freezing. You want to give her some room?”

For the briefest moment, the almost hug surrounded me in his warmth, and my body responded immediately. I wanted to burrow into that warmth, breathe in his woodsy smell, melt into him. Instead, Rosie let me go, and I stepped back, plucking at my now see-through shirt. I turned to hide the fact that my nipples were hard. It was just because I was cold, not because I’d been rubbing against Mac.

“I decided that I’d head out a little early from the conference.”

With mischievous twinkling eyes, Rosie turned to Mac. “Mom’s skipping her classes.”

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