by Marina Adair
As fast as humanly possible, because it was the strangest thing. As he stood there, holding her gaze, something inside of him shifted. Something massive and sharp that had his chest doing a whole one-two jab combo to his ribs. The one would be peeling those cutoffs right down her legs and having a lose-yourself moment that he’d been going on and on about.
Except he’d gotten his hands on her, tasted just how sweet she really was, and now he knew he’d get lost—only it wouldn’t be for a moment. He’d want more.
Yes, by more he meant sex, but he also meant talking and laughing and not feeling as though in the morning it would all fade away. And that was where the second jab came in.
“I want to leave before it gets too late.”
“It’s barely nine,” she said, challenge lighting those eyes. “And I need more than one pose.”
Yeah, well that would have to wait. Because what he wanted and what he wanted were not lining up. So before he did something stupid, like follow her back inside, he said, “Another night. I promise.”
“But it felt like a tonight thing to me,” she said so quietly he wanted to punch himself. “The chair, the kissing . . . it all felt . . .” She looked up at him and, God, it broke his heart. “Was I misreading something? Because it seemed like . . .”
“No. I mean, yes.” Jesus, his mind was all over the place. Opening up to her about his day had been expected. That’s what Harper did, she talked the truth right out of people. But the way he felt talking to her, as if she really heard him, that was as refreshing as it was terrifying. “I was giving you all the signals, Harper. Loud and clear.”
She looked down at his pants, and the tent he was sporting, and shook her head. “Then why are you running out of here?”
Adam let out a breath. “Because I only have a couple weeks.” Of her. They only had two weeks and then their time would be up and they’d most likely part ways. That was how it went for Adam—people came and people left, and life moved on. Not that Harper would move far, she’d still be in town, her smile appearing around every corner, but things between them would be different.
They wouldn’t be required to see each other. So what then?
Harper was open and genuine and the connection they shared felt, well . . . nice. Something that normally scared him off, but with her it was addicting. He didn’t want to lose out, lose her, when this was over. And he would if he took her in her grandma’s shop as if she were just another fleeting rush.
She deserved more.
The strange thing was, around her, he could almost convince himself that he did too. “I don’t want to screw this up,” he admitted.
“So it’s not me, it’s the situation?” she asked and, holy shit, she was serious.
Adam laughed because it was all about her, but not in the way she thought. He closed the distance, took her hand, and placed it on his pounding heart. “Feel that?”
She nodded.
“That’s all you. Not the lace or the setup in there. You,” he said. “And if this were a few weeks ago, I would have had you naked the second I saw you in those ass-hugging shorts,” he said softly. “Then I would have had you on that chair, the counter, wherever I could.”
“But you could’ve had me, just a minute ago.”
“Yeah?” he asked, embarrassed that he sounded like a seventeen-year-old on prom night.
She smiled, small but sweet. “You know you could have.”
He did, but hearing her say it made him smile. It also made him cautious.
In his line of work, the ability to quickly assess a hot spot was imperative. Smokejumpers operated on worst-case scenario and worked their way backward. From the time the chute deployed, there was approximately sixty seconds to identify the biggest threat, come up with a strategy, and locate an exit route—just in case. Because once you touched down behind the fire line there were no second chances. No do-overs.
No time for mistakes.
Even the most controlled fire could go from squirrelly to shit-just-got-real in no time flat. And this thing with Harper, it wasn’t just squirrelly, it was so damn combustible he was afraid someone was going to get burned. Based on his past, it wouldn’t be him.
“I want you, Harper, but I don’t want to complicate a good thing.”
“So you’re saying you want me, but you can’t have me because you want to be friends more?” she asked sourly. “Oh my God, I must be totally cursed.”
“You’re too sweet to be cursed, and I want both,” he clarified, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. Then because her lips were right there, pouting and sad, he kissed those too. Pulling back only after they were both breathing hard. “See you tomorrow.”
Only he didn’t move toward the door.
“To clarify, you’re saying that if I took off my bra, right now, it would be a waste of time, because this is not going to happen?” Her fingers played with the strap, driving him right out of his mind.
With a pained groan, he headed for the door. “Not tonight.”
“So then you aren’t going to kiss me tomorrow?”
He paused at the threshold and thought about that long and hard. Thought about what it would be like to wake up in the morning and kiss her until bedtime. Then thought about how she deserved extraordinary. “Nope.”
“It’s not nice to lie. It kills innocent unicorns,” she called out.
“It’s not a lie, it’s a fact. And I won’t see you tomorrow since I’ll be at the sheriff’s station finalizing the booth locations and handing out registration forms.” He opened the door. “But put on the Honeysuckle and I might reconsider. Night, sunshine.”
Adam remained true to his word.
The day was almost over and he had not kissed Harper. Not when he spotted her at the Sweet and Savory getting her morning sugar fix, nor when he saw her walking her grandma’s dog down Main Street. He hadn’t even called her over for a quick peck when she pulled two of her students outside to have a nice “chat.”
A chat with boys who were three feet tall, which, with Harper wearing ridiculously adorable heels, had her bending over to get eye level. An action that, from a distance, brought her hips to Adam’s level—and the hem of her flowy dress inches from exposing whether she was wearing Honeysuckle.
But since he was in the sheriff’s department, surrounded by his brothers and a bunch of pistol-toting guys, mapping out booth placement for Beat the Heat, he didn’t think he was in much danger of breaking his word.
“That’s never going to work.” Jonah reached over Adam’s shoulder to flick the quarter off the map and onto the floor. “It puts the second generator too close to the St. Paws booth. Shay won’t have it.”
“I’m not moving a generator to increase the odds of you getting laid,” Adam said.
Jonah shrugged. “Your call, but last year, Ida’s pet duck waddled too close and burned off its tail feathers, blowing the generator. This year, Shay’s bringing that flock of geese that got lost in the migration last year.”
“And we can’t move Shay?”
Jonah laughed. “She had to bribe last year’s planner to get a corner spot, so unless you are offering her street-facing property, no way will she give it up.”
“Could you at least ask her?”
“Do I look like I want to sleep on the couch?”
“You look like you should trade in that gun for your Deputy Pussycat hat,” Adam mumbled, then pulled another quarter out of his pocket and placed it by the stage.
“Too close to the coffee stand. The ladies will complain about having to talk over the noise,” Jonah said and flicked it off the map. “Plus, it blocks the walkway to the porta-potties, which is never a good call.”
“Where do you learn this shit?”
“Planning a wedding teaches important skills.”
“What? Like how to make a table decoration of out fishbowls and where bathrooms should go?” Adam pulled another quarter out and placed it by the oak tree.
“Don’t und
erestimate the power of event planning.” With a flick, Jonah sent it flying.
“Seriously, you knock one more quarter on the ground and you’ll understand the power of my fist,” Adam said, running a hand over his face.
He’d been at this for hours. Trying to map out a hundred vendor booths, a half dozen games, eating areas, and porta-potties in their small community park was harder than he’d originally thought. He had the basic layout from last year, but over the past week they’d grown their vendors by ten percent and added a food truck—which meant two more generators. The public bathrooms were closed for renovation, hence the porta-potties, and Harper had managed to convince some guy who owned a party games rental company to donate a few of the smaller casino games for the weekend—free of charge.
The woman was magic.
“Just because you’re not getting any doesn’t mean you get to hate on the rest of us,” Dax said from his desk a few feet away. He was flipping through a file, his boots kicked up on his desk. And he was grinning.
“Who says I’m not getting any?”
Jonah and Dax both burst out laughing. Flipping them the finger, Adam walked behind the counter to pick up the quarters.
“The way you were hobbling down Main Street was a pretty good indication,” Dax said, pushing farther back in his chair. “Your balls were so neglected they were singing the blues.”
Adam paused for a beat before setting “generator three” on the counter. “You might think spying is charming, since that’s how you managed to snag Emerson, but it’s not, man. It’s just creepy.”
“Call it what you want, but I’m not the one with the neglected nuts,” Dax said. “And I didn’t have to spy. My fiancée lives above the Boulder Holder. She’s also besties with your girlfriend.”
“More like sisters,” Adam mumbled, regretting the statement the moment it slipped out of his mouth, and Jonah and Dax exchanged a look.
And, yeah, Adam knew he sounded like an ass, but Harper sharing the details of last night with someone else, when he didn’t even understand what had happened, didn’t settle well.
To say he was thrown by how everything went down would be an understatement. The scene was set, the invitation extended and accepted. It was go time. And he’d gone home.
Alone.
Adam realized right then that it was a damn good call. From an early age, Harper had to create the family she was denied. Clovis stepped in for mother, the other biddies great-aunts. Emerson was her sister, and every guy she’d ever come across became a brother. Harper collected people to fill a need.
And Adam didn’t want to be another fucking brother figure in her life, just like he didn’t want to go home alone. But he sure as hell didn’t want to be one more disappointment.
He’d had plenty of practice at that, and she’d had enough of those.
“So you played the friend card, huh?” Dax asked, dropping his feet to the floor and coming to stand by the counter. He picked up the quarter and placed it by the back row of booths. Then he placed another by the other side of the stage.
Adam didn’t ask how he knew where the perfect spots were, since he was pretty sure it had something to do with a woman. Or a wedding. Or both.
“I didn’t friend-zone her.” Adam pulled out a stack of Post-it notes with carnival games written on them. “And even if I did, there is nothing wrong with being friends. Nothing.”
“Oh, it’s something, all right,” Dax said, laughing. “You have a sweet and pretty woman, who wants something casual I might add, and you put on the brakes so you can become friends first.”
Well, hell. When put like that, Adam was the one who needed to wear the Deputy Pussycat hat. “How much did she tell you?”
Dax shrugged. “Not much. She didn’t have to. Those walls are so thin, Emerson and I can hear Harper hold her breath when she watches those end of the world movies. So when you two started hollering in the store downstairs, it was like we were in the room with you. Emerson wanted to fillet you, but I made some popcorn and listened as you embarrassed yourself, then told her it was good news.”
“How is invading a private conversation good news?” Adam asked.
Dax shrugged. “Wanting to take it slow means you like her.”
“Everyone likes Harper. She smells like the beach and birthday cake.” She was also funny and genuine and one hell of a friend. He’d seen it in the way she treated others, and now that he’d been on the receiving end of that gift, he didn’t want to jinx it.
“Yeah, but you like her like her,” Dax said.
“How does any of that Harper told Emerson who told you BS equate to me liking her?”
Dax took the stack of Post-its out of Adam’s hands and, without asking, staggered them around the park, while Jonah stood there silently for a while. Tense. Assessing. Calling on every little trick of the trade he’d learned in that fancy detective school he’d attended.
It worked—sweat beaded on Adam’s forehead.
“Women have been chasing you since you were old enough to buy condoms,” Jonah began. “You always let them catch you. At least for a night or two. Then you somehow charm them into thinking that being friends was their idea.”
“‘No ties, no one cries,’” Adam repeated what had become his mantra over the years. Only, now when he said it, it felt odd. Like he was spouting off a lie.
“Yeah, I never really thought you believed that BS,” Jonah said. “Just like I don’t think you believe that all you want from Harper is friendship.”
“There is nothing wrong with being friends,” Adam argued, which only made his brothers smile bigger. The assholes. “We’re just having fun.”
Even saying it made him wince, because yes, Harper was different and with her he always had fun. But when he was around her he was different too. Lighter, happier, grounded.
Able to experience the rush of the jump without the impact of the landing that usually followed. But the landing would come if he wasn’t careful—with Adam and relationships it always did. This meant he needed to tread lightly, think before he jumped, because when he did jump, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be jumping alone.
Everything Harper did in life was in tandem, and he’d meant what he’d said last night. Life was too short to be ordinary. Which was why he lived balls-out, chasing the next high. This time though, if he had to deploy the chute, then he wanted to make sure that neither of them walked away burned.
Because with Harper, there wouldn’t be a reserve chute.
His brothers exchanged concerned looks. “Well, while you’re braiding each other’s hair or talking about favorite boy bands or whatever else girlfriends do while having fun, you might want to ask her advice on this map,” Dax said, picking up the Post-it for Dr. Harvey Peterson, the town’s podiatrist, and sticking it to Adam’s forehead. “I might not have been back for very long, but I know enough about this town to understand that stationing Handsy Harvey’s Complimentary Two-Minute Foot Massage station next to the Ladies’ Baptist Choir is an epically stupid decision.”
Adam had already met his quota of epically stupid decisions for this lifetime, plus he’d told himself he wasn’t going to kiss Harper today, which was why he was dead set on avoiding her. At least until he’d had twenty-four hours to clear his head—and get that image of her straddling him out of his mind. So when he received a text a few minutes later, asking him to pick up a shift, Adam decided that the map could wait.
“Gotta go to the station,” he said, gathering his things. “Daugherty’s wife isn’t feeling well, his kid’s got the flu, and he needs someone to fill in until his mother-in-law can get here from the city and play house nurse.”
And since Adam had no wife, no kid, and no good reason to ever turn down overtime, he had become the official go-to guy when it came to covering shifts. Normally it didn’t bug him, that was how it worked, but for some reason this time it caused a weird tension to build behind his shoulders.
“What about these?” Jonah hel
d up a stack of forms.
Shit. He was supposed to be at the station anyway to hand out forms to vendors and answer any questions. “Can you cover Beat the Heat duties for me until Seth gets here around three?” he asked Dax.
Rolling up the map, Adam headed for the door and decided it was a good thing, because going to the station meant not going to see Harper about logistical problems—or anything else, no matter how epic it might be.
“You bet, as long as you drop Violet off at class on the way,” Dax said, and before Adam could ask what class, a three-foot-tall girl in Converse and pigtails ran out from the lunchroom and climbed in Dax’s lap.
And Adam got a really bad feeling. Violet Blake, Emerson’s kid sister, was six years old, and could literally blind you with her sweetness. She was also a damn fine artist when it came to glitter.
“What class do you have today?” Adam asked.
“Sprouting Picasso,” Violet said, swinging her legs contently as though she hadn’t just complicated everything.
Not a big deal, he thought, assessing the possible outcomes. “I can walk you to the door and watch you go inside, but then I have to get to the station.”
Violet jumped off Dax’s lap, then ran over to wrap her little arms around his middle. “That’s where I’m going! On a field trip to the fire station to see real heroes in action for our project, like Miss H promised!” she squealed, confirming that, yeah, he was totally screwed.
I thought your hose would be bigger.”
Harper smothered a laugh as Tommy walked over to the deflated fire hose and nudged it with one of his shoes, which were “the Flash” themed, blinked red when he stepped, and hadn’t stopped moving since arriving at the station. Neither had Harper’s heart.
She had barely gotten two words out to her students about being on their best behavior—and not touching any red buttons—when their tour guide had emerged from the kitchen. It wasn’t Daugherty, the nearing-fifty father of seven who had a handlebar mustache and a keg in his belly.
Nope, their tour guide was over six feet of hard-won muscle and charm, wearing yesterday’s scruff, delicious SHFD work blues, and enough testosterone to melt the sun. And just as unexpected as Adam’s appearance was his date for the day.