Page 26 of Bunker Down, Baby

He gives me one last look, eyes flicking to my lips and back again, then grabs his coffee from the workbench and downs the last of it.

“Can’t leave a damsel in distress,” he says.

Oh, honey. You have no idea.

I wave, back away, nearly bump into a tire, and make myself walk out of the shop like I’m not seconds from spontaneously combusting from the sheer sexual menace standing in a puddle of grease behind me.

As soon as I hit the car?

I shriek into the steering wheel.

He’s coming. He’s coming. And if all goes according to plan?

So am I.

Chapter Six

Maple

It’s ridiculous how excited I am.

Like, full-body, giddy-sick butterflies kind of excited. I’m standing by the generator with a chilled La Croix in one hand and a syringe of mild tranquilizer in my back pocket like it’s a damn accessory. Fashion but make it felony.

I double-check everything. The cord is unplugged just enough to simulate a problem, nothing dramatic, nothing that’ll make him suspicious. Just a loose wire and a confused damsel with damp lips and big eyes.

The sun is barely up, but the lights in the hallway flicker just enough to make this feel like a horror movie. Or a seduction. Honestly, same vibe.

And then I hear truck tires on gravel.

I squeal. Literally squeal. And then I take a deep breath and settle. Not too giddy. Just casual. Cool. Sweet but flustered. He’ll like that.

When he knocks, I open the door like I wasn’t waiting right behind it.

“Hey,” I say, all smiles and sunshine and probably way too much cleavage for seven-forty in the morning. “Come in, it’s right this way.”

He steps inside like he owns the place. No hesitation. Of course not. He’s a man who handles things. Men like Dean don’t hesitate. They stride in with their big boots and broad shoulders and they fix things like they were born for it.

His eyes flick down my body again, subtle, but definitely there, and my toes curl in my shoes.

“Still got power in the main room,” he says, glancing at the lights. “So I’m guessing this is an isolated setup?”

I nod like I totally didn’t sabotage it myself. “Yeah, just the generator that handles the fridge and freezer side. I keep a lot of bulk food. You know, in case of another shortage.”

He whistles low as I lead him to the back. “Smart. More people oughta think ahead.”

They should. They really, really should.

We reach the generator. He crouches automatically, like a lion sinking into its kill. His jeans stretch over thighs that should be illegal, and his shirt rides up just enough to show the waistband of his boxers and a sliver of lower back.

I’m about to faint. Or combust.

His fingers brush over the disconnected wire. “Ah, yeah. Looks like this one just came loose.” He starts tracing the line, hands working fast, distracted.

Now.

I slide closer.

He glances back at me, grinning. “You didn’t do this just to get me over here, did you?”

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