“Are we there yet?” she asks for the ninth time in twelve minutes.
“Almost,” I say, turning into the driveway of Devil’s Peak Fire and Rescue. “We have to give Captain Saxon his moose!”
“I know!” she squeals, clutching the lumpy, misshapen clay figurine like a priceless artifact. “I worked so hard on him. I made the antlers extra big because he’s strong.”
“Right.” I exhale, of course she did.
“And because Captain Saxon is very strong,” she adds matter-of-factly. “Like… the strongest EVER.”
I grip the wheel a little harder. Damn kid notices everything.
She keeps going. “He can carry me with one arm and he can stop bad guys and he can?—”
“He’s a firefighter,” I remind her. “Not a superhero.”
“That’s the same thing,” she counters. I don’t answer because honestly? She may be right.
The truth is, Junie wouldn’t eat dinner. Wouldn’t take a bath. Wouldn’t do anything until I agreed to bring her here. And what was I supposed to do? Tell her no? Tell her she can’t give her little clay creation to the man she thinks is invincible? The man I can’t stop thinking about? Yeah. I caved. Obviously.
We park, and Junie rockets out of the car before I can unbuckle. I hurry after her, calling her name, praying she doesn’t knock over some expensive fire equipment or accidentally pull a lever that floods the entire station.
She barrels through the bay entrance—and skids to a stop.
Because there he is.
Saxon.
Standing beside Engine 19, sleeves shoved up, forearms out, jaw sharp enough to cut glass. He’s talking to Rowan and Boone about something mechanical, but the second he sees Junie sprinting toward him, his entire body shifts. Softens. Flickers with warmth I’ve never seen from him anywhere else.
“Captain Saxon!” Junie shouts at full volume.
His mouth twitches. “Hey, kid.”
She collides with his legs, hugging him like she’s known him forever. He doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t hesitate. He just rests a large hand on her back, steady and warm.
Then he looks at me. Not like a man who’s annoyed his fake fiancée is at his job. Like a man who’s been waiting for her. Heat flashes low in my stomach.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say, suddenly very aware of my hair, my clothes, my everything. “She insisted—this moose—she wouldn’t let it go. Dinner was a disaster. I figured we’d get it over with so she can sleep tonight.”
He steps closer, still keeping a hand on Junie’s shoulder.
“You never apologize for that,” he says quietly. “Seeing you two is the highlight of my day.”
My heart lurches.
Rowan whistles. “Damn, Cap, go off.”
Saxon shoots him a murderous look. Rowan backs away fast.
Junie thrusts the clay blob upward. “I made this for you. It’s a moose.”
Saxon crouches down. Takes the moose carefully—as if it’s fragile instead of lopsided and vaguely tragic—and turns it over like he’s inspecting fine art.
“You made this for me?” he asks.
“Yes,” she beams.
