The Day I Saved Wonder Woman

*An Emmett/Bella one-shot written for the Babies at the Borders Compilation*

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Nobody from around here would ever attempt a left out of Copes' Coffee Shop during morning rush hour. Nope, whoever was behind the wheel of that beat-up Ford Fiesta couldn't have been a local.

They'd first have to cut across the swift-moving westbound reverse-commuters, then somehow squeeze into my lane, which was doing its usual rush-hour crawl toward the city but ten times worse because of the rain. You could barely slide a gum wrapper between two bumpers in the inbound lane. Adding a whole car-length would piss people off, and you really don't want to piss off Massachusetts drivers—especially on their way to work—which is something else a local would've known.

"I got a bad feeling about this, Marmaduke." Duke panted harder when he heard his name. "Hey, man, you mind? You're fogging up the windows." I cracked our windows a few inches because dog breath, and Duke pushed his snout toward the fresh air.

I squinted through the sheeting rain to get a closer look at the driver—a woman with long hair, I could see now. Her lips were moving, and her hands flailed around like she was fighting with someone, but there was nobody else in her car. A tall cup of coffee bounced around in her right hand like a martini shaker. She looked to be working up a full head of steam.

She nosed the car out into the sea of traffic. My scalp tingled. Maybe where this chick came from, people stopped for that kinda move, but around here, all it'll get you is angry honks and rude gestures. She got plenty of both.

I was starting to feel protective. I wasn't okay with that.

Up to this point, my morning had been going along just fine. I mean, sure, it was the butt-crack of dawn, but that was the job, and how many guys got to be through with their workday at three o'clock? I can't say I love digging trenches in the rain, but hey, not like we're gonna melt. No use being a pussy about it.

The bumper-to-bumper sucked balls, but Kirk and Callahan kept me entertained, yapping about last night's Sox game on WEEI. I inched my truck forward, still a full car-length back from where this chick seemed hell-bent on causing an accident. A loud blare of a horn caused her to retreat, but it was only temporary. Seconds later, her grille was overhanging the edge of Route 20 again, nearly getting swiped by the outbound cars speeding past at a steady clip.

"You're a tenacious one; I'll give you that." If Duke had an opinion, he kept it to himself.

The car in front of me rolled forward. I held my ground. If this chick was determined to crash the party, I wasn't about to get in her way.

Okay, lady. I've got this side stopped for you . . .

The Fiesta charged into the road. She cut off the oncoming car, and it veered toward me going forty miles an hour.

"Holy shit! Hang on, Duke!" I held my breath and threw my arm across Duke's chest.

My heart hammered against my chest like it was trying to cross state lines without the rest of me. Miraculously, the other driver avoided both the lunatic and me, while the Fiesta barreled across the road, hydroplaned over the pavement inches from the front of my truck, and spun a one-eighty on the muddy shoulder before skidding to a sloppy stop.

"Fuck me!" A flood of adrenaline washed over me and released into a million tiny prickles all over my skin. "Y'okay there, boy?"

Duke woofed. I brushed my fingers down his chest, not sure if I was comforting him or myself.

I looked over at the miraculously untouched car on the side of the road. Steam hissing from her undercarriage was the only indication of the death-defying act that had just taken place. Through my pulsing wipers, I could make out the girl hunched over the dash, her arms wrapped around the steering wheel. Shit.

The voices blaring from my radio, the overblown banter of two grown men yelling about last night's baseball game, struck me as obscene in the aftermath of what had nearly been lost. I turned down the volume, pulled out of the line of traffic, and parked behind her car stranded on the shoulder. It was a bonehead move—I'd kick my little brother's ass if he ever pulled something so goddamn dicey—but I couldn't shake this primal instinct to make sure she was okay.

"I'll be right back," I told Duke. "Don't go anywhere." Duke whined out a warning, then wedged his snout into the window opening as if to say, "You're on your own, stupid human."

I plucked my phone from my back pocket and tossed it onto the seat—I may be crazy, but I'm not dumb enough to take my phone out in a downpour. Here goes nothing.

If not for the sideways rain, I might have approached her more slowly, but as it was, I was practically drenched as soon as I jumped out of my truck. I jogged over to her car and knocked on the window. She bolted upright in her seat and gasped, hand to her heart, mouth hinged open with fright. Two lanes of oncoming traffic didn't faze her, but I did? Lady, you've got some interesting wiring there.

I cupped my hands against the window and peered inside. Damn, she was hot, the kind of girl I'd swipe right in a heartbeat, which didn't change the fact she was batshit crazy.

Her airbag hadn't opened, and I couldn't see any blood or unnaturally angled limbs. In fact, the part of her legs I could see, which was, sadly, only the bit from the skirt down, appeared to be not only still attached but long and sexy to boot.

I yelled over the noise of traffic and rain and whatever god-awful country music was coming from her radio. "Are you hurt?"

She seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head.

"Need help?" I shouted.

She turned off the radio and blinked up at me. "What?"

I tapped on the window so she'd roll it down. She looked confused. I couldn't tell if she had banged her head on something, if she was scared of me, or if she was just a total space shot. None of the options was particularly encouraging.

I tried again, motioning down, down, down, like I was dribbling an imaginary basketball, then pointed to the button on her door. She got it, finally, and gave me a few inches to talk through.

"I asked if you need help." I spread my arms wide across the window opening so she wouldn't get drenched.

"I don't know . . . I'm going to be very late for the most important interview of my life, and I just spilled a large iced coffee all over my brand-new blouse."

Indeed she had. I tried hard not to stare at the milky-brown material clinging to her bra, but being a total breast guy, I had to remind my eyeballs to stay on task. "You're also stuck in the mud, and you've got at least one flat tire," I added helpfully.

"I do?" She checked her dashboard, which confirmed what I could clearly see. "Shit!" A tear rolled down her cheek.

Oh man. Tears destroy me.

"This is not happening," she said in a dull monotone, more to herself than me.

I whipped out my most disarming smile. "You want a hug or something?"

She turned and regarded me as if she'd completely forgotten I was standing there, and remembering wasn't exactly joyous. "A hug? Are you seriously hitting on me right now?"

"No! Of course not! I'm actually a really nice guy."

Her hysterical, hollow laughter chilled my blood. I'd heard about people going into shock, but I had no idea what the hell to do about it.

"Hey, you need me to call 911 for you?"

"What?" Her gaze snapped to mine. She grabbed her phone from the cup holder, which explained why she'd been holding her coffee. "I'm all set, thanks," she said, waggling her phone so I could see it.

"Okay." I felt like first-date guy, standing on the girl's front stoop, trying to work out if he should risk moving in for the kiss or head back to his car while he still had a little pride.

"Look," she said, "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. Really."

This Good Samaritan gig wasn't working out so well. This chick didn't even want me here, and I had my own job to get to. I didn't love the idea of abandoning her, but the road wasn't exactly deserted.

"Okay . . . well, I guess I'll go."

She huffed. "Yep, unless you happen to have a clean white blouse or a time machine, I think I'm on my own."

"How about a black T-shirt and a pickup truck?" It was a question of sorts, but I didn't give her a chance to respond. Reaching over my head, I peeled off my damp shirt and wedged it through the window opening and into her lap.

She gawped at my bare chest, then back at the shirt. "I can't wear this!"

"Why not? I took it off the clean pile this morning." I sniffed my pits just to be sure—nope, nothing offensive happening there.

She held up my shirt and read the logo out loud: "'Emmett's Irrigation, we make you wet.' Really?"

I shrugged. "The boss has a bit of a warped sense of humor. What can I say?"

Her gaze lingered on my abs, and I flexed, not obvious or anything, just . . . tightening up. "Probably best if you say nothing."

"Hey, you think that one's bad? You're lucky you didn't almost kill me during the winter!"

The "almost kill me" part made her eyes flash, but her curiosity won out. "I'm afraid to ask, but what's your winter shirt say?"

"Emmett's Snow Removal; we plow you all night long." I shot her a proud grin. That little burst of marketing genius had won us the Town Crier's "Best of Waltham 2018."

A hint of a smile played at her lips. Finally. "Clearly, this Emmett's a funny guy."

"Hilarious," I agreed, "but his feelings won't be hurt if you turn the shirt inside out."

"Good idea," she said, flipping the shirt to the plain side in a swift, smooth motion.

She unbuckled her seat belt and wriggled out of her suit jacket. Her gaze shifted to mine, not exactly a come-in-and-make-yourself-at-home.

I think I blushed for the first time since eighth grade, mumbled "Sorry," and spun around, pressing my back to her window. I'd be damned if the rubbernecking commuters were going to see my speed demon's tits if I couldn't. "Hey, I have a tarp in the back of my truck. Want me to cover your windows?" I asked, chivalrous to the core.

"Nope. I'm done."

"What? Already?" I twirled around as she tugged the T-shirt over her stomach. I could've sworn I saw a gold hoop. Damn! I'm a sucker for belly button jewelry. "How'd you do that so quick?"

"Summer camp."

"Impressive." And so was the way she filled out that top. "My shirt looks way better on you," I blurted.

The compliment reached the corners of her eyes, which sparkled as they raked down my chest as far as the window pane allowed. "You seem to be doing just fine without it."

"Oh yeah?" I pressed a mini push-up against the roof of her car.

She rolled her eyes, but gratitude had softened her. "Thank you for the shirt and everything, but I need to figure out how the hell I'm getting to this interview while I still have a chance at this job." She craned her neck toward the long snake of cars backed up with no end in sight. "I don't suppose I could catch an Uber anytime soon . . ."

"What about your car?"

"I don't have time to deal with that right now," she said.

"So you're just gonna ditch it?"

She shrugged.

Chicks.

"Where's your interview?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

"It's on the waterfront. Three Harbor Towers?"

I knew the place, a fancy shmancy office building for corporate-types. "I can give you a lift."

"Really? It's on your way?"

Only an hour or so past the job site. I scoffed. "Close enough."

Her expression turned cautious, and she gave my face a long, hard look. "You don't have any guns in your truck, do you?"

"Guns? I install sprinkler systems. What am I gonna do with a gun?"

"Is that a no, then?" Wow, she was focused.

"Nope, no guns." I had at least five shovels, but I decided it was best not to mention those.

She started gathering stuff into her purse, then stopped mid-zip to throw another question at me: "Did you vote for Trump?"

"What?"

"I asked if you voted for—"

"No! Why? Did you?" Suddenly, it mattered very much.

"Hell no! I'm an immigration lawyer . . . or at least, that's what I'm trying to be—if I can get to this interview before I lose my chance." Okay, maybe she wasn't the best driver, but there was a decent heart beating inside that T-shirt of mine.

"Well, c'mon, then! Quit messing around, and get in my truck already! Unless you have more questions on your checklist for me . . .?"

"You're sure you don't mind?"

The only thing I was sure of was that trying to keep up with this chick's abrupt shifts from aggressive to scared to demanding to sweet had me feeling like a trapeze artist without a net.

"Hey, what kind of a guy would leave a damsel in distress at the side of the road?"

"To be honest, probably most of the guys I've dated," she answered. My, what an interesting door you've opened, fair damsel.

"Well, that sucks."

"Psh. Tell me about it."

It seemed she was the one with the stories to tell, but we didn't have time to delve. "Your chariot awaits . . ." Considering my jeans were starting to soak through to my skin, I'd say my little bow was awfully classy. From her grin, I'd say she thought so, too.

She peered through her windshield at the rain coming down in buckets. "My umbrella's in the trunk."

I laughed. "I'm sure it'll stay nice and dry back there."

She set her big, brown, puppy-dog eyes on me. "I hate to ask . . ."

"Pop the latch," I said, already trudging to the back of her car. Yep, there it was. Wouldn't keep her right pinky dry in this stuff, but I opened the umbrella for her anyway and waited by her door.

"Thank you." She closed the window, and when it looked like she was ready to go, I opened her door.

Damn! I was right about the legs. Long and lean and flashing just enough thigh to jump-start my imagination. I couldn't help checking them out as her perfect, pointy heel poked out of the car.

"Whoa! Wait!" I yelled. She froze, her foot suspended inches above the muck. "You're gonna ruin your shoes!"

"Crap." She pulled her leg back inside the car.

"Lemme guess. You left your boots at home?"

"I wasn't planning to go for a hike in a monsoon when I left my apartment this morning." Her pretty lips quivered. Fuck.

"Okay, okay. Here, hold this."

She took the umbrella handle from me, and I bent to scoop her up.

"What are you doing?"

"I didn't think you'd be up for a piggyback ride, what with the skirt and all."

She blinked at me. I figured she was busy weighing the certainty of wrecking her shoes against all the terrifying possibilities inspired by a half-naked, pick-up-driving stranger she'd just met at the side of the road. I wasn't sure I'd come out ahead.

"Look . . . counselor, I am happy to give you the shirt off my back, but I ain't giving up my Timberlands, so it's either me or the mud."

My political leanings must have tipped the scales toward trusting me. After a deep breath, she pulled her lower lip behind her teeth and nodded. Now we're getting somewhere.

"Okay!" I nodded back, then reached into the car before she could change her mind. She scooted to the edge of her seat, and I slipped one arm around her slim shoulders and another under her knees. Her skirt rode up a little when I pulled her into my arms. I pretended not to notice.

Lifting a skinny girl wasn't exactly taxing. I lug heavy things around for a living—shovels and pipes and heavy bags of crushed stone—but mostly I throw those things over my shoulder; something told me she wouldn't have appreciated that. The Officer and a Gentleman move looks suave as hell in the movies, but it's not so easy in real life when the person you're trying to carry is about as cooperative as a sack of fertilizer.

"You think you could maybe hold onto me?"

She regarded me as if this might be a trick. I wished, not for the first time, that I'd kept my generous offer of a hug to myself.

"Y'know, dropping you would really bruise my ego. Mind?"

Either my self-effacing humor won her over, or she really was afraid I'd drop her in the mud. She snaked her free hand behind my neck, her fingers recoiling as soon as she touched my wet hair. "You're soaked!"

"Uh . . . yeah." It seemed too obvious to point out that she had more than a little to do with my predicament.

Her cheeks pinked up and she tried to look away, but there are only so many places eyeballs can go at close range. "You're really sweet to do this," she said, curling her fingers into my hair. We had a real connection—she even relaxed against my shoulder—for the few seconds it took me to carry her to the driver's side of my truck.

I dipped so she could open the door. Duke let out a woof. The girl snapped back and let out a squeak. She scanned the front seat, her eyes growing wide as they landed on Duke. "Oh my god! He's huge!"

"You're not allergic to dogs, are you?"

"Nooo . . ." I could hear the panic starting to take hold in the rising quiver of her voice.

"Okay, phew. Don't worry about him. He's a big teddy bear."

She wasn't quite buying my teddy bear line, but she'd come too far to turn back now. I had to admire her pluck. She grasped the handle and opened the door. I eased her into the cab behind the steering wheel. My hands slid off her body just when they were starting to feel at home. Damn shame. I gave the umbrella a rough shake, closed it, and tossed it onto the floor.

"Say hello to Duke." I reached over the very anxious girl and scratched Duke behind the ears. "It's okay, boy. This nice lady's having some car trouble, and we're gonna help her out. Duke, meet . . . uh, I just realized I never asked your name."

"It's Bella," she answered. "And you are . . .?"

"I'm Emmett."

She cracked a smirk. "Of course you are. The warped boss."

"In the flesh," I said with a wink.

"Literally!" Her eyes danced along my slick chest.

"Yup. So . . . I'm gonna need a little more room here . . ."

"Oh." Bella looked at Duke; Duke looked at her. He wasn't exactly sure about this, but then, neither was she. They'd figure it out.

Meanwhile, I stood with my ass hanging out in the storm, getting wetter by the second.

"Sorry to squeeze you in the middle, but Duke likes the window seat, and that's pretty much where he's gonna end up whether you're sitting there or not."

Bella inched her ass along the seat. Duke sniffed at her shirt, which was my shirt, and turned back to the open window.

"You passed the sniff test," I told her, laughing as I jumped in. My wet jeans slapped against the vinyl, dripping like a beach towel pulled out of a swimming pool.

"I think he thinks I'm you," she said, which made me laugh harder.

"Pretty sure Duke can tell the difference, but yeah, it doesn't hurt that you smell like me. At least, part of you, I mean. I'm sure the rest of you smells a lot better than me—not that I stink or anything." Good god! Stop babbling, fool!

Bella started to giggle. I should've felt embarrassed because she was totally laughing at me, but honestly, it made me unreasonably happy to see her loosen up. I was more than a little proud of myself for brightening her mood. "I'll just go ahead and shut up now." Happy for the diversion, I cranked the key in the ignition.

Poor Bella was making herself as small as possible between the very large dog on one side of her and the very wet man on the other—and doing a pretty good job of it until I shifted into reverse. As I turned to look over my right shoulder, I threw my arm over the seat as I always do. (In my defense, when your regular passenger is a dog with zero boundaries, you tend not to worry about personal space.)

In retrospect, maybe I should have been a little more careful with her, especially in my half-naked state, but as I backed up the truck, Bella's nose ended up midway between my nipple and my armpit. It was awkwardly arousing—for me anyway. I didn't chance a look at Bella's reaction, but I was secretly pleased that when push came to shove, she'd chosen me over the dog. No hard feelings, fella.

As I lifted my arm over her head again to shift the truck into drive, Bella pulled back with a muffled, "Sorry."

"No worries," I answered because "My pleasure" seemed like a fucking creepy thing to say.

"Just for the record," she said quietly, "you smell good, too." She was doing that thing with her lip again. Fuck me.

"Why, thank you." I let my grin free because, well, wow. If she didn't have that interview to get to, and I didn't have that job waiting for me . . . but she did and I did, so we couldn't.

I fastened my seat belt and nosed forward until someone waved me into the slow-moving lane. See? This is how sane people do it, I was tempted to say, but Bella and I were kind of in a groove, and I didn't want to spoil it.

"I guess I better make a phone call and see if I still have a job to interview for." She unzipped her purse and started digging.

"Fingers crossed," I replied. I was slipping into a pretty great alternate reality scenario where her interview was called off, and we were heading to a hotel instead; a warm bath and room service and—

A sharp trill cut into my daydream. I was confused at first, thinking the noise was coming from Bella's phone, until I realized the floor was vibrating. I glanced down at my brother's ugly mug lighting up my phone screen. The only way to reach the damn thing would have been to plant my head between Bella's knees and fumble around on the floor between her legs. Not that that wouldn't have been fun, but I opted to pick up on Bluetooth—the only drawback being my loose cannon of a brother would be on speaker.

"Good morning, sunshine," I said as pleasantly as possible. Edward was not the sunshine type, which Bella was about to find out.

"You can shove your sunshine, buddy. Where the fuck are you?"

I felt Bella stiffen beside me.

I checked the dash: 7:45. Crap, I should have been at the jobsite fifteen minutes ago.

"Traffic's a bitch—"

"Save the sorry-ass excuses, man. What's your ETA?"

"Um . . ." My gaze floated to Bella's. She looked mortified.

"Goddammit, Emmett! Jessica won't let us dig up a single blade of her precious yard until she sees your face—or should I say, your ass? I swear, that cougar has a queen-sized lady-boner for you, which is all good and well, but I've got three guys on the clock, standing around with their thumbs up their asses. What do you suggest I do, hmm?"

"Calm down, bro. You'll be laying pipe before lunch—well, in the ground anyway."

"Ho, ho, ho. Y'know, that never gets old."

"I'll give Jessica a call and smooth it over, okay? Just sit tight."

"Calm down. Sit tight. Any other words of wisdom, chief?"

"Actually, yes. Call Jasper and have him meet me at the Stanleys with the tow truck."

"Why?"

"Because there's a car stuck in the mud on Route 20 in Watertown." I stole a glance at Bella, who was beaming you're-my-hero lasers into the side of my face. "Oh, and tell him to bring me a clean shirt, will ya?"

"Why? What happened to your—"

"Gotta go. Thanks for holding down the fort. Talk soon!" Click.

Holding her forgotten phone in her hand, Bella sat gawping at me. "He didn't sound too happy."

"He hasn't been happy since Jersey Shore got canceled."

"I'm sorry, Emmett. I feel like I got you in trouble."

"Hey, let's not forget whose name you're wearing on your chest." She folded her arms over said chest and shot me a cross look. Whoops. "What I meant was, I'm the boss. I can't get in trouble with my own crew."

"No, just the cougar with a boner," she shot back.

"Thanks for the reminder!" Yeah, I really needed to call Jessica, but there wasn't enough room in this truck for two phone calls at once. "Why don't you make your call first?"

"Oh! Right!" She turned her attention to her phone, scrolled through until she found the number, then placed the call, mouthing, "Thank you" to me while it rang. "Uh, hello, Mr. Jenks? Yes, it's Bella Swan. I've had some . . . car trouble, and . . . No, I'm okay, but I'm running a little later than expected . . . Mmhmm, right . . . yes . . . true." I was pleased to hear her tension fall away as the conversation went on, and by the end, a giant smile had broken across her face. "Thank you. Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can. Thank you so much for understanding. Right. Bye."

She tipped her head back, held her phone to her heart, and released a huge sigh of relief.

"Sounds like your call went a little better than mine," I said.

She turned her head and shared her beautiful smile with me. "I really, really want to work for this man."

"What'd he say?"

"He told me that all the families they were trying to help would still need help in an hour, and I should get there when I get there and not stress about it."

"Do you think you can find out if he has any irrigation needs so I can work for him too?"

A soft chuckle left her. "First chance I get. Promise. Though it might be a tough sell while it's raining cats and dogs."

"True. Maybe wait till the rain lets up a little."

Traffic poked along, and for once, I didn't mind the snail's pace. The more time I had with Bella, the better—not that Duke wasn't great company, but he didn't give me butterflies in my gut.

"So you are really going to the front lines to help reunite families?"

"I am. The firm is located in Boston, but they've established a field office in Brownsville, and they're sending a team to El Paso next week."

It wasn't hard to get Bella talking about the work. Her passion and knowledge on the subject ran deep: how she'd learned what was happening in the detention facilities, how she started researching the whole shitstorm, how her heart broke for the families that were separated for good. She'd done her homework on the law firms and agencies working to help, and as soon as she heard this J. Jenks interviewed on Rachel Maddow, she'd sent him her resume.

It wasn't every day I got to spend time talking, really talking, with a smart, high-powered lawyer. I would have been intimidated by her brains and drive if not for the fact that she was so genuine and compassionate.

"So, basically, you're a superhero," I informed her, "which makes me your sidekick." Yeah, I liked that.

A little smirk played at her lips. "You mean like Batman and Robin?"

"Um, no. We are way hotter than those two . . . more like Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor."

"But not the movie version where he dies," she added.

"Definitely not." I was pleased she wasn't ready to kill me off just yet.

"The only problem is," she said, "your superhero costume kind of screams Incredible Hulk."

"True, I'll admit this whole gig caught me a bit off guard. But can you explain why Steve Trevor was always dressed for winter when Wonder Woman was running around with like eighty percent of her skin exposed. What's that about?"

Bella giggled. "I think you might be the first guy I've ever met who complained about that."

"Oh, I'm not complaining about the lack of coverage, believe me. Seriously, though, you're kind of amazing, Bella Swan. You know that?" She was blushing up a storm, but I was glad I didn't miss my chance to tell her.

"Hmm. I'm not sure how much stock I can put in your compliments; you were pretty impressed by my quick shirt-change. Maybe you're just easy to impress?"

"Hey! That was damn impressive!" I grinned at her, and she shook her head and huffed adorably. My attention snapped back to that quick change, specifically the last few inches disappearing behind my dark shirt. "So, do I know you well enough now to ask you a personal question?"

"I . . . guess?"

I licked my lips, which had suddenly gone bone-dry. "Is that . . . did I see . . . jewelry?" My gaze found its target though I couldn't make out anything through my shirt. Damn you, Edward, for going with the premium heavyweight cotton.

Her hand followed my eyeballs, moving to her belly. "Oh. Did you?"

"Mm-hmm." Our eyes met for a long beat until it felt like someone had ratcheted up the temperature in the truck by twenty degrees.

Her thumb brushed across the area where the hoop must have been. I was riveted—dangerously so, considering the stop-and-go traffic. She was making me weak with desire, and she totally knew it.

"Yeah, I mean you might have seen it. It's there." Okay, now she was definitely teasing me. I didn't hate it.

"Huh. I thought so," I replied, pretty damn proud of myself for not begging.

"Would you like to s—"

"YES!" Eh, pride was overrated. Besides, I got to hear her laugh again.

"Promise to keep your eyes on the road?" she asked.

I was boxed in but good. The truth was not going to get me a glimpse of that belly ring; if she lifted her shirt, I knew where my eyeballs would be. But what kind of a fool lies to a lawyer? Crap.

"I'd like to say yes, but I don't want to . . . perjure myself or whatever. I promise to try to keep one eye on the road. Ish."

She shifted toward me, carefully considering my answer. "Hmm."

"But . . . I'm an outstanding driver, so even with one eye, we're good." There. That ought to do it.

"Is that right?" she asked, her lips curled upward with amusement. At least she was enjoying herself. "You know, I wasn't going to say anything because you've been so nice and everything, but you're the reason I pulled into the road when I did."

Hackles up . . .

"WHAT? Me? How do you figure?"

"You let me in."

"To my lane!"

"Well, that's more than anyone else was doing." Was she serious right now?

"I just figured maybe I could save half the people on the road from getting hit. I certainly didn't do anything to encourage you to pull out in front of speeding cars!" Shit! "Did I?"

The sweet, belly-bejeweled girl wearing my T-shirt morphed into the take-no-prisoners attorney in her element: owning the courtroom, striding confidently in her perfect pumps and power suit, her blouse crisp and white.

She approaches the witness box, where I'm trapped like a drowned rat—shirtless and soaked, squirming even though I'm innocent—and starts firing questions.

"Did you wave the plaintiff into oncoming traffic?"

"No! I couldn't have waved. My window was only open a crack. It was pouring that day."

"Hmm. Did you flash your headlights?"

"No! She wouldn't have seen them anyway. I just stopped my truck. That's literally all I did!"

"Please just answer the question, Mr. McCarty," she says, her sharp mind plotting out where to jab next. "Did you make eye contact?"

"Um . . . maybe?"

"No, you didn't," real-life Bella answered, softer than before. Maybe she recognized my rising hysteria. In any case, she shrugged. "I had to take a chance."

Relief coursed through me. I hated to think she blamed me in any way. But I was also pissed because she put a lot of people at risk, including me and Duke. "That was one hell of a chance."

"I know." I couldn't hear any remorse, which kind of surprised me, based on who I thought she was.

"You're a little bit crazy, aren't you?" That line graph popped into my head, the one that maps out crazy on the vertical axis and hot on the other and indicates the zones safe for dating. This chick just took a serious jump toward the top right quadrant—seriously crazy and seriously hot. Danger Zone.

"I guess I am," she answered, utterly uninsulted. "Let me ask you something, Emmett."

"Okay?" I held my breath. It was a little scary but strangely exciting not to be able to predict where her thoughts would take her next.

"How many totally sane people do you know who would willingly walk into an almost-certainly losing battle every day?"

I had to mull that one over pretty hard. I thought about soldiers heading to war. What were their motives? I'm sure I didn't know. How about firefighters rushing into a burning building, but was that a losing battle? Not if they could save even one person, I supposed. An immigration lawyer fighting upstream against the tidal wave of ever-changing laws and seemingly hopeless situations would definitely qualify as an almost-certainly losing battle. No, I wouldn't have called any of those people "totally sane."

"I guess you've got a point there."

She smiled, grateful. But she also moved her hand away from her shirt. "Maybe when we're not moving?"

It wasn't a no. I could live with that.

"I'll look forward to it," I said with an agreeable chuckle.

"Shouldn't you be calling your cougar?" Way to spoil the mood, lady.

"She's not 'mine,'" I answered, unable to help the eyeroll whenever the customer in question came to mind. Jessica Stanley was a piece of work, a pee-suh, as my brothers and I not-so-lovingly referred to the entitleds we often serviced.

Bella gave me a knowing look, and I could see that she was going to make a very fine lawyer. Her bullshit meter was well calibrated.

I sighed louder than I meant to. "Let's get this over with." For a second, I contemplated fishing around for my phone, but given Bella's views on distracted driving—and trying to set a good example for her—I decided enlisting her help was a wiser strategy. "Could you hand me my phone, please?"

"Sure thing." She bent to retrieve my phone. "Want me to call her for you and tell her you dropped everything to help a damsel in distress at the side of the road?"

I barked out a sharp laugh. "Not when she's the 'everything' I dropped!"

Her eyes glinted with delight. "Fine. What's your password?"

"What?"

"I'll unlock your phone for you." She glanced up at me over the top of my phone. There was one person in the whole world who knew my password, and that was me. This chick was—

Aw, fuck it. "Three eight five three," I said.

She grinned as she tapped in the code, pleased as hell to have wrangled this sensitive information out of me. "Any significance to that?" she had the further nerve to ask.

My jaw dropped, not so much because she asked, but because I was about to tell her. "It spells out 'Duke' on the keypad."

Upon hearing his name, Duke pulled his face from the window and laughed at me.

"Aww, that's sweet," Bella said. "Okay, we're unlocked and ready to go. Jessica . . . Stanley, was it? Right, here she is!" Before I could stop her, Bella had dialed. Each ring sent a new shiver down my spine.

Click. "It's 7:57." Jessica's unhappy report bounced off the roof and doors of my truck and lodged in the pain center of my brain. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago."

Bella made a YIKES face. I attempted to smile, hoping it might leak out into my tone. I believe I failed.

"Good morning, Jessica."

"Not yet," she answered tightly. "Tell me, Emmett, why are we having this conversation by phone instead of in person?" Yuck. Whiny, my least favorite dwarf.

"I had an emergency this morning. I'm very sorry I can't be there, but my crew is all set to go, and my brother Edward is more than capable of—"

"I didn't hire Edward. I hired you."

Bella tapped my shoulder, making me all the more acutely aware that I had a witness to my very thorough emasculation. I met Bella's gaze with great reluctance and found her shaking her head violently from side to side.

"Huh?"

Jessica groaned. "I said I hired you. My contract is not with your brother and not with your crew."

Bella whipped her finger around in a big circle, pointing to me and what seemed to be an imaginary army. Oh!

"Technically, you hired my company . . ." I started, emboldened by Bella's encouragement, "so as much as I will do my best to get there as soon as I can, my crew is quite capable of starting the job without me." Bella had become a cheerleader-mime, pumping her imaginary pompoms in the air, silently screaming YES, and drumming her feet on the floor.

No response from Jessica. I waited, heart in my throat, for her response. Much as I seemed to have the law on my side, she could certainly make the situation painful if she chose to. I glanced at Bella; her ears were pricked up, too. I liked the feeling that we were in this together. I wondered if our attorney-client privilege would help me get a date with Bella.

"When do you think you'll be here?" Jessica asked, more desperate plea than threat. At least it seemed that way to me.

I could have comfortably promised her 9:30, but if I'd learned anything dealing with women like Jessica Stanley, setting up for a happy surprise was a better strategy than allowing for a bitter disappointment. "I should be there by ten," I said.

Jessica would want to feel like she won, so I let her lob the final grenade. "I'll expect a full status report then," she said.

"Of course, Jessica. See you soon."

I couldn't press the button fast enough to end the call. She was a pee-suh, all right. I let out the tense breath I'd been holding.

"You did really well," Bella said.

"Thanks for the assist, counselor."

"No charge," she said, tucking the phone between us on the seat. "You know what they say about a woman scorned."

"But why all the scorn? I didn't even do anything."

She shifted in her seat. I was pleased to see she'd uncoiled from the tight, tense ball who'd entered my truck. "That's kind of the point. She expected something you failed to deliver. Now she's angry."

"I have no intention of delivering anything but what's written in the contract: a six-zone system controller with a total of thirty sprinkler heads and drip tapes for eight flower beds."

"Okay. Good luck with that."

I laughed. "Just because she has some ideas in her head doesn't mean I am going to let her have her way with me."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Bella said, "because this whole 'Me Too' thing works both ways."

"Exactly!" Ah! She so got me.

"This must happen to you a lot."

"Why do you say that?"

"Oh, just a wild guess," she said. "I'm sure you can be quite charming when you're in sales mode."

"Sales mode, huh? I'm not in sales mode now. Am I not charming?" I tapped the brakes so I could give her a long, searching look without causing an accident. The driver behind us laid on the horn. Some people have no respect for romance.

"I would say you have a certain allure," she answered finally.

"Thanks. You're certainly alluring too," I said. This wasn't going anywhere while we were still driving. "Since you have the keys to the castle now, would you mind calling my brother back for me, please?"

"Sure." She grinned and grabbed my phone. "Three-eight-five-three. Edward, right? . . . Edward . . . I don't see him in your contacts."

"Oh. Look under one zero seven."

I loved that she just did it, with a smile on her face, even. "107-year-old Virgin? That's your brother?"

"Not yet."

"Mean!"

I shrugged. "Got any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's awful," she said. "Nobody to steal my toys or compete for my parents' affection."

"Then how will you ever know if you would've won?"

"Are you kid—"

Click. "Please tell me something good, bro."

I shot Bella a wink. She gave me the finger.

"We're a go, Eddie. Jessica won't be giving you a hard time. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she comes outside with a pitcher of lemonade and a batch of fresh-baked cookies for everyone. I'll be there at 9:30. Later."

"Don't call me Ed—"

Click.

"Mind if I look through your photos?" Bella asked, already doing exactly that.

"Hope you don't mind a dick pic or two . . ."

"Eww! Really?" She stopped long enough to see me crack up.

"No, not really. What kind of a jackass do you think I am?"

Her one raised eyebrow answered the question—and not in a flattering way.

I shrugged. "Knock yourself out." I pretended to be unconcerned as she swiped through my life one photo at a time. An occasional giggle or "aww" filled me with confidence. Whatever she was looking at seemed to be revealing a side of me that didn't freak her out.

We'd finally reached the highway entrance, and traffic eased up enough to get us all the way up to a speedy thirty miles per hour.

"So what are you looking for, anyway?"

"Oh, you know, incriminating evidence," she answered, ever the lawyer. "Wives. Kids. The usual."

"I'm pretty sure the only wife you'll find is my mom. And I haven't spawned any little Emmas or Emmett juniors, so . . . you're probably gonna get pretty bored over there."

She grinned but she didn't look up, and she didn't slow down. Not for a second. "Nice try."

I turned the radio up and tried not to think about my swamp ass situation . . . or the tension behind my fly. She didn't complain about the sports radio. The tick marks were piling up in the "pro" column.

"Who's Rosalie?"

"What?" Shit. "What are you into over there? Are you reading my texts now?" Wow, this girl's lack of boundaries could rival Duke's—at least where my shit was concerned. I wondered if she'd be so free with the contents of her own life.

"Just checking out my competition." Well, now. I recognized a move when I heard one.

"Competition for what?" Ball's in your court, baby. You want me? Say it out loud.

And she did.

"You." Wow. Okay. Maybe shyness went the same way as sanity somewhere during the grueling years of law school. Bella certainly didn't seem burdened by either.

I had a decision to make: lay my cards on the table, or play the usual games. Thing was, Bella wasn't like any of the "usual" girls I'd dated.

"Rose isn't your competition," I said, not really answering her unasked question. Served her right.

Bella regrouped. I was starting to notice she was really good at that. "Then who is?"

"I'm not see—"

"Hey, never m—"

We both stopped talking and chuckled.

Bella pulled her lip behind her teeth again, like maybe she needed to give herself that physical reminder to slow down. She coaxed my words out with a gentle nod.

"I was just saying I'm not seeing anyone right now." She didn't fill the silence while I gathered my thoughts, and I was grateful for that. "I find you extremely confusing"—she scoffed—"annnd incredibly interesting"—she smiled—"and attractive, obviously"—she rolled her eyes—"and I would really like to get to know you better."

She scooted closer to me and placed her hand on my thigh. "I cannot believe you just gave me carte blanche to go through your phone."

I shook my head. "Me neither." She'd more taken than been given, but I wasn't about to mince words with a professional. The fact remained—I was oddly unconcerned about her wading through my secrets, such as they were. In fact, it felt surprisingly liberating.

"And I also can't believe you blew off your big important job to help a total stranger. I can't believe you gave me the shirt off your back without even knowing my name. I can't believe you're driving out of your way in rush hour traffic, especially since you're soaking wet and you have goosebumps all over your body."

"Now that you mention it, I am a bit chilly."

She took the hint, scooted closer, and placed her warm hand on my belly and started to rub. If she noticed that only made the goosebumps worse, it certainly didn't slow her down.

"Better?" she asked.

"Hell yeah. A few more rubs, and I think the genie's gonna pop out."

She froze mid-rub, her mouth forming an astonished little o. Without turning her head, she shifted her gaze to my crotch.

"Oh. My. God. I didn't mean . . ." But clearly it was. Heat spread across my face like wildfire. There was no escape, not even a shirt to pull over my head. "Aladdin! The lamp! The big, blue genie! Wishes!"

C'mon! Cut a guy some slack here!

"Wishes, huh?" She tipped her head to study the witness.

"Yes! What would you wish for? C'mon, three wishes."

She still hadn't quite worked out if she believed me. "Nice redirect there."

"For your first wish . . .?"

"My first wish," she repeated, setting her hand free again on my belly, up my chest. "I guess I would wish myself out of this job."

"What do you mean? I thought you wanted this."

"I want to do the job because there's a dire need for it, but if I had an all-powerful genie, these families would never have been separated in the first place."

"Ah, I gotcha." I gave her truth some space and time while the wipers slapped the rain left and right. "Wish number two?"

Her face turned serious for a quick second, then softened into a smile. "I guess I should wish my car wasn't stuck at the side of a road a hundred miles from home."

"But you don't?"

She snuggled closer to me. "Uh-uh." Her touch lightened, feathered brushes across my skin. "Though I seriously doubt my father would approve."

"Of me?"

"Not you, personally, just the whole idea of abandoning my car to get into a truck with a strange man."

"I'm not really that strange," I pointed out. We might have been lying on a blanket on a beach somewhere in the tropics, not a care in the world, batting flirtations back and forth. Flirting. Considering the very odd circumstances, our conversation felt incredibly easy.

"Doesn't matter. Dad's a cop. There are rules to live by, right and wrong."

"Ahh! I think I'm starting to understand how you ended up practicing law."

"Think you've got me all figured out, do you?" She was grinning.

"Just about," I answered, also grinning. "Your poor dad must've had a lot of sleepless nights over his wildcat of a daughter."

"Eh, not till I started driving."

"Is Mr. Swan the one who taught you those fancy driving moves, maybe took you on a few hot pursuits in his squad car so you could practice your doughnuts?"

"That's 'Chief Swan' to you, and no, it was Mom who taught me all the good stuff. Dad's all about defensive driving. He's never been much of a fan of my technique."

"No comment." Technically, rolling my eyes wasn't commenting, but she pinched me anyway. "Ow! Careful! I'm trying to stay in my lane here . . . hint, hint."

Bella scoffed. "What about you?"

"Me? I took driver's ed in high school."

"I meant, what kind of people birthed you?"

"Birthed? Hmm, let's see. Mom's a teacher, and Dad was actually the one who delivered me."

"Oh, is he a taxi driver?"

"HA! No! Good guess, though. He's an OB-GYN. But your version might be more fun."

"A teacher and a doctor. So how'd you wind up in the irrigation business?"

"Well, for starters, I get to be my own boss. I make my own schedule, hire my own crew, set my own rates. And I get to work outdoors, which, except for when it's pouring, is not a bad way to spend the workday."

"Agreed. What about winter, plowing all night long?"

I glanced over to catch her teasing grin. "You know you're just proving my point about the marketing slogans. Memorable, right?"

"Oh, definitely."

"So, the truth is, I love the plowing, too, especially when the whole world's asleep, and it's just me and Duke and the other plows on the road, the white fluff coming down and nothing any of us can do about it but surrender to it. I love the quiet. I'll turn my radio off and just listen for the soft scrape of the blade against the asphalt. It's like my own personal Zen garden. I find it really peaceful."

At some point during my little speech, I'd slipped into a daydream. With anyone else, I might have been embarrassed to have gone all shmoopy about snowplowing, of all things, but not with the way Bella was looking at me as if I'd just performed open-heart surgery.

"You're kind of a deep guy."

"Surprised?" I asked, not really sure I wanted to hear her tell me she thought I was a simpleton.

"Not surprised," she said, "as much as intrigued." She sighed and relaxed into my side. Her cheek came to rest on my arm. Fuck if her soft skin wasn't the best thing my bicep had felt in months.

"You distracted me," I said, attempting to sound bothered when her distractions were anything but bothersome. "We were talking about your three wishes. I believe you have one left?"

Her lips curled into a smile against my arm. "Can I take a raincheck?"

"You never know when it might rain," I joked.

"What about you?" Her thumb swept over my nipple, tightened to a knot under her caresses. "What do you wish for?"

"Hmm, well, let's see . . ." This. You. Now. "I actually wouldn't mind a pair of dry boxers right now."

Her laughter fanned out across my chest. "Well, that's one mystery solved."

I joined her, laughing from my belly as I hadn't in ages, at least not with someone I wanted to have sex with.

"Wish number two?" I wasn't the least bit surprised Bella stayed focused so much better than I did. This lady was not one to leave meat on the bone.

"I wish we weren't almost at the harbor."

"We are?" Good. She seemed as bummed as I was that this ride was almost over.

"Yep, this is our exit."

"Quick! Tell me your third wish," she said.

"You already know it. Technically, it was my first wish." I dropped my right hand from the steering wheel and slipped my fingers under the hem of the shirt she was wearing so well. I didn't mess around, went straight for the belly ring. It wasn't easy keeping my eyes on the road, but a deal was a deal. We both gasped when I found it. "Fuck," I whispered, "I knew it."

I slid my thumb and forefinger over the smooth metal, picturing the delicate gold hoop and the smooth, soft skin beneath it. A sigh escaped from deep inside me, a breath of the genie, maybe, finding his way to the surface. Or maybe it was just me being happy down to my bones. "Ahhh."

"What's that for?" she asked.

"I'm extremely pleased with myself for making such a smart wish."

She nuzzled her warm face into my neck and hummed. Her hand swept upward, leaving a trail of tingles up my neck. The goosebumps got a whole lot worse, but damn, she felt good everywhere, even the places she wasn't directly touching.

And then she started to shake, tiny ripples at first, then bigger waves. She pulled away, and I saw that she was laughing. "Life is strange, isn't it?"

"Well, this has certainly been an unusual day," I agreed.

"If you'd have told me an hour ago that I'd be totally falling for some hot guy in a pick-up truck, wearing his shirt on the way to interview for my dream job because I ruined my own shirt, spinning out on the side of the road . . . I'm not sure I would have believed any of it."

"You think I'm hot?"

"That's the part you picked up on?"

"Oh, I got it all, but that was my favorite part." She pinched me again. "Ouch! Cut that out!"

"I take back what I said earlier about your charm." She grasped my wrist and removed my hand from under her shirt.

"Oh no! Are we having our first fight?"

"Have you not been paying attention at all? This is at least our eighth fight already!"

"Hmm. Will you let me know when it's time for make-up sex?" I winked.

She gave me the finger.

"So . . . totally falling, huh?"

Her head snapped up. Yeah, baby, I heard that. She turned toward Duke. I cupped her chin and turned her back toward me.

"I'm falling for you, too, and you are ridiculously hot, especially when you're pouting. Better?"

"Much." She surrendered to the smile she'd been fighting.

God, I wanted to plant a kiss on those pretty lips.

"Do you have any idea where Jasper will tow my car?"

"Yes. Nowhere! I'm going back for it as soon as I show my face at the Stanleys."

"What? You can't. You have a job to take care of!"

"Bella, Jasper is my bookkeeper. Trust me, you don't want him towing your car." I laughed at the visual, then laughed again when I imagined telling Jasper what Bella had thought.

Bella stretched for my phone, which had fallen to the floor again during all the flirting and mutual belly-rubbing. She tapped in my password as if she'd been doing it her whole life. My phone screen sprang to life under her touch, not that I blamed it one tiny bit. Hadn't I done the same?

"Uh, I'm afraid to ask, but what are you doing?"

"Adding myself to your contacts so you'll know it's me when I call to find out where you left my car."

"Good thinking."

"Want me to erase this Alice person while I'm in here?" She cocked an eyebrow and observed my response like a chemist mixing explosives.

"Please don't! She does my payroll."

Bella pressed, as I'd noticed she tended to do. "Is that all?"

"Actually, no. She also does my bookkeeper—at least, I hope she does. She and Jas have been married three years."

"Okay, Alice stays," Bella said with a chuckle.

She scrolled some more; I concentrated on navigating the clogged, one-way streets of the city. My lack of concern seemed to have cut her digging short. As I turned onto Congress, she held out my phone so I could see her handiwork. Wonder Woman, she'd named herself. Perfect.

"I assume I'll be Steve Trevor on yours?"

"Of course." Her phone rang inside her purse and echoed on my truck speakers until she dug it out again.

I watched her enter my alias as promised. "You're not gonna forget my real name, are you?"

"How could I? It's written on my heart."

"Aww, that's sweet."

"No," she said, "literally." She plucked at my T-shirt just above her left nipple. Duh. "And I guess you'll be needing my car key?"

"Yes, that'll come in handy," I said, kicking myself for almost forgetting. That would've been embarrassing, not to mention damn inconvenient.

She handed me the key, and I tucked it into my pocket. My name was on her heart, and her key was next to my dick. Poetry.

"So, I was thinking . . . On our second date"—I glanced over to see if Bella would correct me, but all she did was smile—"I thought it would be fun to go through your phone and play twenty questions."

She scoffed. "I don't know if you'll be able to dig up twenty questions, but sure. I'm down for that."

Considering I already had a hundred questions ready to go, I wasn't too worried, but more importantly, neither was Bella. I took that as a very good sign.

"Sadly, we have arrived at your destination," I said, pulling to a stop in front of Tower Three. "Say goodbye to the nice lady, Duke."

Duke's head swiveled around, and Bella scratched behind his ears. "Thank you for sharing your truck and your human with me, Duke."

He melted into her touch. Now I was jealous of my phone and my dog.

"Just so you know, he could sit there for hours while you do that, so don't count on Duke to break it off."

Bella chuckled and gave him one final scritch before turning my way again. "I guess I'm getting out on your side?"

"Oh . . . right. Hand me your umbrella?"

I felt a bit foolish, standing shirtless in the sea of suits, but being with Bella made up for it, especially when she joined me under the small umbrella. The rain pitter-pattered on the cheery red material, sealing us inside our little bubble.

"Hey, look! It's raining," she said, then grinned. "I'd like to cash in that raincheck now."

I would have granted her a thousand wishes. In fact, I couldn't wait to get started. "Your wish is my command."

"I wish for a kiss, please."

A kiss. Damn, son! If only I could read her mind right now . . . There were just so many kisses to choose from. Technically, this would be our first kiss. If you screw this up, it will be your last kiss, too! It was also goodbye, nice to meet you, see you later . . . and they were all such different kisses! What to do, what to do . . .

She waited and watched, that little smirk fixed on her face as I chewed on her latest challenge. Less is more, I decided. She'd already agreed to a "second" date; no need to be greedy about this.

"A kiss for luck," I said, leaning in to brush my lips to her cheek.

She grasped my cheeks as I started to pull away. "I should have been more specific," she said, holding me close. "What I meant was, I wish for a kiss that will take my breath away."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. It was a test, and clearly, I'd passed. Now all I had to do was take her breath away.

I pressed my mouth to hers, gently at first. Those pretty lips tasted even better than I'd imagined—soft and strong at the same time, a contradiction that suited her perfectly. Our tongues slid together, spilling more of our secrets.

I wrapped my free hand around her back and drew her into my body, savoring the delicious contact I'd been craving since I met her. Bella let out a whimper that covered me in fresh goosebumps. We were two live wires dancing in a rainstorm, together creating this separate life form, this spectacular kiss that exploded into a million shards of pleasure blasted to every inch of my body like confetti tossed into a fan.

The faint sound of clapping blossomed into full-blown applause, and I opened my eyes to a crowd gathering all around us. Bella's lips curled into a smile against mine, and we pulled back, breathless. Mission accomplished. Far from being embarrassed, Bella waved to the crowd. We posed for pictures, even kissed again on demand.

"Too bad your shirt's inside-out," she whispered into my ear. "Think of all the free publicity you could be getting when this picture goes viral."

"Well, hopefully you can negotiate a bigger salary with your newfound fame."

"Good point. I should go." She patted my chest and sighed. "Thank you for saving my ass today."

"Hey, every superhero needs a sidekick. Go get 'em, Wonder Woman," I said, handing over the umbrella. "Call me when you're done?"

"You're at the top of my list"—she hitched her purse onto her shoulder, juggled the umbrella, and placed her hand over her heart—"Emmett." She made a movie-worthy exit into the giant revolving doors, while I hopped back into my truck.

"Marmaduke, my man, it's just the two of us now." He stretched his front paws along the seat as if he'd been waiting for permission and flopped his belly down onto the warmth of Bella's lingering body heat. "Mind lifting your bony ass for a second?"

I reached across his back and grabbed the edge of the material under his hind legs. Duke half-lifted his haunches as I tugged the black cotton free. I shook out the T-shirt and yanked it over my head. It smelled like ass—Duke's ass. Perfect for repelling a certain cougar.

"All right, Dukie. Time to go see a lady about a job and a guy about a flat tire, and then we can come back here and play superhero some more. Sound good?"

Duke woofed. I reached down and scratched his ears.

On the radio, a caller was complaining about the four-and-a-half-hour game.

The wipers pulsed left, right . . . left, right . . .

Just another rainy weekday in Beantown, except nothing would ever be the same again.

Author's Note: Tsunami-sized puddles of gratitude to Jeannie Boom and Consuelo Hernandez for all their hard work activating so many talented authors (over 100!), banner artists, beta readers, and fanfic fanatics to support a cause near and dear to my heart- human decency in the face of bigotry, xenophobia, and sheer turmoil from the highest office in the land. I'm so proud and honored to have been a part of this effort to raise over $13,000 (!) for advocacy organizations doing the hard work of protecting human rights specifically at our US borders.

Special shout-outs to Ladyeire Breville, for inspiration, plot-storming, and generally being an enthusiastic supporter of every idea of mine that ever turned into an actual story! (By the way, she wrote a great story of her own for this compilation... ) And to my editor extraordinaire, the amazing Chayasara, whose talented eye sees all, and whose heart could never be bound by any border. And to everyone who contributed in any way to this compilation, whether you gave your words, your art, your beta skills, or your hard-earned dollars, thank you, thank you, thank you. This is what our community does best.

XOXO
BOH