Or maybe I'm imagining things because the alternative—that Riley Pritchard might actually affect me—is not something I'm prepared to deal with right now.
"Talking points." I clear my throat. "Right. Good idea."
She pulls up something on her laptop, and we spend the next hour reviewing logistics like two people who definitely weren't just standing too close and feeling... whatever that was.
Professional. I need to stay professional.
But watching her explain evidence protocols with that passion in her voice, her father's badgeglinting in the corner of my vision, I'm starting to suspect professional isn't going to cut it for much longer.
Later that night, I'm staring at my apartment ceiling and replaying the moment my hand touched her back.
Four seconds. That's all it was. Four seconds of contact through a blazer, in a fluorescent-lit lab that smelled like chemicals, with a woman who spent three years thinking I was a shallow publicity hound.
Four seconds shouldn't be keeping me awake.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. A text from my buddy Derek.
Derek: Saw the video. You and the hot investigator, huh? Nice work.
I don't respond. Partly because "it's fake" isn't something I can text without risking it getting screenshot and shared. Partly because "hot investigator" hits differently now that I've seen the way Riley's eyes light up when she talks about gas chromatography.
The ceiling offers no answers.
She accused me of chasing publicity, of caring more about my image than my job. And yeah, thatstung—mostly because there's a kernel of truth in it. I do care about public perception. I have cultivated a social media presence. The charity car wash post did have multiple angles, and not all of them were strictly necessary for fundraising purposes.
But she doesn't know about the three years of training certifications I've collected. The crisis intervention courses. The advanced structural assessment qualification I finished last month. The promotion review coming up that I've been preparing for since before she and I ever exchanged a civil word.
Wade thinks I'm coasting on charm. Half the department probably agrees with him. The social media following just reinforces the image: Aiden Gentry, the firefighter who's better at selfies than strategy.
I've been working twice as hard to prove otherwise. Every certification, every volunteer hour, every tactical decision documented and filed. Because I know my record will be scrutinized differently than someone like Wade's.
I saw her lab today—the equipment, the precision, the legacy she's building. Maybe it's time someone saw mine.
Tomorrow we'll practice more "casual touches"and "meaningful glances." We'll prepare for a weekend of pretending to be something we're not.
But tonight, I can't stop thinking about the way her breath caught when my hand touched her back.
Four seconds. In a fluorescent-lit lab that smelled like chemicals.
If Derek could see me now, he'd never let me live it down.
Chapter 3
Riley
The crowd at Riverside Park Pavilion is approximately three times larger than Hazel promised. My stomach does a slow barrel roll as I scan the sea of faces pressed against the stone columns, families spreading picnic blankets, local news crews adjusting equipment like vultures preparing for a feast.
So much for "intimate community gathering."
Aiden's hand finds mine as we approach the makeshift stage, his fingers warm and steady. The contact should feel rehearsed. Fake. Like the four-second practice session in my lab that I definitely haven't been thinking about for three days straight.
It doesn't feel fake. That's the problem.
"Breathe," he murmurs near my ear. "They'rehere for fire safety tips, not to dissect our relationship."
Easy for him to say. The man was born for crowds. I was born for evidence lockers and chemical analysis—environments where no one expects me to smile on command.
Captain Elena Vasquez takes the podium, silver-streaked hair catching the afternoon light. She's got the kind of commanding presence that makes people pay attention without demanding it. "Today we're proud to showcase not only our fire safety expertise, but the personal dedication of our team members."
