Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Brady steps forward to shake her hand. “Pleasure, Ms. Fischer. Is there anything in particular you'd like us to go over or show them? I’d love to take them out to the engine.” Now, I’m the one about to bust a nut—as in kick Brady’s so far up his ass, they pop out of his mouth. He has no idea who he’s flirting with.
“Captain Wallace, are you all right?”
I turn toward Mrs. Caldwell, blinking. “Um. . . yes. Sorry. Let’s get started, shall we?” I slap on a smile and do what I do best: charm the socks off everyone. “Hi class, I’m Captain Wallace, but you can call me Ben. I’m a firefighter.” The kids go nuts in their chairs, clapping and waving. I get it. I remember the first time my dad came to school for career day. He showed up in his full gear, and it was like a superhero had just entered the building. He told us about the fires he put out and the people he saved. I’d already heard them a million times, but I was still on the edge of my seat, hanging on his every word. When it was time to tour the fire engine, Dad pointed to me and told me to show my class how it was done. Being the son of a fire chief, I had plenty of experience with firetrucks and engines, even at the age of five. He let me jump aboard and point out important features and buttons. He even let me turn on the siren in front of my entire class. I felt on top of the world.
“. . . and that’s about it. Pretty cool, huh?” They nod so quick, a few make themselves dizzy. “How about we take a tour of the engine?” The class goes berserk. Ms. Fischer has to reel them in.
“Okay, everyone. Just like we practiced. Single file line.” The class jumps into action like a herd of elephants without direction. “No—a line. One at a time, Billy. Over here. Sarah, you can’t bring your—”
“How about we all line up in front of Mitchell? He knows everything about the fire engine. If you’re good, he’ll pick one special student to turn on the lights.” Mitchell side-eyes me as a kid plows into him.
Brady hides his laugh and helps escort the kids down the hall. When the last one is out the door, I shut it, cutting off Ms. Fischer’s escape route.
“Excuse me, I need to go with the children—”
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere.” Her lips part, and she quickly masks her shock with anger.
“Step out of my way, or I’ll notify a staff member and your boss of your unprofessionalism.”
Her threats don’t scare me. The way she’s trembling, I know damn well she’s bluffing. “Have at it, sweetheart.” I take a step forward as she backs up. “You think it’s funny to leave guys handcuffed to beds?”
She doesn’t say a word. Her bottom lip locks between her teeth. There was a time I thought that little move was hot. Now, I want to bite that lip to teach her a lesson.
I take another step, and she backs up, hitting her desk. “Is that a thing for you? Luring guys in? Getting them to want you? Teasing them with this sinful little body of yours. . . ?” My work boots hit the tips of her heels. I lean forward, invading her personal space.
“You had me there. The way you kissed me.” I peer down to her mouth. “Melted around me. . . ” Her lips part, and she exhales, her breath skating along my chin. “The way you hiked up that pretty dress and slid against me, getting a taste of what you could have had before you handcuffed me to the bed and left.” I have to be fucked in the head. My desire to kiss her matches my want to spank her. “So, Ms. Fischer, what’s it gonna be? You gonna call your boss and tell on me, or are you gonna admit what a lying, manipulative—”
“I did it to get back at you.” Her ridiculous statement comes out fast and panicked.
“Get back at me? I don’t even know you.”
My words wound her. Her nervous jitters quickly dissolve. Anger explodes in her eyes, and she shoves against my chest, pushing me. “But I know you. I remember you. And it’s you who doesn’t remember me.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’ve never met you before in my life. I would remember—”
She pushes me again, and I stumble back before righting myself. “Let me remind you. I was a flat-chested girl with bifocals. The ugly duckling you couldn’t stand.”
My jaw drops. “Makayla—shit.” I cuss as she slams her palms into my chest again. This time, I do lose my balance and fall backward onto a small round table.