Page 19 of Breaking Free

“Sure thing,” he agreed, fighting back a grin. “Have a nice swim.”

TWO HOURS LATER, REEKINGof the marina water and fish, Tristan dragged his tired ass out of his truck and headed for the stairs. All he could think about was a hot shower and clean sheets when he finally hit the bed.

“You’re out late,” a soft feminine voice observed as he reached the steps. Glancing upward, he spotted Piper perched at the top, wearing short shorts and a fitted ribbed tank—stunning, as always.

“It’s 2 a.m. What are you doing out here?”

“Trying to keep cool.”

It had to be in the mid-80s, the near 100 percent humidity making it worse. “Excuse me?”

“The power is out. It’s hot and sticky out here, but stuffy and sweltering inside.”

He looked up at the dark building. “That’s not good. I need a shower.”

“You and me both.” She sat up suddenly, put her nose in the air, and sniffed. Leaning toward him, she sniffed again thengrimaced and pulled away. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you need it worse than me. Man, you are ripe.”

“Thanks for noticing,” he drawled, knowing he stank.

“I’m serious.” She waved a hand in front of her nose, still making a face. “What is that smell?”

“Fish, probably. Seaweed and stagnant water, most likely.”

“Ew! You went swimming in that? Why?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s say we got the bad guy and leave it at that.” He considered her as she fanned herself, skin glistening in the moonlight from perspiration, as miserable as he was. “Go grab some clothes.”

She blinked up at him in surprise and repeated, “Why?”

“I’m going to Rossi headquarters to shower. If you want one, you can come along.” He glanced at his phone. “You’ve got five minutes. That’s as long as I can stand to smell myself without doing something about it.”

With a grin, she sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. “Be right back.”

With seconds to spare, which surprised him, he opened the door for her to climb into the cab of his truck. She paused with her foot on the running board, glanced at his bare feet then up at him.

“What happened to your shoes?”

“My boots are in the back. I couldn’t stand the thought of putting my smelly feet into them.”

“And your socks?”

“They took a swim, too.”

Her lips curved upward, and he tried hard not to notice how beautiful she was. He failed.

“You’ve got an interesting job.”

“Tonight, yes. But the last three were as interesting as watching paint dry.”

“Ah...” Still grinning, she pulled herself up and planted her shapely ass on his leather seat. Something he didn’t even bother trying not to watch.

“Buckle up,” he ordered before he slammed the door.

He paused to adjust himself as he walked behind rather than in front of the truck to get to his side. Even in soggy, clinging, foul-smelling jeans, tired to the point of exhaustion, and doing his best not to think of her as anything but the girl next door, his cock refused to cooperate.

This was a bad idea. No way would it turn out well, but he slid into the cab of his truck next to her anyway.

INSTEAD OF HIS USUALfive-minute shower, he soaped everything twice to get rid of the stink and was out in ten. Then he stretched out on a couch in the downtime room with his eyes closed until he heard the soft thuds of feet on the tile floor.

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