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“Sir, the cameras are approaching.” My assistant stares at me with her lips pursed, holding out a windbreaker with the coast guard logo on it, reminding me that I was fucking bare-chested.
“Damn. Thank you, Taylor.” I take it from her, and she turns her head away, looking toward Fields, which pisses me off, especially since I catch him winking at her again.
“You’re welcome, Sir.” Her cheeks are pink for the hundredth time today, and I’m about to kill a motherfucker for making her so damn heated.
I barely have the damn thing zippered when the camera crew makes their way to me. “Mayor Payne, can we get a word?”
“Just a moment. The Mayor is busy at present,” Taylor says, halting them like the amazing assistant that she is.
I step in front of her and say, “You can speak with the operations director.” I direct their attention to the Storm Disaster team the state sent over this morning, trying to stay to the side of the camera. Taylor hands me a bottle of water.
“Here you go, Sir.”
Smiling, I whisper, “Thank you.” I open it and guzzle it quickly before the cameras are on me. With a brief message to the press, I excuse myself to address the rest of the town matters with my assistant beside me.
The sooner we get away from this place, the sooner I can handle the adrenaline coursing through me. Even tearing through that physical labor didn’t stop the violent jealousy that burned in my chest at the way my former naval mate flirted with Taylor.
She was mine, even if I couldn’t fucking have her.
Chapter Two
Taylor
Why does he have to be so sexy? A mayor who takes off his shirt and gets dirty. Of course, he was challenged by one of his former Navy buddies. I do my best to avoid looking at him while he works, but it’s my job to be by his side and also to remind him about his schedule while also being careful.
The mayor ignored me the entire time he worked, which was fair, given he was competing to show he could still be a badass. Brooks Payne didn’t need to do that because he carried himself like a champion every single day. That was obvious, but I suppose it's hard to pass up when you have someone challenging you, especially someone younger. Either way, I think he’s amazing—irresistibly amazing.
I watched as though I was a professional assistant worried about her boss, or so I pretended to be. In reality, I was a young woman stressing over the man she fantasizes about every night when she’s alone in her dark room with her hand between her legs, looking for relief.
Those fantasies are stupid for many reasons, but I can’t stop myself from having them. Brooks and I could never happen, even if we could get past the age difference. My father nearly killed him and took his career, which I can see still meant so much to him. Even as I watch him sweat, grunt, and work himself to the bone, the joy is in his hazel eyes.
The second Brooks pulled off his shirt, I licked my lips. It was foolish, and I quickly looked down at my tablet. I hoped no one saw me. I chide myself mentally. When I lift my head again, his buddy looks at me and tosses me a wink. I try to ignore it, but I think the man is onto me. Turning around, I see a television news van approaching. Damn. Walking up to the organizer, I ask, “Do you have a coat or something for Mayor Payne to wear?” I tilt my head toward our approaching guests.
“Oh, yes, ma’am. One moment.” He steps inside their trailer, coming out a moment later with an official Coast Guard wind jacket.
I take it and walk up to my boss, interrupting the pissing match and informing him of our company. He slides it on, and I can’t help but notice the way his muscle looks as he does. Damn it, I look away and catch his buddy, who winks at me again. I heard a low rumble, similar to a growl, that I could have sworn came from the mayor, but it was probably the wind quickly picking up.
We manage the media and thank the team of hard-working crew members. “He’s only around for the sandbagging. They are leaving right away,” he says as we start returning to the SUV.
I stop dead in my tracks and look up at him. The wind blows strands of hair in my scrunched-up face, so I brush it off as I try to understand what he’s talking about. “Who?”
He tilts his head toward the Navy men who are clearing the area. “Fields.” Does he think I’m interested in him?
“So,” I say, giving my boss a bit of an attitude. Hopefully, he drops the damn subject because this isn’t a conversation I want to have with him. I’ve seen him with his sister, but I’m not her. He doesn’t need to protect me like he does her. My heart can’t be protected by the only man holding a sledgehammer to it.
“Never mind,” he mutters, wiping his forehead with his shirt, which is still half wet from his sweat.
“Okay.” Sometimes I don’t understand this man. Perhaps it’s the age gap. I follow him into the waiting vehicle, and he stares at me strangely when the door closes. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” He reaches over me and taps on the divider, telling the driver, “We’re ready.” I sneakily breathe in the musky scent of his sweat. Damn, how does he smell so good after working hard? Slowly and without drawing attention to myself, I press my legs together, attempting to get that friction.
“Yes, sir.” We begin moving and notice he appears more irritated, grimacing, and I wonder if he exerted himself too much. Yes, he works out once a day and is finally recovering from his injuries, but today was intense, and it’s different from the strength training regime that he’s used to.
“Does your leg hurt?” I ask.
“My damn leg’s fine,” he barks out. I clamp my mouth shut, revert my attention back to my tablet, and check the agenda for the day.
When I see that he is meeting with the police chief and some council members later, I say, “Sir, perhaps we should stop and get you a change of clothes.”
