Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Saxon
I’m halfway through a routine fire inspection at the elementary school—routine only because I keep making excuses to be here—when I hear raised voices down the hall.
One of them is Briar’s.
The other is male.
I know her voice.
I know her laugh.
And I know the quiet panic threading through her tone right now.
I follow the sound before I think it through, boots hitting the linoleum in slow, heavy thuds that echo too loud in my chest.
She’s outside the principal’s office, facing a guy in a button-down that looked expensive once but now just looks greasy. He stands too close. He talks too loud. And he keeps stabbing the air with a clipboard like he’s lecturing her. Her ex.
Her shoulders are tight. Her face is pale. And the second she spots me, something like relief flashes in her eyes.
I don’t stop walking.
The guy doesn’t notice me until I’m two feet behind her.
“For the last time, Briar,” he snaps, “I’m not signing anything until I know Junie has a stable home environment. I’m her father. I have a right to make sure she’s not living with—”
“With what?” she fires back, voice thin. “With me? Her mother?”
“With poor decision-making,” he says coldly.
My jaw flexes so hard it pops.
She breathes in sharply, voice shaking. “You haven’t visited in six months. You don’t call. You don’t check in. You don’t even know what size shoes she wears.”
“That’s not the point,” he says, exasperated. “You’re asking for placement in a special academic program. That requires signatures and stability. You can’t just fly by the seat of your pants, Bri.”
Her shoulders shake once—anger, humiliation, fear, maybe all three.
I step in.
“Problem here?” I ask, voice low enough that even he flinches.
He turns. Looks me up and down like he’s trying to size me up. Poor bastard doesn’t realize I’ve already decided I don’t like him.
“And so we meet again.”
Briar exhales, barely audible.
Her ex scoffs. “This isn’t your business.”
“Pretty sure it is,” I say. “You’re upsetting her.”
His brows rise. “Are you serious?”
I don’t blink. “Very.”
He turns to Briar sharply. “Is this what you want your daughter around? Aggressive men?”
Briar sputters. “He’s not— You’re twisting things—”
The principal opens her office door then, looking frazzled. “Briar? Everything okay?”
And that’s when it happens.
The moment that changes everything.
Briar, red-faced, stressed, pushed to the edge says, “I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m— I’m engaged.”
Her ex freezes.
The principal freezes.
I freeze for half a second.
Then she keeps digging herself deeper, voice cracking, “Everything is stable. Because I’m— we’re— engaged.”
Her ex’s face twists like he’s smelled something rotten. “Engaged? To who?”
Briar’s eyes widen. She looks at me in panic. Like she wants to grab the words and shove them back into her mouth.
And before she can backtrack, before she can ruin the one thing that might protect her, before I even think it through—I say it for her.
“To me.”
Every head snaps toward me.
The hallway goes silent. The fluorescent lights hum too loud. Briar’s mouth falls open, eyes huge, color draining from her face.
Her ex laughs once—harsh and bitter. “You expect me to believe that you two are—”
“Yes,” I cut in. Calm. Controlled. Deadly. “We are.”
The principal’s hand flies to her chest. “Oh my goodness, congratulations!”
The ex looks like he wants to punch something.
Not a great move, considering I’d break him in half.
“We’ll need documentation,” he says tightly. “Proof. If this is some stunt—”
I step closer to him. “Do I look like I play games?”
He goes still.
The principal beams like a Christmas tree. “This is wonderful news. Briar, why didn’t you tell us?”
Briar lets out a strangled, “I— well— it’s—”
I rest my hand lightly on the small of her back in a steadying touch. A claim. A warning to her ex. All of the above.
Her whole body jerks.
I lean just enough she can feel my breath. “Go along with it,” I murmur so only she can hear. “For now.”
She gulps. Nods once.
Her ex glares. “This doesn’t excuse anything. I still want to see Junie.”
“When you actually show up,” she snaps, surprising me. “And when you’re actually sober enough for it to matter.”
He pales. “I’m not— That’s—”
“Enough,” I say, stepping between them. “She’s done talking to you.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” he spits.
“I just did.”
He opens his mouth, but Briar beats him. “Matt, leave. Please.”
He looks at her, then at me, then mutters something under his breath and stalks off, shoulders tense and angry.
The principal claps her hands together. “Wonderful! I’ll update the paperwork immediately!”
I nod once. “Appreciate it.”
She disappears back into her office, humming with excitement and leaving me and Briar alone in the hallway. Then she slowly turns to me. Eyes wide. Mouth parted. Breathing hard.
“Saxon,” she whispers, strangled. “What did you just do?”
I shrug. “Helped.”
“Helped?” she squeaks. “You told my principal we’re engaged!”
“You told her first.”
“I panicked!”
“I covered you.”
She pushes her hands through her hair, pacing two frantic steps before spinning back to me. “This is insane. People are going to talk. The whole school—”
“Let them talk.”
“There’ll be gossip.”
“There’s already gossip.”
She groans. “Saxon—”
“Briar.”
She stops. I step closer.
Her back hits the bulletin board behind her, a poster with cartoon owls declaring WHO’s Ready to Learn? wrinkling behind her shoulder.
Her chest rises fast. Too fast. Her scent—vanilla lotion and maybe the faintest bit of caramel apple from the Fall Festival—wraps around us like a trap.
Her voice shakes. “Why did you agree to that?”
Because I watched her ex corner her. Because I heard the fear she tried to hide. Because I’ve been circling her for weeks and something primal snapped when someone threatened her stability.
But I don’t say any of that. Instead I say, “Because you needed help.”
She looks up sharply. “I told you I can handle my own life.”
“You don’t have to handle it alone,” I say, softer now. “Let me help you.”
Her lips part. That tiny sound she makes—like a startled exhale—hits deeper than it should.
“I shouldn’t have said it,” she breathes. “I didn’t think. It just came out.”
“And I didn’t hesitate,” I tell her. “That should tell you something.”
Her eyes jump to mine. “What does it tell me?”
“That I’m not letting you deal with this guy alone.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
She swallows, gaze flicking away, overwhelmed and flustered.
“It’ll blow over,” she whispers.
“No, it won’t.”
She stiffens.
I step closer, crowding her into the corkboard again. “Not with the way this town is.”
“What do you mean?” she asks quietly.
I smirk faintly. “Check your phone.”
She blinks. “Why?”
“Just check.”
She fishes it out with trembling fingers. Unlocks it. Gasps.
“Oh my god.”
I try not to laugh. “Told you.”
Her eyes dart across the screen.
There it is: A photo someone snapped in the two seconds my hand touched her back.
Uploaded to the town’s Facebook group, which is apparently run by lunatics.
The caption:
CONGRATS TO OUR FIRE CAPTAIN HOTTIE & THE NEW KINDER QUEEN — ENGAGED!
She makes a choked noise. “My mother follows this group.”
“So does half of Copper County.”
“Oh my god— Saxon— there are comments—”
I lean down. “Read them.”
“I can’t—”
“I’ll read them,” I say, plucking the phone from her hand.
Her pulse jumps at my fingers brushing hers.
I scroll. “‘He finally found a woman to tame him.’”
She groans. “Saxon—”
“‘She’s adorable.’” I pause. “Can’t argue with that.”
She swats my arm. “Give me that!”
I hold it over my head until she gives up, glaring. She’s flustered. Pink-cheeked. Breathing too fast.
Beautiful.
“Relax,” I say. “It’s handled.”
“Handled?” she repeats, stunned. “Handled? Saxon, the entire town thinks we’re engaged.”
“Seems that way.”
“And you’re… okay with that?”
I shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She stares at me like I’ve spoken in tongues. “Because it’s not true.”
“It’s a solution,” I counter. “A temporary one.”
“A temporary fake engagement,” she says, exasperated.
“Exactly.”
“You’re insane.”
“And you’re overwhelmed.”
She opens her mouth to argue—and doesn’t.
I lower my voice. “Let me help you.”
Something softens—dangerously—in her expression.
“Saxon,” she whispers. “This is too much.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me.”
“That’s literally what we just told everyone.”
“Only because it protects you.”
She swallows. Hard. Her eyes meet mine and hold.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admits quietly.
“You don’t have to know.” I step closer, letting my body heat ghost along hers. “You just have to trust me.”
Her breath catches. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
Her eyes flick to my mouth, so quick she thinks I won’t catch it.
I catch everything.
“Because you scare me,” she whispers.
My pulse spikes. “How?”
“Because you’re… intense. And you look at me like—”
“Finish it.” My voice darkens.
She shakes her head. I hold her gaze, refusing to let her hide. “Like what, sunshine?”
She hesitates. Then finally, in a small voice: “Like you want me.”
The air thickens. Dangerous. Electric. Over the line.
I lean in until my lips hover at her ear.
“I do,” I murmur.
Her whole body trembles.
She grips the bulletin board behind her like she needs something to hold onto.
“Saxon…” she says, breathless.
“Don’t worry,” I murmur. “I’ll behave.”
“You don’t look like you’re about to behave.”
“No,” I agree. “I don’t.”
We stay there in the empty hallway, breathing the same air, heat building between us like a fuse burning down.
Then her phone vibrates again.
She jumps. “Probably another comment.”
“Probably,” I say, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “Let the town talk.”
She swallows. “And what do you think they’ll say?”
I smirk. “That you caught the captain.”
She laughs—shaky, disbelieving, too soft. “You are impossible.”
“Maybe.”
I brush past her, slow enough she feels every inch of heat between us.
“But I’m yours for now,” I add without looking back.
She inhales sharply.
“And you,” I say, glancing at her over my shoulder, “are mine to help.”
Her lips part. Her cheeks flush. The spark between us roars. And for the first time since meeting her, I know with absolute certainty:
This fake engagement won’t stay fake for long.