771. Chapter 771

Maggie thinks Alex is the most gorgeous woman she’s ever seen before she even takes off her helmet.

It’s something about the way she rides: fast and confident, but steady and controlled.

Because steady and controlled often means hesitant and uncertain, just learning or skilled but extremely cautious as a personality trait.

And fast and confident often means arrogant, cocky, self-involved and not caring who gets hurt, a sloppy need for speed and a selfish chasing of adrenaline at the expense of safety.

The combination is rare.

But this woman has the combination.

Her speed is immense, but her driving is controlled. Her handling is confident, steady, trusting herself to navigate the breakneck pace she’s set for herself.

It turns Maggie on beyond belief, because god, can she intuit so much about the woman in the black jacket, black jeans, and black helmet from just the wave she drives.

And when she comes to a stop, cool and collected as she swings off the side like she wasn’t just speeding to a crime scene like a bat out of hell, and she takes off her helmet and shakes out her hair, Maggie swears it all happens in slow motion, like one of those old movies or one of those sexist Superbowl commercials.

She swears, too, that she can hear theme music in the background, because there is no way any woman can be that beautiful and doesn’t travel with her own personal soundtrack.

Her hair is shorter than Maggie expected it to be, but her eyes are everything Maggie knew they would be and more.

Sharp and keen, aware and calm, stable while still being on fire.

“Danvers,” the woman comes up to her, hand extended, helmet still under one arm, apparently having assessed in the .2 seconds she’d had to look around the scene that Maggie was the one in charge. “FBI.”

Maggie had thought she’d left this kind of disaster lesbian stammering behind in college but nope. Nope. Apparently not.

She forgets which hand to shake with and almost extends her left. She switches to her right with an awkward chuckle that she hasn’t made in years. “Detective Maggie Sawyer,” she chokes, and when did her throat go so dry? “NCPD Science Division.”

She’s surprised she remembers her own name, let alone rank and serial number.

The woman – Danvers, apparently, and Maggie wonders what kind of miraculous first name accompanies the last – smirks with her eyes, like she knows exactly what’s going through Maggie’s mind.

It’s flirty, though, not mocking, and Maggie thinks that maybe she hasn’t ruined any chance she has at not appearing to be a total disaster in front of this impossibly gorgeous woman.

“What have we got?” the woman asks, and Maggie nods. She can do this.

She can both successfully go through the scene with this woman and, maybe, invite her to drinks at the end of it all.

She can do this.

The sparkle in this Danvers woman’s eyes makes her believe it.