Page 71 of Hearts Storm

“The only pole you should be sliding down is that one,” she fires back, pointing at the fireman’s pole situated in a corner across the room.

“Rude!” Alan huffs in mock heartbreak as he boops her on the nose.

It takes every rational part of me not to rush across the room and snap the fucker’s finger in two. I warned him not to flirt with her.

She bats her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence. “The last thing I need is you sniffing around my students, thank you very much.”

“It’s not them I’m after, sugar.”

The smile she gifts him with hits my solar plexus, nearly bowling me over.

Quickly, I cross the room, aiming for the coffee pot instead of Alan’s face.

Caught up in his banter, she doesn’t seem to notice me until I sit down beside her, making sure our arms brush.

The smell of her shampoo fills my head; the sight of her mouth catching my attention when she turns to look at me.

“Hey, Brex,” she greets, voice softening. “Glad to see you made it back in one piece.”

“Yup. Enough to be ready for round two,” I grin, taking a sip of my coffee, ignoring Alan’s not-so-subtle glare. “How’s your head?”

She lifts one shoulder, wincing a little. “I’ll live.”

“Good.” I take another sip, watching the way her eyes light up as she looks at me, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, lips curving into the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen.

Alan leans in, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “So, Reyna, what do you think about you and me...”

His words fade away as soon as he sees Logan stride into the kitchen like a man on a mission. Eyes sweeping the room, they zero in on our cozy scene.

Something dark flashes across his face when he sees how close Alan is leaning into Reyna.

I shift, pressing my thigh against hers, hiding my grin with my mug.

“Alan,” he barks, jerking his chin toward the door. “Go help wash the trucks.”

Alan blinks in surprise. “But I just⁠—”

“Now,” Logan barks.

With a reluctant sigh, Alan pushes back from the table. “You got it, Cap.” He gives Reyna a wink as he stands. “We’ll talk later.”

Logan mutters something that sounds an awful like “the fuck you will” under his breath, muscle at his temple pulsing double time as he waits for Alan to clear the room.

Turning his attention to Reyna, the look on Logan’s face is a dead giveaway. He’s trying to play it cool, but I know him almost better than my own reflection.

“You need to go home.”

“What?” She sits up, straightening her spine. “Why?”

“I think it would be better if you went home to rest.” He crosses his arms over his chest, stubbornness practically bleeding from his pores. “You’ll be more comfortable in your own space. In your own bed.”

Casually sliding a hand under the table, I give Reyna’s thigh a soft squeeze and take another sip. Classic Logan. Can’t just say he’s worried about her—has to go and frame it like a tactical decision.

She sucks in a breath at my touch, but recovers quickly. “I feel good,” she argues, tossing what’s left of her pizza on her plate. “Great actually. Dave said⁠—”

“Dave cleared you of a concussion. He didn’t clear you to come back to work.” Logan’s voice drops. “You took a hard hit. You need time to recover properly. And I want a doctor—a real doctor, not just Dave doing a quick assessment—to sign off before you work another day in my station.”

Reyna’s mouth drops open, then snaps shut. Eyes narrowing, I can see her protest gearing up, but Logan doesn’t give her the chance. “This isn’t up for debate. Brex is going to take you home.”