He nods once. “Best thing I’ve gotten in a long time.”
My throat tightens. Junie practically levitates with joy, then runs off to find the dalmatian statue near the front door. Leaving me alone with him.
“Thank you for being nice about it,” I murmur.
He stands. Looks down at me. “Wouldn’t dream of being anything else.”
I laugh under my breath. “You? Nice?”
He steps closer—too close—voice dropping. “You don’t think I’m nice?”
My breath catches. “I… didn’t say that.”
“No,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to my mouth. “You didn’t.”
Before I can respond, Junie yells, “Mommy! Look! Fire hats!”
I turn, smiling reluctantly, but Saxon doesn’t step back.
Not even an inch. And God, his presence does things to my nervous system I don’t have labels for.
“Let her look around,” he says. “She’s fine.”
“So long as she doesn’t accidentally drive the truck.”
“She won’t.”
“You don’t know Junie.”
“I know you,” he murmurs.
My stomach flips. “You absolutely do not know me.”
He smirks, soft and slow. “Getting there.”
Before I can drop into the floor and combust, Axel jogs in from the back.
“Cap! Boone messed with the hose pressure again?—”
“Did not!” Boone shouts.
“Did so!”
Saxon exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Idiots.”
I laugh, and he looks at me again. Something unreadable flickers in his expression.
“Stay here,” he says, voice softer. “I’ll be right back.”
He walks out toward the training bay with his crew, muscles moving under his shirt in a way that should be illegal. I stand by Junie, trying to breathe normally. Bad idea.
Because two seconds later, Axel yells, “Pressure’s ready!”
And Boone yells, “Don’t point it at me, dumbass?—”
Too late. A blast of water shoots across the yard. Directly into me. Cold water drenches me from chest to knees. I gasp, choking on air, and stagger backward.
Junie screams, “Mommy!”
