Chapter 11
11
CONNOR
Well, that was fucking hilarious.
Not.
That journalist was pretty, I have to admit. But I don’t fuck around with journalists. And I certainly don’t talk to them. I’ve had such journalists sniff around my fire station and Crystal River before – looking for the scoop on my family, hoping that their little article will project them to the big time on network talk shows and front page opinion columns. This girl wasn’t the first to snoop around, and she certainly won’t be the last. I’ve been offered a lot of money to rat out the dealings of my family, and I have flatly rejected every single one without hesitation.
But I certainly have never found them pretty before...
I don’t like journalists. I don’t like their questions. I don’t like my father’s media empire. The last thing I would want to be is famous. Fuck that.
But she was pretty. Goddamnit. I’d give her that.
Those emerald-green eyes. That silky blonde hair. The way she tried to charm me. She had none of that fakeness other journalists possess – she instead seemed genuinely interested in me.
She seemed like a good person, despite being a journalist leech.
I even was tickled by her breezy attitude. Her optimism in the face of my bluntness. Her spark .
She’s the complete opposite of me, to be frank.
I can’t help but admit that my cock hardened at the sight of her. It’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve allowed myself to be attracted to the fairer sex. I’m always too focused on my work... on my defenses...
But her prettiness shone through all of that.
And somehow made me hard.
For fuck’s sake, Connor. What the hell are you thinking?
A fucking journalist...
Out of anyone on this planet?
“Who was that?” Eric asks me.
We’re sitting in the back of the fire engine, being driven to this job. The alarm saved me from really letting loose at that Ember Mortensen back at the fire station. I really wanted to give her a piece of my mind for daring to intrude on my world like that.
I glare at my friend.
“I have no idea,” I reply. “She’s a nobody.”
But I saw the determination in her eyes as she confronted me. I can tell she’s not done with me yet.
And that scares me.
I know a good journalist when I see one, and she seems like a journalist who will stop at nothing for her story. And her story is clearly about me.
I can’t allow her to get the upper hand. I have to be ready for her second coming.
And I certainly can’t allow myself to get fucking hard again in front of her. That would be unacceptable.
So I’m going to find out who exactly she is.