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1
BRANDI
I can’t decidewhich is worse… killing my teacher or wanting to screw his brains out.
But since he’s a cop and I work with him, it’s probably the first option.
Which sucks, because he’s hot and I’d love to do him. He’s just got an attitude worse than anything I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
I stare out the window of the briefing room in the Serenity Harbor fire station as the bright sunny day turns gunmetal gray in less than ten minutes.
Rain starts tapping on the windows, then furiously pummels the metal roof, drowning out the man speaking in front of the room.
We’re used to unpredictable weather in Maine, but this type of storm is going to catch too many people off guard.
And here I am, stuck with thirty other dispatchers, firefighters, and police officers, just as bored of unneeded training as I am, when what promises to be a storm beyond the meteorologists’ predictions starts unleashing its fury outside.
I clear my throat. “Um, excuse me.”
Maybe a little too much glee rides the frustration in me as I raise my hand, speak, and cut off Travis Masterson’s lecture.
His blue eyes land on me and I somehow manage to keep my composure under the cold and arrogant expression from the man who may look like a blond god but has the manners of an angry lobster mixed with a pissy ass.
“I’m talking.”
An unwanted shiver runs through me straight into my core at that low, rich voice. Unwanted because the man may be six foot three of pure, hot masculinity, but he hates my guts. Has from the moment I got hired in the sheriff’s department as a dispatcher.
I stand to my far-from-imposing, usually calm, not quite five feet and stare him down.
“You might not have noticed,” I say, “but there’s a storm. A big one. It’s knocking at the door here, man. I don’t think it’s here for a date.”
Travis’ eyes narrow into hard chips of blue ice and his mouth thins even more than it already was at the titter of laughter that ripples through the room at my joke.
I’m used to his anger, especially because it seems to be made just for me. For anyone else, he’d have a smile or a spark of warmth in his eyes.
Not for me.
So I plunge on, ready to go to war if it means I don’t get soaked to the bone on my way home.
“The storm’s bad, it’s early, and it’s starting to hit.”
“You want me to… what? Wave a magic wand? Make it go away so it doesn’t ruin your hair?”
God, he’s a total ass, pure and simple. No matter how much I might want to take him for a ride, there’s no ignoring his attitude.
“No. I want you to be smart and get us off the island before we get stuck here.”
No one in the room says a word. I don’t speak like this often. And I’m sure they’re not used to seeing a pint-sized pixie arguing with what amounts to a giant. Sure, Travis is terrifying on a normal day. But this is important and his attitude annoys the hell out of me.
Still… that’s his problem, not mine. I try to get along, most of the time. And this—it isn’t the time.
“Smart?”
Yeah, he may be gorgeous, and if he’d been nice, then every cell of my body would be melting. Unfortunately, he’s Travis and he hates me for reasons I can’t even begin to question or understand.
“Smart.” I raise my voice above the lashing storm and rolling crash of thunder. And no matter how much I want to, I refuse to look away. “We need to cut this off early, like now, and let people who can, go home, and the rest can make themselves useful during this shit show.”
Because I know from what I’ve glimpsed out the window, there will be calls.
