Page 27 of Avery's Hero

The locker room on the left.

Reeves pointed out the women’s locker room on my station house tour. Not that I could tell because there is no signage.

“We’re doing the whole building,” he said when he pointed to a pile of discarded plastic signs laying in the corner. The pile hasn’t moved since yesterday, so I take it that the project isn’t a top priority.

My clothes are already getting stiff with dried avocado when I pull them off. I can’t wait to get it off my skin. It’s itchy and flaky.

Thankfully, it only takes a few seconds for the shower to get up to temp. I groan happily as I slide under the perfect, hot spray.

One thing the Lynn’s Cove Fire Department has going for it is a great water heater. Last night, I shaved,conditioned, and soaked until I was a prune. It was a dreamy indulgence. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t plan to do it tonight too.

My last apartment had a pathetic excuse for a water heater. The damned thing must have been the size of a Big Gulp cup. I got to be an expert in strategic showering.

But here…

I tilt my head back and let the fat stream of hot water course over my face as steam fills the air. God, it feels good. A girl could get spoiled on this.

When I open my eyes, I look around for my shampoo. Nowhere in sight. I peek outside the shower to see if I left it on the bench. Not there either. “Drats. I can’t believe I forgot shampoo.”

There’s no way I can skip washing my hair this time. The avocado’s got to go.

Snatching my towel, I half dry off. I’m only going to be gone a few seconds, so I don’t even bother turning the water off.

A quick peek out the door confirms that no one is around, so I dash for the bunk room. I know that I’m probably leaving wet footprints on the floor.

I can just hear the chief bitching about the ‘fall hazard,’ but hardly anyone uses this area of the building from what I can tell.

Luckily, my shampoo is right where I left it. On the windowsill. Gripping my towel and the big pink bottle, I rush back into the hall.

I skid to a stop when I hear men’s voices. Oh crap! For a second, I don’t know whether to go back to the bunk room or sprint for the shower.

When I realize it’s Reeves at the bottom of the stepstalking on speaker phone, I go for it, and lunge through the door into the steam filled locker room. The water is still hissing out and the room is blanketed totally in thick mist.

“Whew… that was close.” I mutter as I unfurl my towel and reach up to hang it on the hook. Only there’s another towel there and a bunch of men’s shower stuff on the bench.

That’s when I scream.

Standing in front of me is a man.

Lord.Not just any man.

The high pitch sound coming from my throat peters off into a totally pathetic whimper.

Brock Mitchell. With a bar of soap clutched in his hand, lather spread across his thick chest, and a look in his eyes says he’s appreciating the view of my very naked body.

I stammer, “I am so sorry… I guess, I g-got the wrong locker room.”

He slowly looks me over. Toe to head and back down. His voice is all rough when he says, “Depends. It might be the right locker room.”

I gulp as Brock smooths his hands over his body, rinsing the lather and my sanity right down the drain.

“Depends on what?” I croak.

“Whether you’d like to join me and really run our careers off the road once and for all.”

Oh. My. God. “Uh…”

He grins, then tips his head back under the spray and closes his eyes. “I’ll just keep my eyes closed and pretend that I didn’t just see your glorious naked tits if you want.”

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