A jarring honk from behind her booted her out of her thoughts. With an ‘I’m sorry’ wave, Saylor steered her car forward, pushing her memories of Max’s moves from her mind. In just a few minutes, she pulled into her neighborhood. She wasn’t that far from Max’s home.
Once in her place, Saylor jumped in the shower. She hated washing off Max’s scent, but couldn’t go to teach smelling like a brothel. Rolling her eyes as she laughed at herself for that thought, Saylor dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Even though it was warm outside this time of year, Saylor always froze in the air-conditioned building. In her office, she had some colorful smocks that she wore over her clothing in messy classes like clay pottery. Still in an art classroom, dressing in expensive or fancy clothes was an invitation to stain, snag, or rip her apparel.
As she brushed her hair, Saylor looked at herself in the mirror. Was she imagining it or had the shadowed look in her eyes disappeared? Definitely not tossing and turning all night haddecreased the dark circles under her eyes. She set the brush down and wrapped her arms around herself in a silent hug.
Please let this continue.
After experiencing Max’s caring attention, Saylor didn’t want to lose it. Her heart would never be the same. She forced herself to stop mooning over Max and get ready. In a few more minutes, she headed toward the university.
CHAPTER 9
Sweat rolled into Max’s eyes as he concentrated on the tangle of wires. Tracing the most important pathways on the explosive device, he forced himself to breathe slowly and take his time. Rushing led to dangerous results.
With that said, he was acutely aware that the timer now held less than thirty seconds. Soon, he would have to take his best guess if he didn’t figure out which wire would disarm the bomb.There!Max spotted a pink-striped wire leading to the ignition. Without debating his decision, Max snipped the pliers closed, severing the target.
The glowing numbers on the timer disappeared.
Max exhaled a breath and watched the display. He continued to count down in his mind. When he reached zero, nothing happened.
“Thank God. Do you like waiting until we’re all having a heart attack before going eeny meeny miny moe?” Koa demanded.
“Weren’t you considering becoming an explosives expert?” Max asked as he rolled his neck to relax his muscles. The youngestmember of the team would need a few more years of instruction to be ready to slough off the pressure, forget the clock, and focus exclusively on the timer.
“Yeah. Think I can do it?”
“With the right experience and training, sure,” Max said confidently. “I’ve done this for a while.”
Koa nodded and looked at the bomb. “Was that a close one?”
“Not remotely.”
“You are more cold-blooded than Hank,” Koa said, mentioning the team’s sniper.
“Hank’s not cold-blooded. He is an expert at calculating angles and distances as well as taking into account the effects of wind and rain. His ability to remain still for hours is legendary,” Max said.
“Aw, you’re making me blush,” Hank said with a grin.
Max enjoyed seeing Hank joke with the team. Their sniper had joined a couple of years back. Max had said nothing to Caden, the team chief, but Max had noted how the marksman had kept himself apart from the others. Something had happened on his last team. Max had dedicated himself to involving Hank in their activities.
Of all the team, Max was closest with Hank. They’d been the last two without a little girl as the others had found their perfect women. To his surprise, with every teammate that became a couple, Hank had melded more into the group. Not having a little girl didn’t push him away, but had pulled Hank into the fold.
At lunch, Caden looked at him directly and asked, “Who’s the woman?”
“I think she’s my little girl,” Max confessed.
Congratulations rocketed toward him from everyone.
“Thanks. She’s my art teacher,” Max shared.
“You mean the one that made you strip the first night? That’s literally a ballsy way to impress women,” Zale, their medic, said.
“Is that what caught her eye?” Koa asked, trying to sound innocent and failing miserably when he burst into laughter.
“It’s a figure drawing class, assholes,” Max reminded them. “Everyone takes their turn. After the second class, she panicked when someone pounded toward us out of the blue, loudly like they were attacking. She was a bystander during a bank robbery and hasn’t healed from that trauma.”
“I’m glad you were there,” Jerico said.
“Me, too,” Max agreed. “I have no doubts. She’s my little girl.”
