Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena) (18 page)

“Sorority and strip poker?” Harper said, picking up her glass of lemonade and sending Adam a reassuring smile over the rim. “I’d even go in to check it out.”

Adam returned that smile, only his had a touch of embarrassment to it, which added a touch of adorable to the sexy. “See, guys, just doing what anyone would do. My job,” he said, magically appearing at her side to fill up her lemonade.

He was good. Charming, smooth, and never missing a beat. Even when the guys were razzing him. That was how it had been ever since she’d taken her students home and walked back in the station. They’d been surrounded by a group of people, but the way he’d looked at her, tended to her every need, made it feel as if they were the only two people there.

“Maybe, but not even two seconds go by and panties come flying out the window,” McGuire added. He stood next to Adam at the counter, slicing vegetables for the salad. He set down a tomato to give the story his full attention. “Lace and silk and all kinds of catcalls erupted.”

“You weren’t even on the crew yet, freshman. In fact,
none
of you were even there,” the resident panty-whisperer said, sending Harper a wink as he stuffed cheese and homemade pesto into each piece of chicken. “Otherwise you’d know I only went in alone because I was the first to arrive, and it was a false alarm.”

“A false alarm?” Harper asked, leaning her elbows on the counter, her attention solely on Adam, doing her best to maintain eye contact, which was impossible since he was a pro at making her blush.

“False alarm or not,” Sam said, leaning in to look Harper in the eye, “Adam came out with lipstick on his cheek, digits in his pocket, and every single lady calling him their own personal hero. Said he saved their lives.”

Adam gave the room a mischievous smirk, easygoing and not fazed in the slightest. “Again, just doing my job. What can I say? Women love me.”

“Women?” Sam barked. “They were more like pinups from what I heard, wanting a taste of the legend.” He turned to Harper, and she began to realize why Adam never brought girls to the station. “That’s how he got the name Five-Alarm Casanova, because he can walk into a simple false alarm and walk out with five hot honeys on his arm.”

The barrage of innuendos and stories didn’t slow down, and Harper noticed that Adam took it in stride. But she began to see that he was somewhat bothered. By the fact that he was the center of attention or the subject in what had to be the biggest urban legend in SHFD history, she couldn’t tell.

“Don’t mind the girls,” Adam said, waving a hand as all the other guys jumped in to tell their story about him. Each one more fantastical than the last. “They love to eat, gossip, and tell tall tales. When they get in front of a pretty lady, they seem to forget their manners.”

“I grew up with most of them,” she said, ignoring the little thrill at him calling her a pretty lady. “I actually introduced Ryan to his wife and Luke to his girlfriend.” At the mention of the ladies of the SHFD a few of them straightened up.

“That must be it,” Adam said, “because I don’t remember talking girls and bro-talk when they had female guests at the house. They had on their best faces.”

Harper’s heart rolled over when she realized he was bothered by the stories. Not that they were telling stories, but that they were telling them in front of her, and didn’t that make him all the more irresistible. It also made this faux-mance seem all the more real.

She just wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—her or his crew.

“He’s right, Miss Owens,” McGuire said, extending a toned and drool-worthy arm her way. “Where are our manners? We always take pretty ladies on a tour of the station. We can start in the equipment room while Adam here tightens his apron.”

Adam frowned something fierce. “If anyone is playing tour guide it’s me.” He slid the casserole in the oven. “I’ll show you the engine bay.”

“But I already saw the engine bay,” Harper pointed out, but Adam already had her hand in his, a possessive move that seemed to surprise him more than it did the rest of the room. And that was saying a lot.

As the guys watched, Adam led her out of the kitchen and down a narrow hallway, ignoring the whistles and laughs behind them.

“I never took you for a hand-holding kind of boyfriend,” she said when they were away from prying ears.

“Me neither. Then again, I never imagined I’d have a girlfriend’s hand to hold. Especially at work.”

She slowed down. “Is this too weird? Me being here?”

“It should be, but it’s not.”

Lacing their fingers, he moved them down the hall until they reached the door to the engine bay, which was as pristine as the rest of the house, but they kept walking. Until they reached a little patio on the back side of the building.

It was isolated and incredibly romantic, with little twinkle lights hidden in the shrubs and dangling from the umbrella. Harper’s heels clicked on the cobblestone floor as a warm evening breeze blew past, bringing the scent of rosemary from the small chef’s garden, which sat in the back corner. Right below a window into the kitchen, where she could see the guys pass by.

So if he didn’t want privacy, then what?

“So pinups, huh?” she asked.

He slid her a sideways glance. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. Those guys can make a timid brush fire out to be a bold blaze.”

“So you aren’t the type to run into a building and singlehandedly save someone you’ve never met?”

“Urban legend.” Adam walked them over to a wrought iron table and pulled out a chair, but didn’t sit. He also didn’t let go of her hand. He just stared down at her with a cool, assessing gaze. “And legends always disappoint.”

“Ah, so this is the whole
the myth is better than the man
warning?”

Harper had heard it before, but this time it felt different. She’d seen the way Adam had interacted with his men, how he took the ribbing in stride since it worked to blow off steam and bond the rest of the crew. How incredibly sweet and patient he’d been with her students. “In this case, I think the man is better than the myth.”

His lips curled up slightly. “Why is that?”

“First off, regarding that whole Five-Alarm Casanova business, they’re actually talking about the monthly game at Pricilla Martin’s.”

Harper knew this gathering well since Clovis regularly attended. Harper had even gone a few times with Clovis. It was loud, wild, and high stakes—but panty tossing? She couldn’t see it.

The Pi Etas were a secret society of bakers and poker players in wine country, who loved to mix playing cards with swapping crust recipes. Sure, when things got too vanilla they’d spice it up by betting coupons or tricks of the pie trade. But strip poker? No way. It was an apron-required kind of event.

Unless, however, they’d invited the Masonic Lodge for a tasting. Then all bets were off.

His laugh, which lit up his entire face, said it was one and the same, which meant that it had been a more
pie enthusiasts
and less
pinup dolls
type experience.

“Why don’t you just tell the guys the truth?” she asked. “The rumors can’t be helping any with the promotion.” He shrugged and Harper had a niggling feeling, similar to the one she got right before Clovis dropped a bomb—like, she needed someone to post bail or hide a body. “There’s more to the story.”

“A whole lot more,” he admitted on a sigh. “The call turned out to be from Aunt Connie’s place, where I found Selma Roux sitting at the kitchen table disoriented. The curtains were charred and she had no idea how she’d gotten there, or why she was in nothing but flour and her bloomers, holding a burned blackberry pie and a fire extinguisher.”

“She snuck out of the assisted living facility to bake a pie?”

“No, this was right before she went in, and she didn’t know where the pie came from. My best guess is she made it at my aunt’s,” Adam said. “I guess she’d wandered off before, but she’d find herself in the garden or her front yard, never a few blocks over. In the middle of the night. She was a mess, broken up about the thought of leaving her house and all the memories. And when she learned that Connie had called the fire department she started crying.”

“Oh, poor Selma,” Harper said, remembering how difficult that transition had been for the older woman. She’d lost her husband a few years back, and with him, her memories. It was as if her pain and sadness disguised itself as forgetfulness, and the woman who used to remember every kid’s name and birthday in town could
barely remember how to get home. “So you made up a story so that you wouldn’t have to call Adult Protective Services?”

Adam shrugged. “I made her a deal—if she let me drive her home and promised to contact the assisted living facility the next day, my aunt would invite a few neighbors over. Selma agreed and the ladies showed up with pajamas, liquor, and an outpouring of compassion. Ended up staging what turned out to be the monthly Pi Eta strip poker party. With everyone in their skivvies, Selma didn’t seem so out of place when the crew arrived.”

“And you became Five-Alarm Casanova.”

“The guys razzed me some, and I think it cost me my first shot at lieutenant, but it didn’t matter. Selma was able to say goodbye to her home on her own terms. Not the department’s.”

“Saying goodbye on your own terms is important,” Harper said quietly.

There were so many people she’d wanted to say goodbye to growing up, but never got the chance. It was as if as certain as the sun would rise, her world would change. Never once had her mother thought that maybe Harper didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to say goodbye. Wasn’t ready to move on to the next chapter.

“You only get one shot. If you mess it up, you have to live with it forever,” he said with so much intensity that Harper didn’t think he was talking about Selma anymore either. She wanted to know more, but he asked, “What is the second reason?”

“What?”

“You said
first off
, meaning there was another reason you think the man was better than the myth. What’s the second?”

“Are you fishing for compliments, Mr. July?”

“Just the truth, sunshine.”

Adam stepped forward and slipped his hands around her waist, linking them low on her back, and she had a hard time thinking. Because performing normal brain activity when this close to a meltdown was impossible. Almost as impossible as it would be to settle on just two reasons why she liked him.

Over the past week she’d compiled a complete and comprehensive list, which was why she’d almost declined when he’d asked her to stay for dinner. But the chance to spend time with him when his guard was down like it was now was too tempting to pass up. Now, here she was, adding him to her collection of people she cared for.

“You’re sweet.”

He laughed. “I said the truth, not fluff. If I wanted an ego stroke, I’d go back in the kitchen.”

“You. Are. Sweet. Adam Baudouin,” she said, putting a finger to his lips when he went to argue. “I mean it, the way you care for others and look out for them is amazing.”

“I get paid to care for people. It’s part of the job description.”

“Nope, it’s more than that. You care so much it scares you.”

“Sunshine, that I’m caring is the last thing most people would say about me.”

“I’m not most people, and too bad for them that they don’t take the time to see that about you,” she said, and meant it.

Sadly, Harper had been one of those people until recently. Now that she knew better, she couldn’t believe she’d ever let herself be fooled by the cape of swagger.

“People respect you because you take the time to see them so clearly for who they are,” Harper said. “Even more amazing, you call it out and recognize that.” He’d seen in her things that she hadn’t been brave enough to see in herself. “You find a way to celebrate traits most people overlook, just like you did today with Tommy. That’s a special talent.”

“It’s called making friends.”

“It’s called making connections, and the ability to connect with others is an impressive quality. If Lowen doesn’t see that, then he is missing out.”

His arms tightened until she found herself pressed against his chest, looking up at his lips, which were hovering over hers. “Is it crazy that the only person I care about impressing right now is you?”

“No, you’ve been tricked by science,” she mumbled, because his mouth was hovering mere inches above hers. “True story.”

“Science, huh?”

She nodded. “Red shoes, direct eye contact, enough cleavage to make you question what I have on beneath. The perfect dress for a date with the boyfriend’s coworkers. All planned, and all trickery.”

“That is an amazing dress,” he said. “The way it hugs your body when you move, and how it keeps flashing me little glimpses of the blue lace you’ve got beneath.”

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

He grinned. “Oh, I noticed, sunshine. I’ve been noticing you all night, but it wasn’t the dress or the shoes or even the cleavage, although all that is quite inspiring. It was just you.”

“I tried hard to make it look real.” It was silly that she was so thrilled by his admission. “I was thinking sexy thoughts too.”

“Sexy thoughts like this?” His mouth teased her lips, nipping at each corner before slowly pulling her lower lip into his mouth, and that same unforgettable fire she felt the first night shot through her.

“Just like that, but—”

“But?”

“I thought we weren’t doing this.”

“Me too.” He shook his head. “I just can’t seem to remember why right now.”

“Because we both have a lot on the line. Because you don’t do complicated. And because you wanted to be friends.”

“Right.” His gaze locked on her mouth as he reached out and traced its seam with his thumb. “Problem is I don’t know what my other friends look like naked.”

This was a problem, one her nipples seemed to ignore because they popped their corks in welcome.

“I had on lace,” she whispered.

“I remember.”

“Do you also remember how we decided this”—she looked at his mouth, which was a breath away and descending with purpose—“would complicate things.”