I look down at myself—at my T-shirt plastered to my skin, outlining every curve, every shiver.
The entire station goes silent.
Every firefighter freezes.
And then Saxon appears from the training yard. He stops dead in the middle of the bay. His eyes snap to me. His jaw locks. His pupils dilate.
And he swallows.Hard.So hard the entire crew hears it.
Rowan whispers reverently, “Captain’s suffering.”
I laugh. I cannot help it. The absurdity, the mortification, the cold—all of it bubbles into hysterical laughter.
Saxon doesn’t laugh.
“Saxon?” I say, breathless.
He moves toward me slowly, deliberately, like a predator approaching something delicate he’s not sure he should touch.
His eyes travel down my soaked shirt. Down my skin. Heat detonates low in my stomach.
“Briar,” he says softly, voice rough, “are you okay?”
“I—yeah—just cold.”
He lifts a hand as if to touch me then stops himself at the last second.
Glares over his shoulder. “Which one of you idiots did that?”
Boone immediately points at Axel. “Him!”
“Traitor,” Axel hisses.
Saxon groans like he’s praying for strength. “The hell is wrong with you two?”
Rowan hops up on the front bumper of the engine. “Cap, be honest, you didn’t mind.”
Saxon turns slowly. “I will throw you through a window.”
Rowan grins. “Worth it.”
I clamp my arms over my chest, which only makes Saxon’s jaw clench more.
“I—I should go dry off,” I say.
He looks at me with something like pain. “No,” he says immediately. “Stay.”
“Saxon, I’m soaked.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, eyes darkening, “I noticed.”
Rowan howls. Boone fans himself dramatically. “Captain, please. We’re in public.”
“Shut up,” Saxon snaps.
Junie trots over, tugging my sleeve. “Mommy, you’re wet.”
“Sure am,” I chirp awkwardly.
