Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena) (12 page)

There wasn’t much Adam couldn’t handle. From jumping out of planes to charging headfirst into some gnarly situations, he tackled problems balls-out and head-on. The bigger the risk, the bigger the rush, and the greater the thrill.

So then why did he feel as if he was about to pass out just looking at a book of party themes?

“How about this one?” Seth said, pointing to the page with black tablecloths, poker table paraphernalia, and fuzzy dice table decor.

“It’s a family-friendly picnic, not a bachelor party,” Adam said, wondering how, out of everyone he knew, he’d managed to get stuck with the FNG as his party planner.

Right, because the universe was bitch-slapping him for his past indiscretions. So when Seth mentioned he’d planned all the poker nights for his fraternity, Adam drafted him as the decorations committee. A decision he should have made before they’d ordered their second round of beer.

“If this is a picnic, then can’t we just buy some hotdogs, paper plates, and chips? I mean, everyone likes hotdogs and chips.”

“The handbook says we have to have games and craft tables and an overall theme. I don’t think
tailgate eats
counts as a theme.” Adam flipped to the next page, which had everything one would need to throw a clambake engagement party. And slammed it shut. “I’m screwed.”

He had less than an hour before his meeting with Lowen, was thirty minutes from town, and outside of securing a caterer, who wasn’t talking to him, he had accomplished jack shit on his massive to-do list.

“Maybe we should just go back to St. Helena and ask the cute girl at the party store to help us plan it,” Seth suggested, and Adam was tempted to give in.

Megan had approached him this morning, explained how Harper had cleared everything up, and said that she would be happy to help with Beat the Heat. Only, Adam had politely declined, then lied, telling her he had it all under control. Because (a) she wasn’t all that forthcoming on what
everything
meant, (b) Megan looked exactly like what Jonah had said—a bad decision—and (c) Adam was tired of making bad decisions.

If he wanted to prove worthy of the badge, then he needed to start acting like it. And that did not include spending the next two weeks flirting with a pretty party planner on company time. So he’d driven right past Parties to Go-Go, and all the way into Napa to the party store there, where he asked a lovely saleslady in her sixties for help. She’d directed him to the party themes book, and that’s when the panic had started.

He didn’t know a centerpiece from a sash, had not a clue as to what kind of kid-friendly activities to plan. Should they match the theme? Were water guns a bad choice?

As a kid, he’d never missed Beat the Heat, yet he couldn’t remember a single thing about it except when the firefighters pulled the engine out to the middle of Main Street and threw the ladder, then picked a lucky awestruck kid from the crowd to climb it.

One year, when Adam had just turned seven, he’d been that lucky kid. And it had rocked his little world. At the first rung he’d been hooked. Not much had changed—firefighting was his life, and his days were still spent hanging around the engine. Only instead of watching from the sidelines, he was the one who got to run the show and rock some kid’s world.

“How about a fireman theme?” he said, flipping to the back of the book to where the kid-themed parties were. “We can swear in little honorary firefighters, give them a plastic hat and sticker badge.”

“You mean like what we do with the school kids during their fieldtrips to the station?” Seth said.

“I see your point.” He was so screwed. “Okay, tailgate it is.”

Adam grabbed a cart full of red plates, cups, and matching paper napkins. If he couldn’t do fire hats, at least the color would be firefighter approved.

Seth and Adam loaded up the rig and headed back toward town. He hit Send on his Bluetooth and called his sister.

“I’m busy,” Frankie said in greeting.

“Then I’ll make it quick,” Adam said. “I’m heading up Beat the Heat and was hoping you and Nate would donate the wine this year.”

“Even if we weren’t sold out for the next decade, you couldn’t afford me.”

The stress of the day settled behind his eyes. He’d assumed as much. After his sister’s Red Steel was crowned Cork King a few years back, which was pretty much like the Oscars of wine, her label had become one of the most sought-after in wine country. Which meant he needed to contact another winery.

Not that his family didn’t own a bunch, it was just Adam had never really been a part of the family business. Hell, he didn’t even like wine—he was more of a beer kind of guy—so sniffing around for handouts always felt wrong.

“How about donating a bottle or two then for the raffle?” he asked. “And asking Grandpa to provide the wine for the event?”

Frankie was quiet for a long moment. “I’ll donate a case for the raffle and ask Nate if DeLuca Vineyards is interested, but it will cost you.”

“Jesus, Frankie. If you could pull that off, I’d do anything.”

And he meant it. Owing Frankie was like owing the mob—if you didn’t pay up, she’d come after you with a bat. But walking into the meeting with the caterer and wine locked down?

Totally worth it.

“Nate and I are going away for a few days and we need you to come and stay with the alpacas.”

“I meant anything but that,” Adam said, his nuts already turning in on themselves. “You know that Mittens hates other men in his space. And the little one always goes after my boys.”

“He’s just sniffing you out. It’s all normal male behavior one would find at a sporting event or bar,” Frankie said. “And that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Adam weighed his options, and they weren’t good. Impressing Lowen or pissing off Frankie. He blew out a breath. “Fine, just let me know when and I’ll check my work schedule.”

Adam hung up and prayed he’d find himself stuck with overtime.

Half an hour later, he pulled into the engine bay to find that either he was late or Chief Lowen was early. Adam glanced at his watch. “Shit. Lowen is early.”

“And he’s talking to that sexy sweater set chick,” Seth said.

Adam paused from grabbing the bag off the floorboard to peer through the windshield and nearly choked. Because Lowen was indeed talking to a sexy chick, but she wasn’t wearing a sweater set. At least not today.

Nope, everyone’s best friend, Harper, was holding court with his boss and crew, decked out in a flowy sundress that hugged her curves and flirted around her thighs. It was soft yellow with little white flowers and exactly zero straps, leaving her silky shoulders completely bare, and him begging the question of exactly what she had on beneath.

A question that fucking McGuire was probably also asking himself. He was using Harper’s trusting nature to peruse more than just the items in the big pink pastry box she held.

McGuire said something, Harper said something back and touched his arm, then laughed. Real and loud, throwing her head back in a way that tempted the elastic holding up her dress.

Jesus
. The guy was practically drooling all over her. And Chief Lowen was no better. The man seemed completely disarmed, smiling at Harper as if she were the most charming person on the planet. Which she was.

Harper had this way about her that was warm and welcoming and, as he was discovering, compelling. But when she smiled,
man oh man
, he couldn’t seem to stay away. Which only made him wonder why he had never noticed it before.

Sure, he’d noticed Harper around town. It was hard not to with her bright clothes and
everything is awesome
attitude. But somehow he’d overlooked just how sexy she was. Or maybe it was that she was finally letting her sexy show, and he was lucky enough to witness it.

Either way, he wasn’t about to let a prick like McGuire witness any more than he already had.

“McGuire, I need you to help Seth empty the engine,” Adam said, and all four sets of eyes were on him. “Hey, Cap. Chief.” His gaze met Harper’s, and that buzzing inside that was constantly set to
Go
shifted. It was still there, but if felt softer somehow. “Harper.”

“Hey, Adam,” she said, gifting him one of those bright smiles that made everyone’s day brighter. “I stopped by to drop these off.” She held up a box of cookies, but her hands shook slightly, telling him she was nervous.

And he knew why. She needed his answer on modeling for her grandma’s shop. An answer that, two seconds after he said he needed to think about it, he’d made up his mind about.

Posing shirtless in a calendar for charity was one thing, but posing in silk boxers and a man’s leisure robe would invite Hugh Hefner jokes. If word ever got out about the shoot, and it would, then his guys would call open season on him and the wisecracks would be never ending. That was saying nothing to how it might weigh in on Lowen’s morality meter.

Seeing her in that summer dress, looking like a breath of fresh air, didn’t help his resolve. In fact, it took his
No way in hell
to a solid
As long as you wear that dress
in two seconds flat.

“What is all of this?” McGuire asked, holding up the red plastic cups as he unloaded the engine. “Is this for our beer pong rematch next weekend?”

McGuire might not technically still be the FNG, but he sure as hell acted like it.

“They’re for Beat the Heat,” Seth defended.

“You bought drinking game glasses for a family event?” Chief Lowen asked.

Adam wanted to explain this in Cap’s office, with Emerson’s menu on display, but now Lowen was looking at him as if he’d better explain immediately or there wouldn’t be a meeting and come tomorrow he’d be on trash duty for the rest of his career.

“I went with a red theme, like a, uh . . .” He almost said
tailgate party
, then realized that was one step away from beer pong. “Like a picnic.”

“Beat the Heat
is
a picnic,” Lowen pointed out. “So the theme you picked, after a week of planning, is the event itself?”

When said that way it sounded as if he’d half-assed the project. And maybe he had. He’d spent the last week trying to figure out how to get someone else to do his job, rather than put in the sweat equity toward a promotion. And spent this morning realizing he was ill equipped in the party-planning department.

That unfamiliar tightness in his chest was back. Adam realized it was panic—a strange sensation to have for someone who feared nothing. But looking his superiors in the eye, knowing that he’d screwed the pooch yet again, Adam knew this failure would cost him.

He didn’t do failure, but somehow he’d managed to get himself pretty close.

A gentle hand came to rest on his lower back, and he immediately felt the heat.

“An old-fashioned picnic,” Harper said, her fingers subtly moving on his back in a way that was meant to soothe. And damn if it didn’t work. The tightness disappeared, only to reappear when he looked over at her and found that from his angle, he could see right down her dress. And cream-colored strapless lace was the answer of the hour. “The town would love it, and it would go perfectly with the menu Adam and Emerson hand selected. Cold lemonade and a selection of different sweet teas, red-and-white checkered tablecloths—”

“Ah, these are solid red,” McGuire said, and Adam shot him an
Are you fucking kidding me?
look.

To which McGuire lifted a
What did I do?
brow.

You were born. That is enough to screw with my day.

Are you PMSing or what?

Harper ignored all of this and said, “I can just see the mason jars hanging from the trees, filled with candles.” She reached out with her free hand and tapped the chief’s shoulder lightly, as if physically bringing him to her vision. “Battery operated, of course. This is in honor of fire safety after all.”

And just like that Lowen was there, in the picture she was painting, buying into red Solo cups and Adam’s ability to make this event memorable. She’d also managed to distract from the fact that Adam thought hotdogs and Solo cups were a brilliant idea, and make him look like a guy who had his shit together.

It’s her gift,
Adam thought with a smile, the ability to draw out the best in people, make them feel as if they belonged in her magical world. Everything about her was magical.

A scary thought because when she was no longer there, he was pretty sure the magic would fade to a strange emptiness.

Lowen looked at Adam and showed some teeth beneath his mustache. Adam wasn’t sure it was a smile, but he didn’t growl so Adam counted it as a win. “I like the direction, Baudouin. And I’m pleased you have come so far with the event.” He looked back at Harper. “The young lady was telling me earlier how inspiring you were in her art class this week.”

Adam looked at Harper and lifted a brow. “Inspiring?” Because the only inspiring thing he could remember was that kiss to show up Dr. Dildo, then their talk, then how he wanted to kiss her again.

Her ears turned pink and he smiled.

She did too, sweet with a little undertone of sass to let him know he was on the money.

“It was all the kids could talk about, seeing a real-life hero up close and personal,” Harper said. “They were so excited that I decided during the week of Beat the Heat, I would do a lesson on heroic portraits and hang them in the Budding Artists Gallery.”

“You should bring them by,” Lowen said. “Give them a tour of the station.”

Harper looked at Adam, her eyes filled with excitement and uncertainty. It was obvious she wanted to say yes, but didn’t want to put him in a weird position. Adam smiled. “I can have Daugherty set something up for you.”

“That would be amazing.” Amazing didn’t even begin to describe what happened next. Harper smiled, and man what a smile. It was bright, joyful, and contagious as hell, because every damn guy in the
room smiled back—including him. “Maybe we can even have you visit
the shop on the Saturday of the event and judge them, Chief Lowen.”