Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena) (8 page)

“You didn’t bring me one?” Dax asked, eyeballing the cups.

And
apparently his former Special Forces brother.

“You already traded in your gun and holster for an apron. There would be no coming back from this for you.”

“Says the man who carries his deflated hose around town,” Emerson said, and Dax smiled—as if Emerson giving him shit took away from Dax wearing an apron. “And you know what I get behind?”

“Driving customers away?” Adam said.

“Supporting my friends.” She rested her elbows on the counter and leaned in—so close Adam could see just how narrow her eyes were. “Not delivering them a shit sandwich on a lingerie-covered platter.”

“Ah man,” Adam said, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to watch his brilliant plan explode in front of his face. “It was just a kiss.”

“Yeah, well your kiss totally screwed with Harper’s week, which screwed with mine.”

“Really?” Adam asked, because Harper would have had to feel something a hell of a lot more than
Not interested
if the kiss screwed with her entire week. “Define screwed?”

“Easy. Pissing off the only caterer in town who would cater your party for pennies.” Emerson gripped the plastic partition above the window and jerked it down. “Enjoy the latte.”

“Mine is straight drip.”

Adam grabbed both cups seconds before they would have gone flying and crashing to the ground—like his career if he couldn’t get her to open the partition. “Come on, Em.” He tapped on the plastic. “I need you.”

The partition was flung back up and Emerson’s eyes glared out. “Yeah, and I needed Harper to help me prep for the big wine convention last weekend, but she couldn’t because she was too busy dealing with your mess.”

“I wouldn’t call it a mess.” He’d call it more of a one-taste-wasn’t-enough kind of situation, but certainly not a mess. They were both adults, both enjoyed the moment, both, apparently, were still thinking about it. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I rocked her world.”

Emerson furrowed her brow in confusion, then rolled her eyes and reached for the partition again.

“Wait.” Adam blocked her from slamming it. “Here’s the deal—I have to meet with Chief Lowen Friday, and if I don’t have you on board then I’m more than screwed.” He might find the occupational ceiling lowered permanently.

“Not my problem,” she said, but he could tell he was getting to her. Beneath that ballbuster exterior, his soon-to-be sister-in-law was a softie who couldn’t turn her back on someone in need.

And he needed her bad.

“What can I do to change your mind? You name it, I’ll do it.”

Emerson studied Adam for a long moment, and he smiled his most trustworthy smile, then popped that dimple just in case.

Unimpressed, she looked at Dax, who needed to hand over his man card immediately because he shrugged and cocked his head adoringly. That
I’m behind you one hundred percent, baby
shrug/head cock combo that suckers gave their women after they’d handed over their balls for eternity.

Adam threw up in his mouth a little.

“Are you really sorry?” she asked.

No, Hell no,
and
No fucking way
all would have been truthful responses, because kissing Harper had been the most exciting thing Adam had done in weeks. Months. And he’d just worked one of the worst fires of the season.

Knowing she was fixated on that kiss made it even better. But since none of those would win over Emerson, he said, “From the bottom of my heart.”

“Which isn’t saying much, but fine. You convince Harper that you’re sorry you almost screwed the barely legal coed stripper who stole your jacket and I will reconsider catering the event.”

“She was an NFL cheerleader not a stripper, and she’s a college graduate, which means she has to be at least twenty-two.” He hoped to God she was closer to twenty-eight, because he was closer to thirty-five than fraternity, and saying
twenty-two
out loud made him cringe. “And I didn’t give her my jacket. I forgot it at the shop, and she was neighborly enough to hold on to it for me.”

“She looked a whole lot more than neighborly on Facebook.”

“I took the photo down.”

“How noble of you.” She put her hand over her heart. “I’m sure it was right after you called Harper to apologize?”

“I did apologize to Harper.”

“Did you make it a good one?” she asked, and Adam had to think really hard about that. He’d been so distracted by talk of Honeysuckle and her in that red dress that he wasn’t sure. “You better have, because we both know that giving up on someone, even when they deserve it, totally screws with that whole
save the world
mantra Harper subscribes to.”

Ah, Jesus. He sighed, feeling like a grade-A douche bag. Because
he
was the someone in question.

“Yeah, she spent the entire weekend picking up the pieces, balancing her own job while filling in for the fired coed,” Emerson said.

“I didn’t know Baby wasn’t supposed to have guests in after closing,” Adam said, knowing it was a lame excuse. “But I should have.”

That he’d added to her stress by crashing her meeting with the rep made him a bastard. Wasn’t this exactly the kind of behavior Roman had warned him about? Acting without a care about the repercussions?

It also explained why Harper had been so hostile.

“Don’t sweat it, bro,” Dax said, smiling. “Harper helped Baby land her dream job down the street. Pole dancing or something.”

“Pole dancing?” Adam felt the panic rise up. He knew Baby had found a new job, he just didn’t know what it was. Sweat beaded his brow and his right eye twitched with disbelief. “Please tell me that isn’t some fancy wine-country talk for stripping.”

Could this get any worse?

“Lucky for you, pole dancing is the number one way to stay in shape for the ladies of St. Helena,” Emerson said. “The
senior
ladies. Baby teaches classes at a dance school down the street. Unlucky for you is you’re still out a chef.”

Knowing he needed to make this right, Adam stepped back. “If I make things right with Harper, can I tell Chief Lowen you are on board?”

“Only because I’m marrying your brother and I don’t want it to be weird at the wedding. And if I didn’t pull out the fire extinguisher when your career was going down in a ball of flames, it would make it weird,” she said. “But if Harper isn’t cool with it, then you are SOL.”

“Not a problem.” He knew exactly how to sweet-talk a woman. “Now how about one of your famous breakfast burritos to go?”

This time the partition shut and locked, almost drowning out the sound of Adam’s stomach growling. Thankful he still had his nuts intact, and that Emerson’s chilly personality hadn’t frozen them off, he made his way across Main Street toward Parties to Go-Go. He needed to talk to Harper, but first he had a party planner to secure.

Charm amped to full, he pushed through the doors and was hit by the scent of latex balloons, varnish, and lavender candles.

Megan stood on a step stool hanging brightly colored lanterns from the ceiling. She wore a crop top that crept higher with every lantern hung, painted-on jeans, and a yoga-sculpted ass that promised to clear his mind of all things sunshine.

The door closed behind him, the bells jingling in his wake. At this, Megan attached the last lantern and turned to face him, a welcoming smile on her face. Recognition lit her eyes and her smile grew—uncomfortably big.

“Adam,” she said, hopping down off the step stool and swaying her way toward him. “What are you doing here?”

“You said I should call.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “
Anytime
, I believe was your phrasing, but then I couldn’t have brought you this.” He held up her latte. “It’s from next door.”

“That is so sweet.” She leaned over to sniff the steam. And groaned in ecstasy. “Fifty Shades of Chocolate? My favorite.”

“I know,” he said, kicking that Baudouin grin up a few notches. “Which is why I made it a large.”

She didn’t say thank you, didn’t acknowledge that
anytime
worked in today’s agenda, didn’t reach for the cup—or him. Instead she sat poised behind the counter. And that weird vibe Emerson was giving off was in full effect here too.

“So what can I do for you?” Although there was genuine warmth to her voice, there wasn’t the usual heat-laced undertones he was used to with women.

“I’m looking to throw a party and am in need of a partner.”

“We already had our party,” she reminded him sweetly, and images of New Year’s popped into his mind.

“That was more of a pre-party,” he clarified. “But I was hoping you could help me with this.” He set both cups on the counter and held up the binder.

“Beat the Heat isn’t just a party, it’s
the
party of the summer,” she said, taking the binder.

Every page she flipped relieved some of the weight Adam had been carrying. He’d flipped through those same pages over a dozen times and was no closer to figuring out how to plan something of this magnitude than when Roman had drafted him. But Megan, flirty and sexy Megan, looked as if she understood everything and knew exactly what steps needed to be taken.

“Are you planning it?”

“Long story short, yeah,” he sighed. “And I need your help.”

“I helped plan Beat the Heat a few years back, when I was first getting started, and gained a lot of new clients from it.”

He rested his elbows on the counter, slid the latte a little closer. “Think of how much more you’ll gain planning it with me.”

He winked.

She looked at the cup as though it were common drip from the convenience store.

Adam tapped his cup to hers and gifted her with his best
Mr. July
grin—and waited.

It took longer than expected, but he knew the second he had her. Two cute pink spots appeared on her cheeks and she placed her hand around the cup, batting those long lashes his way. Then she—slid it back toward him?

“This is weird, right?” she said in a hushed tone. “The coffee, you here, wanting to plan this event with me?”

“I don’t think so,” Adam said, not sure if she was mad that he hadn’t taken her up on her
anytime
offer sooner. Or maybe something in the air was making women weird-sensitive. “It’s great exposure for you, and you would be helping me out big-time. That’s what friends do, right?”

She looked around the store, and even though it was empty she lowered her voice. “We’re more of
friends waiting for something to happen
.”

“Is that a problem?” When she looked as if, yeah, it was a big freaking problem, he changed tactics. “This is a real job offer, Megan. One that comes with a paycheck. Not a big one—it’s probably what you received last time—but a legit check.”

“I want to help you out. I do. But you know how people talk in this town.” She rolled her eyes, then went serious. Dead serious. “I mean, that new pole dancing teacher just wore your jacket to class and all the biddies at the studio were sending her the stink eye. Not that I ever would have shipped you two.”

“Shipped?” he asked, because obviously this was one of those Mars versus Venus moments—and he didn’t even want to think about that jacket.

“You know
ship
, short for relationships, couples to get behind,” she said, as if that clarified things. “At first, when I heard whispers about Hadam, I didn’t get it—”

“Hadam?”

“Your ship name,” Megan said, clearly unaware that Adam’s understanding of this conversation was out to sea. “I mean you two are so different. Like never happen in a million years with you being strictly a friends-with-benefits kind of guy. A total BBD,” Megan said, and it didn’t sound like a compliment.

“BBD?”

“Bigger better deal, always looking for the next thing.”

Wow, was that how people saw him? As a guy who was unable to focus on something long enough to see it through to the end? Because if that was the case, then he had a whole lot more to prove than being lieutenant quality.

“And she’s that all around awesome, super sweet, best friend who guys want to marry,” she said, and Adam choked at the last word. “So I, like everyone else by the way, thought there was no way it would work, but then I read on Facebook this morning about the whole ‘Hadam at hello’ and I have to admit”—she reached across the counter and patted his hand, as if he were her gay best friend—“I’m totally Team Hadam.”

“Who the hell is Hadam?”

“Harper”—she held up one hand, then the other—“and Adam.” Then she married her fingers together and smiled. “Hadam.”

Adam felt the floor shift.

“Me and, um—” His windpipe collapsed and choking didn’t even cover the sensation.

“Harper,” Megan said in awe, as if she were talking about unicorns, Mother Teresa, and her favorite sorority sisters all wrapped up in one sunny package. Then she patted his hand. Again. “She is the sweetest. When my brother-in-law walked out, Harper stopped charging my sister for her kids’ art classes until she was back on her feet. She also helped me land my first client when I started working here, and never asked for anything in return. She’s just . . .”

“Awesome?” Adam deadpanned.

“Totally. I can see why you’d fall for her. It doesn’t get BBD than Harper.”

Adam wanted to ask if Harper gave birth to Jesus as well. And what the hell? He hadn’t fallen, and that kiss—although surprisingly hot—didn’t constitute a ship name. Not in his world anyway. But Megan wasn’t done.

“And since you and I, um,
partied
a little . . .” She threw up air quotes around the word and grimaced.
Grimaced!
“Well, working together now would just be weird, you know?”

No, Adam didn’t know. Because women didn’t grimace when recalling their time with him. And nothing about his parties were ever little. Pre-party or not, he was a closer. A fact he wanted to point out, except Megan was already closing the binder.

“Good luck with Beat the Heat,” she said. “Oh, and you should get your jacket back. Harper’s too sweet to be the crazy jealous type, but people are talking and it’s a total douche move.”