Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Saxon
Itell myself I’m here for a reason.
Routine safety check.
Standard procedure.
Necessary.
Bullshit.
We did one three days ago. Everything passed. Everything was fine.
But here I am, walking down the gleaming hallway of Devil’s Peak Elementary with a clipboard I don’t need and a purpose I’m lying to myself about.
Teachers peer out of doorways as I pass, whispering like I’m a stray wolf that wandered into a chicken coop.
Whatever.
I’m not here for them.
I find the classroom before I even look at the door number.
Her voice carries. Light. Warm. A soft hum that pulls under my skin.
I pause outside her door, jaw clenching before I knock.
“Come in!”
I step inside.
Twenty tiny heads swivel at once.
And then hers.
Briar Tate looks up—and blushes instantly. Pink. All over. Like someone hit her with a heat gun.
Jesus.
I shouldn’t like that as much as I do.
She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice too bright. “Captain Cole. Wow. Um. Hi. Again.”
Her eyes flicker down my chest—quick, but I catch it.
“Safety check,” I say, holding up the clipboard.
Her brows rise. “Again?”
“Yup.”
“Didn’t the last one happen… Monday?”
“Yup.”
“You do them twice a week?”
“No.”
She blinks. “So… why are you here?”
I should lie.
Say something easy.
Instead: “Felt like it.”
Her breath snags.
And she looks away fast, bending over Junie’s desk like she suddenly finds crayons fascinating. That blush crawls down her throat, disappearing under her neckline.
I grit my teeth. Look anywhere else. I don’t.
“You can keep teaching,” I say, because the kids are staring at me like I’m a zoo exhibit. “Pretend I’m not here.”
She laughs nervously. “Yeah, that won’t be happening.”
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Why not?”
“Because you’re… distracting.”
My eyebrow lifts slow. “Distracting how?”
Her eyes widen like she didn’t mean to say it out loud. “I, um—just—you’re very… loud.”
“Loud.”
“In presence,” she blurts.
I let the corner of my mouth tilt. “You could’ve just said big.”
Her face goes scarlet.
One of the kids raises his hand. “Miss Tate, is he the fireman who yelled at you?”
Briar chokes, coughing wildly. “He did not yell at me—he was just… correcting… a mistake.”
Another kid asks, “Is he your boyfriend?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.
Briar wheezes, “No! Absolutely not!”
“Not yet,” I say under my breath.
Her eyes snap to mine. “Did you just—?”
I shrug. “Didn’t say anything.”
She narrows her eyes. “Pretty sure you did.”
“Pretty sure you’re hearing things.”
Her lips press into a line, but her cheeks are on fire.
Jesus, she’s fun to mess with.
Fun.
Dangerous.
Too damn tempting.
I move around the room pretending to check fire extinguishers that don’t need checking. She keeps stealing glances like she thinks I won’t notice.
I notice everything.
The way she bites her lip when I lean down to check the outlet cover. The way she shifts in place when I walk behind her. The way her voice shakes every time she says my name.
Eventually she corners me by the supply drawer, hands on her hips.
“Okay,” she whispers harshly, “what are you really doing here?”
I look down at her—too close, too aware of her body heat brushing mine.
“Told you. Safety check.”
She folds her arms. “Captain.”
“Briar.”
Her breath stutters.
And I shouldn’t enjoy that as much as I do.
She tries again. “If you keep coming here, people are going to talk.”
“Let them.”
“That’s not— I have a job. And a kid. And you…” She gestures to me like I’m a problem she doesn’t have instructions for. “You show up everywhere.”
“You noticed.”
“Of course I noticed!”
I step in before she can retreat, boxing her against the drawer. Not touching. Just close enough she forgets how to breathe properly.
“You want me to stop coming?”
Her eyes flick to my mouth.
She swallows.
Hard.
“That’s not— I didn’t say—” She tries to find the right words and fails miserably. “You make it hard to think.”
My pulse spikes. “Do I?”
“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re flirting. Like you…want to eat me.”
I lean down until she feels my breath. “If you think this is me flirting, sweetheart, you’re in trouble.”
Her knees actually wobble.
I catch the edge of the drawer behind her so she doesn’t topple.
Her chest rises too fast.
“This is wildly inappropriate,” she murmurs.
“You keep saying that.” I move closer, lowering my voice. “But you don’t walk away.” She opens her mouth. No sound comes out. I smirk. “Thought so.”
She pushes lightly at my chest—not enough to move me, just enough to feel the hardness under her palm.
I go still.
Her eyes widen at her own boldness. “I— I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize,” I say, voice rougher than I intend. “Feels good.”
She gasps softly.
I straighten before I forget where we are, putting an inch or two of space between us.
She sways like she wants that inch back.
Her hand still rests on my chest.
Slowly—too slowly—I reach up and wrap my fingers around her wrist, guiding her hand down.
Heat shoots across both of us at the contact. Her breath trembles. I let her go.
“Your extinguisher works,” I say, voice steady even though I feel anything but. “So does your outlet. Everything checks out.”
“You didn’t check anything,” she whispers.
“Didn’t have to.”
“Then why—”
I meet her stare dead-on. “Because I wanted to see you.”
Her lips part.
She looks young like this—caught between curiosity and fear, but not afraid of me. Afraid of what this is.
I step back, giving her air. “See you Monday, Miss Tate.”
“That’s… three days from now.”
I stop in the doorway and look back.
“On second thought, maybe I won’t wait three days.”
She freezes. Her blush creeps down her throat again, flushing her chest. I see it. I feel it. And it takes every bit of discipline I’ve ever built to walk out of that classroom.
As I hit the hallway, I hear her exhale like she’s been holding her breath for the last five minutes.
Good.
She should feel that.
Because I sure as hell do.
And I’m nowhere near done circling her.