by Tara Sivec
Otterly Scorched
Copyright © 2020 Tara Sivec
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Disclaimer
This is a work of adult fiction. The author does not endorse or condone any of the behavior enclosed within. The subject matter may not be appropriate for minors. All trademarks and copyrighted items mentioned are the property of their respective owners.
Edits by KD Robichaux
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Interior Design by Paul Salvette, BB eBooks
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Tattoo Photo Edits by Michelle Preast Illustration and Design
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Book
Dedication
Prologue
1. My Babies!
2. Dead Squirrel Beach
3. Why Does Crazy Have to be so Hot?
4. Are You on Drugs or Something?
5. You Aren’t Gonna Start Crying Again, Are You?
6. Hold My Beer
7. There’s Always Fucking Blood
8. I am Otterly Fucked
9. It’s a Fucking Frittata
10. You’re About to Get Lucky, Motherfucker
11. Take Off Your Pants
12. Why Are You Hugging a Tree?
13. No, I Don’t Want Your Goat Cheese
14. Did I Break Him?
15. Lather, Rinse, Repeat
16. I’m Still Game if You Are
17. Otterly Dating
18. Oh Look, A Squirrel!
19. Trash Panda
20. Bring It, Bitch
21. Significant Otter
22. Ferrets on Crack
23. Fat Back
24. Lucky Charm
Epilogue
Bonus One: McCallahan’s… That Night, All Those Years Ago
Bonus Two: Otterly Ridiculous Fucking
It’s been a lot of years and another lifetime since Dax Trevino was a playboy detective for the Franklin Police Department. He’s been through hell and back, and now he just wants to be left alone, so he can cuddle his otters.
When two of his babies are kidnapped in the middle of the night, and Claws and Effect Pet Detectives are called to the rescue, quiet, broody Dax never expects to be tackled and handcuffed by the only woman he ever regretted being a douchebag to all those years ago.
Harley Blake has spent her entire life taking care of her accident-prone father with a fondness for dead animals, and her forty-year-old brother who refuses to grow up. The last thing she needs is another complication in her life, and Detective Douchebag is at the top of the list.
Dax might not be a cop anymore, and he might have outgrown his one-and-done player status, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to get burned a second time and fall for his charms. The infuriating man already branded a mark on her heart years ago, making sure she’d never forget him. Besides, she has a case to solve for the guy, and this is just business.
But the sarcasm starts flying, there are a gaggle of adorable otters who need to be cuddled, a Bandit Von Trash Panda who just wants to play poker, pot brownies, and squirrels dressed for a wedding… at a funeral. Things are heating up—and not just from the small tree fire after the grenade went off—and this man is suddenly simplifying her life instead of making it worse.
Harley knows she won’t escape this time without being Otterly Scorched.
For MY Great Ass.
Thank you for saving my sanity during this book.
And for the fucking delicious salmon with beurre blanc sauce.
For Spawn.
Thank you for Dik-Dik.
PROLOGUE
Dax
Pre-otters, in an Ignite Trilogy far, far away…
“All right, I think that’s everything we need.”
Hitting Save on the file on my computer, I swivel around in my chair and look across my desk at my two good friends, DJ and Phina. They’re holding up pretty well, considering they were almost burned alive earlier tonight when some sick fuck who’s been stalking Phina decided to light an ambulance on fire. The same ambulance DJ and Phina were in the back of at the time.
As their friend, I want to give both of them a high-five for their creative use of a work vehicle to release some sexual tension. But as a police detective, and the one who took their statement, I have to try to be a little professional.
“You sure you guys don’t want to go to the hospital? Get checked out for smoke inhalation?”
DJ turns to look at Phina, and she shakes her head before quickly looking away from him. She’s probably thinking about all the shit that’s happened to her recently and how she’s screwing up DJ’s life by being with him. She has no idea just how much she’s saving him.
Christ. I sound like a goddamn romance novel. What is wrong with me?
The door to my office suddenly opens, and a hot, leggy brunette walks in with a cup of coffee in her hands. I smile at her, giving her the full-on Dax dimples, even though my palms start to sweat at just the sight of her. I know damn well Harley Blake is the reason I’ve been having… feelings and shit lately. A few hours together in a bar a month ago, before either one of us knew who the other was, and it’s turned me into a pussy.
“Harley, these are my friends, DJ and Phina,” I introduce, giving her a wink as she pauses next to Phina’s chair, still gingerly holding the handle of my steaming coffee mug so she doesn’t spill any of it, the sweetheart.
I could tell by the tight clench of her jaw as soon as she walked through the door that she was pissed I called out to my assistant and told her to have Detective Blake make my coffee. It was a ridiculously long coffee request that required her to personally grind the beans, perform a complicated milk steaming process, add three-and-a-half dashes of cinnamon, and a handful of other demands. Being a rookie detective, Harley is well aware of the fact that she can’t say no to anything I ask of her during her training period with the department. Rookies are the reason I never pick up my own dry cleaning, never have to wash my own vehicle, and never go out and get my own lunch. We’re not allowed to call it hazing, but it’s hazing. And it’s all in good fun.
The wink was probably unnecessary, but so are my goddamn sweaty hands.
“Nice to meet you.” Harley smiles at DJ and Phina. “I apologize in advance for my behavior.”
Before I can ask her what the hell she’s talking about, Harley walks right behind my desk and dumps the cup of hot coffee in my lap.
“Motherfucker!” I shout, jumping up from my chair so fast it goes flying backward and slams into the wall.
“Your coffee, sir,” Harley says in an overly sweet voice with a big, fake smile.
Okay, so making her steam the milk for my coffee five times was probably a bad call.
Even though my balls are melting, the sound of her calling me sir makes my dick start gasping for air and trying to resuscitate himself. Harley immediately turns on her heels an
d stalks toward the door with her head held high, like she didn’t just turn my genitals into lava.
“Oh, I really, really like you.” Phina, the traitor, laughs as Harley walks by her.
I hop around in place, fanning the soaked crotch of my black dress pants, hoping the movement creates enough cold wind that my liquefied penis will become solid again. Harley exits my office, slamming the door behind her so hard the walls rattle. DJ lets out a low whistle from his chair on the other side of my desk, while Phina shakes her head at me in disappointment.
“What did I tell you about banging the women you work with? She didn’t shoot off your balls, but she sure did a nice job with the third-degree burns.” Phina chuckles.
“I didn’t bang her,” I mutter in annoyance, grabbing a handful of napkins leftover from lunch off the top of my desk and gently patting at my crotch.
Last night, I may or may not have told half the guys who work here that she came on to me in that bar a month ago, and it got back to her this morning, but I don’t think I deserved blisters in places one should never have blisters.
Fine, so I’ve been a little annoyed she’s been giving me the cold shoulder for four weeks and pretending we didn’t share some kind of a fucking moment that night at McCallahan’s, before we even knew we worked together. And maybe I embellished the story a little bit after a few too many whiskeys last night with my co-workers. There was possibly a detailed story of her begging me to screw her in the bar bathroom that I “politely declined” that was complete bullshit. Whatever. I’m the one who should be pissed. She denied everything, even the fact that she came on to me. Who the hell denies trying to hook up with Dax Fucking Trevino?
Shit. I deserved this.
With a quick goodbye to my friends, leaving them in my office to show themselves out—after I tell them I’ll do everything in my power to stop this psycho who’s been stalking Phina; I’m not a completely selfish douchebag—I race into the hallway in search of Harley. I find her standing by the copy machine right outside of the break room. She’s got her arms crossed in front of her, one foot tapping in annoyance against the cheap linoleum, and she’s glaring at the copy machine like it personally offended her. This is how Harley looks 90 percent of the time at work, and it just pisses me off even more as I close the distance between us. I am not attracted to women with attitude problems, who think they’re always right, and pretend like I don’t exist.
Sadly, my dick doesn’t agree, even though the woman in question tried to turn him into a puddle of goo in my lap no less than five minutes ago. When Harley mutters a few curses under her breath, pulls her foot back, and kicks the copy machine, he perks right the fuck up.
“So, the copy machine is really the cause for your anger today, I see,” I casually muse as I lean my shoulder against the wall next to the copier and slide my hands into the front pockets of my dress pants. “And here I thought it was the half dash of cinnamon that threw you over the edge. It’s all in the flick of the wrist. That’s how you get a half da—”
“Jesus, do you just like the sound of your own voice or something?” Harley mutters in annoyance, snatching her copies from the tray before turning and walking away.
Jerking my hands out of my pockets, I push away from the wall and jog to catch up with her as she sorts the papers in her hands, moving quickly down the hall.
“Look, I’m sorry about running my mouth last night at McCallahan’s. I crossed the line and said some shit I shouldn’t have said. I’ll tell everyone the truth.”
Harley continues walking into an empty conference room without ever looking up at me. She tosses her papers onto the table and starts sorting through a box of files sitting on top while I stand in the doorway, waiting for her to speak.
She finally looks up from the files a few minutes later with a confused look on her face when she sees me still standing here. “Do you need something else?”
I need you to tell me why I want to throw everything off that table, toss you down on top of it, and kiss the hell out of you.
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d like to return the sentiment.” I shrug, acting like her nonchalance isn’t doing some serious shit to me right now.
I spend my days fighting women off. Sure, that’s a little bit of my ego talking, but it’s also the truth. I’m a good looking man. I take pride in my appearance, I go to the gym and eat healthy, I’ve got money to burn, and I know how to satisfy a woman. What the fuck am I doing, chasing one who looks at me like she wants to use me for target practice?
Which would not be fun for me. I’ve heard she’s a beast at the range.
“If you’re planning on reporting me to HR because of the coffee, then fine. I’m sorry I dumped hot coffee on you,” she deadpans, not in any way sorry at all.
It shouldn’t make me want to laugh, but it does.
“I wasn’t talking about an apology. I was talking about you telling everyone the truth as well, but thank you. I really felt that one deep in my soul,” I tell her, pressing my hand to my heart.
I watch the corner of her mouth twitch as she forces herself not to smile, and I keep going. This is the longest she’s acknowledged me in a month, and I just want to keep her talking.
“I’ve had people making fun of me since I walked in the door this morning, for hitting on ‘The Man Whore of Franklin County,’” she informs me with air quotes. “You’re just lucky I didn’t actually light your crotch on fire with a blow torch.”
“Well, you did hit on The Man Whore of Franklin County,” I remind her with a smirk. “And actually, as of last month, it’s The Man Whore of Franklin County and surrounding areas, plural. If we’re being technical.”
“You’re a pig.”
“And yet, you still hit on me first, sweetheart.” I smile.
With a huff of annoyance, Harley abandons the box of files and walks around the conference room table to stand in front of me in the doorway.
“Why is this so important to you? Go bother some other woman who isn’t afraid of getting an STD.”
I pay no attention to her barb and take a step closer to her. “Why have you been ignoring me for the last four weeks?”
“Um, because I didn’t want to get any douchebag on me,” she quickly fires back.
“You’re hilarious,” I tell her, unable to hold back my smile of amusement.
“That shit just doesn’t wash out,” she continues.
“Okay, I get it.”
“Stains like a motherfucker.”
“Are you done?”
Harley thinks about it for a minute and then shrugs. “I think so, yes.”
And this is why I’ve been acting like a pussy for a month. I’ve never been attracted to a woman who just calls me out like this, and it’s messing with my head. And it annoys the hell out of me that I hadn’t just imagined things. We did share something that night at McCallahan’s. Before we knew we worked together, before she knew I go through women like most people go through toilet paper, before she got the reputation here for being an ice princess with a problem with authority. She was just a beautiful woman who made me laugh, told me a few secrets of her own, and made me feel like I could talk to her about anything. We shared something, and she wants to pretend like it didn’t happen.
This is why I never spend more than one night with a woman. They’re too much fucking work.
“Well, I for one think it’s adorable you can’t admit you hit on me first. It just proves you still want me.”
Harley scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“I can understand the shock when you showed up for your first day here and realized we work together, but it’s been a month. The public needs to know about your animal magnetism to me.”
“I think the public really needs to know about the severe brain damage you’re currently suffering from,” she retorts, crossing her arms in annoyance in front of her and jutting her chin up in an adorably defiant way.
“Excuse me, Detective Blake?” We’
re momentarily interrupted when Micah, our evidence custodian, steps up next to us in the doorway, holding up a plastic evidence bag in his hand. “I’ve got that condom you asked for.”
The laugh is out of my mouth before I can stop it as Harley snatches the bag with a small foil wrapper in it out of Micah’s hand. I give her a knowing smile, and she growls, making Micah scurry away without another word like his ass is on fire.
“It’s for a case, dipshit,” Harley mutters, turning away from me to toss the evidence bag onto the table.
“Oh of course.” I nod seriously. “Because if you have Micah on speed dial to bring you prophylactics whenever you need them, I’m going to be really pissed I didn’t think of it first.” I chuckle at my own joke, letting out a humming sigh when Harley is still looking at me like she wants to punch me in the face.
“One of these days, Trevino….” She trails off with a shake of her head.
“One of these days… you’ll admit you want me?” I ask hopefully.
“One of these days, something is going to finally crack that douchebag mask you feel intent on wearing at all times, and then everyone will know what a little bitch you are.”
Considering I opened up to her in those few hours at McCallahan’s more than I have to anyone else in my entire life, that shit burns worse than the boiling hot coffee on my dick.
And it turns me on. This is conflicting.
Harley goes back around to the other side of the conference room table and gets back to work digging through the files. I move out of the room and leave her alone.
She’ll come to her senses soon enough. They always do. And besides, this is technically my last day being co-workers with her. I took a transfer to another department in the next county over as the lead detective on a high-profile case. We’ll still work together, since our departments help each other out all the time, but at least then Phina can get off my jock about sleeping with my co-workers.
I smile and chuckle to myself as I head back to my office, so I can get busy on DJ and Phina’s case, transfer the rest of my case load to the detective who will be taking my place here, and then finish packing up my desk.
