by Marina Adair
Adam strode in holding hands with a travel-sized cutie, dressed in pink, pink, and more pink, who looked up at him with total and complete awe in her eyes. Violet wasn’t the only one mesmerized. Adam had charmed every person in that room—parents included—with a single smile.
Everyone except Tommy, who had his hands in his pockets and his eyes firmly affixed to Adam’s awaiting the correct answer, like he had for the last ten thousand questions he’d already asked.
Adam hunched down a little, putting his hands on his knees and getting eye level with Tommy. Harper noticed he did that a lot, talked to the kids instead of at the kids. “We rolled it out so you guys could lift it and see what it feels like. Want to hold the nozzle, buddy?”
“I want to see it big, like how Red’s is on Cars.”
“When that hose is hooked up to water and cranked to full pressure, it gets so heavy it takes three of those guys just to control it,” Adam said, pointing to Sam Lopez, a firefighter who Harper had gone to high school with. Sam was good-looking, built like a tank, and lived to make people laugh.
He flexed his muscles and the kids oohed, beyond impressed.
All except, Tommy, who stuck his hand in the air, even though he was already standing. William made a sound that translated into Tommy being the most annoying person on the planet. The rest of the kids were not quite as vocal in their irritation, but Tommy got the point all the same. They wanted to get to the fun stuff, like sliding down the pole, climbing in the engines, checking out what kind of candy was in the vending machines—and he was prolonging their lesson.
Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets, and Harper could almost see the internal debate play out between pleasing his curiosity and pleasing his peers. For a kid who had an IQ of Shut the Front Door and a twenty-thousand-questions-a-second brain, it was a hard decision. So when he looked to Harper for help, she smiled softly and said, “Why don’t you take your seat and let Fireman Baudouin finish his demonstration? There will be time for questions at the end.”
Tommy’s shoulders sank even more and he started walking back to the group.
“That’s okay,” Adam said, sending Harper a wink that had her knees wobbling. “Questions mean he’s interested.” Adam looked at Tommy. “What’s your question?”
“Are you going to hook it up so we can see?”
Adam got down on one knee and held the nozzle for Tommy to look at. “There are a lot of components when it comes to working the hose, so we use it just when we’re fighting fires.”
His hand went up again and Adam, once again, entertained him. “If we start a fire, you’d have to put it out, and we could hook it up and turn on the water.”
William’s hand shot up, but he didn’t wait to be called on. “That would be awesome! Miss H said we have to visualize what we want to paint and the hose looks like a spaghetti noodle, so all I can visualize is spaghetti, and I’m not allowed to eat spaghetti.”
Adam didn’t even bat a lash at the ridiculous train of ideas. Instead he straightened and looked at the group, all twelve of them, who were looking back expectantly, their little bodies quivering with excitement as if waiting for him to light a blow torch, then crank the water to high and make their day as fantastical as a Disney movie.
“That is what our imaginations are for,” he said. “Real fires are dangerous. Even the smallest ones can get out of control quickly, which is why you should never play with fire. And if you see one, you go to safety and call . . .”
He put a hand to his ear and the kids all yelled, “Nine. One. One.”
“My dad starts fires on our property.” This was from Tommy, who was now pacing in front as if he had the floor. “And he holds his hose all by himself.”
“Your dad would have gotten permission from the city to burn things on the property. And his hose is probably your average garden-variety, easy to handle,” Adam said, then looked right at Harper and she felt a little fire start in her belly. “This hose here pushes water out at a force of eight hundred to two thousand kilopascal units a second. That’s fast enough to stop a bullet.”
“Like the Flash?”
Adam looked back at Tommy and that fire in Harper’s belly warmed its way clear to her chest. Because Adam put his hand on the boy’s slim shoulder and said, “Just like the Flash. Which makes you the perfect guy to help me.” Even though he was juggling a dozen kids with a dozen different expectations, Adam was aware enough to understand the moment for what it was. This was a chance to connect with a kid who had a hard time connecting with people. “Who wants to go inside the engine?”
Every arm went in the air with so much gusto that most of them had to be supported by the other hand.
“Well, you need one of these first.” Adam grabbed a stack of plastic fire hats off the back of the engine. “And to get one you have to come up and hold the hose, then tell the class something you learned today that you didn’t know before.”
“About fires and hoses?” Violet asked.
“About anything. It just has to be something you learned today that you think is cool.”
“Like if a cat gets stuck up in a tree you will come rescue him, but if there is a bad guy at the door I should call Mister Dax?”
“Something like that,” Adam grumbled. “Now I need an honorary fireman to demonstrate how to control the nozzle, so everyone can see what it looks like.” He made a big deal about studying each kid, up close and scratching his head, so that they giggled, then his eyes landed on Tommy. “You up for that, Flash?”
Tommy nodded, so hard his shoes blinked as if giving off Morse code for Holy smokes.
“Great, put your hand here.” Adam took his time, guiding Tommy’s hands, moving his feet to a stance, slowly instructing him how to hold the nozzle while his classmates looked on in awe. Then Adam did the one thing that could make Tommy cool—he pulled his own fire helmet from a closet and slid it on Tommy’s head. “Now who wants to come up here so Tommy can show you how to properly hold the hose?”
A cacophony of excited Me-mes filled the room, and Adam pointed to a red X taped to the ground. “A good firefighter knows that being a team player and knowing how to follow directions are important to everyone involved. So let’s start the line here. Girls first, then boys. And we go in order of youngest to oldest.”
“That’s lame,” William, the oldest boy in the class, said, folding his arms over his chest.
“That’s called being a good guy,” Adam said, not an ounce of waver in his voice. “And it’s up to the big guys like you, who are older and have more experience, to make sure the littler ones don’t get lost in the shuffle. Help them figure things out.”
William’s chest puffed, then he took to guiding the kids into the line, making sure the little ones were up front. Then Harper watched as, one by one, Tommy showed each kid what he’d learned, pointing out the different parts and talking about the fire safety points he’d learned along the way.
Harper was touched at how invested Adam was in the kids’ feelings. He quickly assessed their strengths and weaknesses, giving them all a job that would challenge them while allowing them to succeed. And when they all finished with their turns, he let Sam take them to the outer bay to see the big ladder engine.
“Really? Clay has an average garden-variety hose?” she asked, rising to her feet as he walked toward her. She dusted off the back of her dress and pretended that her hands weren’t shaking.
“Facts are facts,” he said, not stopping until he was so close she had to take a step back—right into a wall. “Is that a new dress?”
“No, I just never wear it.” Its slim-cut and belted waist had always felt like too much, but when she’d put it on this morning it had felt just right. “And the last time you said facts are facts, it was to convince me I wouldn’t be seeing you today.”
“I didn’t think you’d be wearing this dress when I agreed to fill in.” He planted his palms flat on the wall above her head. His eyes? Those were firmly on her mouth.
“And you should wear it more often. It goes well with Honeysuckle.” His lashes lifted. “You wearing Honeysuckle, sunshine?”
“Are you still just interested in being friends, Smoky?” she asked. “Because I have a lot of friends, and they aren’t privy to what I have on underneath.”
“They’re not your boyfriend,” he said playfully, but she wasn’t feeling playful at all. She was suddenly feeling confused and a little scared over how his words sent butterflies racing in her stomach.
“And you walked out of my place last night, so you can see why I want to clarify things.”
“I said a lot last night,” Adam said.
“You did.” There was also a lot that went unsaid, and that was what had the butterflies flapping their wings against her ribcage. “Like you weren’t going to kiss me today.”
He hesitated. “I thought I needed space, to clear my head.”
“And now?”
“The only time my head seems to be clear is when I’m with you. Like this.”
Still holding her caged between the wall and his mighty fine body, he stared down at her for what felt like an eternity, as if unsure about what he wanted to do. And while he was thinking about how he wanted to play this moment, Harper wondered just how long she could go without oxygen before passing out.
“Stay for dinner, Harper.”
She blinked. Twice in fact because a Let’s get naked later invitation or There’s a party in my pants, wanna come would have been less shocking. An invite to dinner was not what she was expecting. At all. And it confused her as much as it thrilled her. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“A date would be the two of us alone and, unfortunately, I’m still on the clock until Daugherty gets here, which means I come with seven other guys.” A little of the thrill faded. “But I’m cooking tonight and I would love for you to stay and have dinner. With me.”
Harper swallowed the hurt rising in her throat. “And seven other guys?”
“Who will all love you and give me a hard time for bringing a girl to dinner, which has never happened before. The girl thing, not them giving me a hard time,” he stumbled, and if Harper didn’t know any better, she’d think Adam “Five-Alarm” Baudouin was nervous too.
“Is this because you want to see my Honeysuckle or because you want to be my friend?”
He studied her for a long moment and Harper felt her heart race. Not just from the fact that she could smell the summer heat on his skin, but from nerves. She had to know why he was asking. Otherwise her mind wandered down a path that always led to disappointment and heartache.
And her heart was tired of aching.
“Can’t it be both?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, his blue eyes locked on hers. Open, genuine, uncertain—and filled with heat. He wanted her, it was right there—and Harper couldn’t seem to look away. “Can’t it be as simple as I want to spend time with you?”
“So Baudouin hears secret weekly strip poker party at one of the big Victorians near the college campus and, boom, he’s gone. Goes charging in the house like some kind of self-appointed savior for sorority girls everywhere,” Sam said, smacking his palms against the table for effect.
Not that he needed to. Every guy on duty was gathered around the kitchen, hanging on every word of the Adam-inspired story—even though Harper was pretty sure they’d all either been there or heard it a thousand times before. The only one who looked as if he wanted it to end was Adam, who stood by the stove tending to dinner.
“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.