by Marina Adair
Tightening the band on her ponytail, which made her feel sporty and flirty, she said, “Fine, he kissed me.” Her friends exchanged knowing smirks, so she added, “But it was just a kiss. Nothing else happened.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Emerson asked.
It was a good question, and one Harper didn’t have an answer for. But then she caught a glimpse of number nineteen playing shortstop and she knew. Knees bent, ready to go, his game face dialed to destroy, Adam looked strong, capable, and ready to handle anything that came his way. And that, more than anything, got to her.
“Because it happened twice,” Harper admitted, leaving out the part that she wanted it to happen again. “And if I told you guys about the second kiss, then I’d have to tell you about the first one, which took place after I caught him in my grandma’s shop, and before I fired Baby.” She dropped her head to the counter with a thud. “I am such a hypocrite.”
“Because you got cozy with Adam in your grandma’s shop, then fired the coed for doing the same thing?” Emerson asked.
Harper groaned. “And worse, I liked it.” Harper took a minute to choke on that truth, while her friends did that whole glance-slyly-at-one-another thing again, which actually wasn’t sly at all. It was kind of annoying. “I was kissed by the Five-Alarm Casanova. And I liked it. Not that it is happening again.” She looked her friends in the eyes when she said it, as though having witnesses would create accountability and ensure it would never happen again.
“You sure?” Shay asked. “Because you said it wasn’t happening again, and then you checked the field for him.”
Harper realized she was not only scanning the field for him, but her eyes had zeroed in on his mighty-fine butt in two seconds flat. Like a moth to a flame.
“I’m sure.” She took one last look, then turned to her friends. “I asked him to model for the Boulder Holder, and he said he’d have to think about it. Not that I blame him—posing in underwear isn’t really in his best interest—but if he doesn’t do it, then I am so screwed.”
“It’s not like St. Helena is short on good-looking men,” Shay said.
Shay had a point. For such a small town, St. Helena seemed to have a surplus of man candy walking around. Between Shay’s Cuties with Booties blog, which was filled with hot men posing with animals in need, and her yearly calendar, Harper had shot most of the hotties in town. Only no matter how rugged or sexy the cuties of St. Helena were, none of them had the swagger Chantel was looking for. Except Adam.
Adam had a charisma about him, that something special that made it hard not to stare. In fact, the photo of Adam in SHFD turnout pants and suspenders, holding Large Marge the bulldog, had been the most talked about month in the calendar. Mr. July wasn’t just the calendar’s centerfold, he was also an instant hit. Then her grandma had uploaded it to her Pinterest board and it went viral, making Adam a bona fide Internet sex-lebrity.
Gaining him the exact kind of notoriety he was now trying to avoid. And creating the exact kind of buzz Chantel was looking for. God, this was a mess.
“I’ll ask a few other guys I’ve worked with in the past,” Harper said, “but Chantel is stuck on Adam. He’s my ticket in. So I can’t dump my not-boyfriend for another not-boyfriend and expect Chantel to give me another chance.”
“Chantel sounds like an idiot,” Emerson said. “You don’t need some guy to prove you are perfect for this.”
“Yeah, well, she has her heart set on him.”
Emerson lowered her voice, uncharacteristically soft. “I guess I just want to know where your heart is at?”
“Firmly locked in my chest.” Which was beating a little faster when she thought back to yesterday, how Adam had seemed more concerned with the welfare of her grandma’s shop than chiding her for complicating his life. “I promise.”
“As long as you’re sure, because I would hate to have to explain to Dax how I ran over his brother for being an ass. It would make for an uncomfortable wedding, and I’m already stressing about wearing heels.”
“You won’t have to kill Adam, I’ve got this.”
Shay didn’t look convinced that Harper was in control of anything, so Harper added, “A quick reminder that I was the one who told you Jonah was a good guy.” She turned to Emerson. “And I supported you when you were sniffing around Dax. Encouraging you to jump his bones and go for the golden O.”
“Which he delivered on, then walked out and broke my heart,” Emerson pointed out.
“Yes, but he came back.”
“Only because he was afraid I’d hunt him down and kill him.”
“He came back because he loved you,” Harper said, and even she could hear that her voice had a dreamy quality to it.
She was thrilled that her friends had found amazing men and were living amazing lives. She really was. In fact, she couldn’t think of two women who were more deserving. Most of the time, Harper believed she deserved that kind of happiness too. But sometimes, when life’s silver lining hid beneath the shadows, Harper wondered if she would ever find that kind of connection.
Love, passion, a family—she wanted it all. She just hoped she’d find someone who wanted those same things—with her.
“He did,” Emerson said, and a rare grin escaped. “And now I have a ring on my finger.”
“Well, I’m not looking for a ring, just someone to pose scantily for a catalog.”
The last time she’d been trapped in her small studio with only Adam and body oil, she hadn’t known what his kisses tasted like. This time she would know exactly what she’d be missing out on when they kept everything aboveboard and professional. Which they would.
If he said yes.
“Good, because you aren’t the kind of person who treads lightly, and Adam is smooth,” Emerson said. “He’s even figured out how to sweet-talk me from time to time, and I don’t do sweet.” Emerson sounded horrified at the admission. “You, on the other hand, are so sweet you make Disney movies look seedy. You collect people like others collect stamps, but don’t mistake Adam’s easygoing charm for more than it is, because he isn’t looking to be collected.”
He was too bright and shiny for Harper’s taste anyway.
“Strike!”
Swearing, Adam loosened up on the bat and stepped out of the batter’s box at the umpire’s call. It was the bottom of the ninth, two outs, and the bases were loaded. SHFD was tied with the sheriff’s department, which was why they’d called in Adam.
He was the closer—on and off the diamond. Something he needed to remember.
“Come on, man, it’s like you’re not even trying,” Jonah heckled from the mound.
A former homicide detective for the San Francisco Police Department, Jonah had traded in his big-city problems to become the keeper of Mayberry. He also liked to keep tabs on his younger brothers—and give them shit when necessary. Which was why he turned the bill of his hat around backward, so Adam could clearly make out his smug grin, when he shouted, “I mean, that was right up the middle.”
“A gnat was buzzing around my ear,” Adam said, shooting a look at Dax, who was also grinning smugly beneath his catcher’s mask. “Next time, I’ll just squash him.”
“Someone’s sensitive,” Dax said, throwing the ball to the mound, not the least bit intimidated by Adam’s threat. Not that he should be. Dax might be the baby boy of the family, but he had a good three inches and fifty pounds on both his brothers. And he knew it.
Adam kicked the dirt up, then stepped back in the box and choked up on the bat. Focusing on Jonah’s hand, he slowed his breathing until he felt his heart rate drop and his mind begin to settle—and all he saw was the ball.
Jonah pulled back and Adam watched as the ball slid off his finger, right up the center and—
“I mean, I would be too if a pretty girl wouldn’t return my calls,” Dax said, blowing Adam’s concentration.
“Strike two,” the umpire called.
Adam glared down at his brother, wondering
if he’d be expelled from the game for punching a member of the opposing team in the nuts.
“I’m just saying that new picture on Facebook is a pretty big sign that you struck out big-time on closing that deal.” Dax flipped his mask up and laughed. Adam clenched his jaw. “No way. You haven’t even seen it, have you?”
“Nope.” He’d been too busy trying to figure out why he’d gone in for the save yesterday.
Adam might be a firefighter by trade, but in his personal life he didn’t do the savior act. Never had. Being someone’s personal hero only led to complications and disappointment. And he’d delivered enough disappointment in his lifetime. Yet, when he’d normally pull back, with Harper he’d stayed. Gotten involved.
The shit of it was he’d do it all over again, if it meant saving her from another humiliating moment with Dr. Dumbass. Yup, Harper with her coat-of-many-colors fashion, bright smile, and big doe eyes got to him. Bad.
Then again, maybe he was the dumbass in question. Watching Harper flutter around the bleachers, greeting every person she came across like they were an old friend, he knew going any further with her would be an exercise in extreme stupidity. They were a train wreck in the making, yet he couldn’t seem to stay away.
Instead of focusing on what was important—cleaning up his reputation—he’d somehow missed Baby posting a new photo of her in his jacket. Which took his current situation from annoying to disastrous. When Roman found out, and he would, he’d blow off Adam’s left nut.
And if Lowen found out, he’d blow any hope Adam had for making lieutenant right out the fire station door.
“I’ve called Baby a dozen or more times,” he admitted. “I can’t get hold of her.”
“Man, that’s rough,” Dax said, shaking his head. “Wanting some kind of closure and only getting radio silence? Total dick move.”
“I don’t want closure, I just want my jacket back,” Adam clarified and, sure, at the first signs of complication or drama he simplified things by dumping plan A and moving on to plan B, and eventually plans C, D, and E when necessary. But he always made sure when it ended there were no hard feelings. So what if he’d avoided a few calls from time to time in his day? That didn’t make him a dick.
That made him smart. Although he didn’t feel so smart right then.
“Her generation texts,” Dax explained as if he were slow. “Did you try that?”
Adam’s face went slack. “Her generation? How old is she?”
Jesus, he really needed to get his jacket back and clarify that when she said she was a graduate she meant college and not high school.
“I don’t know, text her and find out,” Dax said. “Add one of those emojis to it. The one with the googly heart eyes. Girls love that shit.”
“She’s twenty-four,” Jonah said, coming off the mound. The second his feet hit the grass the “Final Jeopardy!” theme song came though the speakers—indicating that a powwow was taking place on the field. “Something you should have known before you slept with her. Now can we get back to the game?”
“I didn’t sleep with her,” Adam said, breathing a sigh of relief that Baby was in fact not jailbait.
“How about that event planner Megan?” Dax asked.
“I didn’t sleep with her either.”
“What about your girlfriend? You sleep with her?”
He didn’t have to ask who the specific her in question was—the stupid grin on his brother’s face said it all. “I’m not dating Harper. And no, we haven’t slept together.”
“Facebook says otherwise. On the dating,” Dax clarified. “Because it’s obvious by your pissy attitude you haven’t gotten laid in a while.”
Try more than a month. Between training and everyone thinking he was in a relationship, he was practically a virgin again.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I am helping her out with some stuff for her grandma’s shop. There was a misunderstanding, that’s it.”
Adam stopped, not comfortable with going any further. First, because when he was with Harper it felt like a whole lot more. It felt good. Mostly though, he kept silent because it wasn’t his place to explain to anyone what had transpired between Harper and the doctor. Or between Harper and Adam for that matter. “It’s complicated.”
“You don’t do complicated,” Dax pointed out, as if Adam weren’t well aware of this fact. “Especially with someone you’ll have to see around the family table.”
It was the main reason to steer clear—Harper was going to be around for the duration. Jonah’s marriage to Shay increased the potential for weirdness, but the moment Dax proposed to Emerson, the line was officially drawn. Crossing it would be more than complicated.
He was sure there were a million other reasons, but he was too busy imagining all the ways to get complicated with Harper to think of any.
“Oh man.” Dax gave a sad shake of the head and rested a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “You’re losing your touch, bro.”
“He’s losing something,” Jonah said dryly. “Otherwise he wouldn’t even consider telling his superiors that his proposed event planner, for a department-sponsored event, is a girl he tried to sleep with but didn’t quite close the deal. Now he wants to use department money to pay for the girl’s services. It doesn’t get more complicated than that.”
Adam cringed because when put that way he could see how it might be construed as a problem. But Megan was his ace in the hole. The meeting was tomorrow morning. And if he went in there without a plan, Lowen might just demote him to the FNG and he’d wind up answering to Seth and McGuire.
“Megan is my best bet at this point,” Adam admitted, wondering what the strange tightness was in his chest.
“Well, that is a bet I don’t think you should take, because the only outcome of mixing business with pleasure is getting fired,” Jonah said.
“What if I make it clear that there will be no pleasure?” God, he was totally losing his touch.
“As long as you’re using department funds to pay someone you’ve hooked up with, it’s a bad move.”
“Shit.” Jonah was right. Adam needed a new plan, and fast. He couldn’t walk in there with his New Year’s hookup on his arm, just like he couldn’t walk in there without some kind of plan to prove to Lowen that he had this thing handled. “I’m so screwed.”
“Just not in the right way, bro,” Dax said with a shit-eating grin. “All you have to do is find someone in town who knows how to plan a party who you haven’t slept with.”
“We going to play or stand around clucking like a bunch of girls?” McGuire yelled from third base.
“You ever see that movie Anaconda?” Adam hollered back, and McGuire zipped it. He had no qualms whatsoever referencing the python incident in front of a crowd to keep McGuire in line.
Adam rubbed some dirt on his hands and went back to the batter’s box. Finding someone he hadn’t slept with to plan the party shouldn’t be that hard. Especially with the current drought going on.
Then again, the budget was practically nonexistent, the schedule impossibly tight, and St. Helena was a small town.
The music stopped and the crowd stilled. Jonah returned to the mound while Adam and Dax returned to the batter’s box. Jonah chalked his hands, stared down Adam, wound up, and released the ball. Adam saw it speeding toward him—not toward the plate, but him. At an alarming rate. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t step back in time and the ball smacked him in the thigh, making a loud thud and no doubt leaving a mark.
“What the hell?” Adam asked.
“Whoops,” Jonah said, not pissy in the slightest for just costing his team the game.
“Whoops?” Adam threw the bat and stalked toward the mound, the tightening in his chest growing with every step. “No whoops. That was on purpose. You just threw the game.”
“Did I?” Jonah shrugged as McGuire made a big show of prancing over home plate and throwing his cap in the air as if this were the fucking World Series. “Guess you ne
eded the win more than we did.”
Harper had once read that the best way to eat an elephant was one bite at a time. And since there were too many elephants in her life to address, she decided her first bite of the day would be a cookie. Which was how she found herself at the Sweet and Savory—instead of at the fire station.
A girl needed a hearty breakfast before tackling her problems. She also needed a cute dress, something she’d justified as she’d slipped on a little strapless summery number she’d kept at the back of her closet, just waiting for that perfect event to wear it to, like say, facing a certain funny, gorgeous, sex-lebrity.
Checking her makeup in the bakery’s window, she touched up her lipstick, Sensual Seduction, then practiced eye contact. It was bold and direct and—
“Oh God.” Everything inside her stilled. Everything except her heart, which pounded as she took a closer look at herself—surprised at what she found looking back. Scared even.
The dress was silky and flirty and spoke of a woman who knew what she wanted. More importantly, a woman who went after what she wanted—and got it. Which was why it had sat at the back of the closet for so long. Once she took it out and wore it for the world, she’d never be able to put it in the back again.
The dress was designed to be noticed, and deep down Harper wanted to be noticed. But what if she put herself out there for the world to see, stepping directly into the glare of the spotlight, and was still overlooked?
Telling herself that it didn’t matter, that being recognized for who she was and how she cared for others was more important, Harper dug deep for confidence and pushed through the door. Immediately she felt her nerves settle as she was greeted by a warm blast of vanilla, fresh baked pastries, and home. The smell of baking cookies reminded her of summers with Clovis in the kitchen. Safe, cherished, loved.
Helping herself to a sample of peach scone, which sat on a tray held by a cardboard cutout of David Hasselhoff in board shorts—a leftover from before the renovation—she bypassed the usual suspects in breakfast pastries and went right for the cookies.