Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena) (10 page)

He chuckled lightly. “You really need to work on reading signals, sunshine.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Exactly,” was all he said. Then his posture shifted, and so did that easygoing smile. “Now that we got that taken care of, want to explain to me why you keep blowing my game?”

“What are you even talking about?” she asked, although she had a bad feeling she already knew, and silently debated whether to just fess up. She knew it was the right thing to do, even had a pretty good idea he was already in the loop, but wishful thinking held her back.

For all she knew, she was misreading signals again. And he was just there to confront her about Emerson playing hardball with her catering skills.

“Because of you, there will be a huge sex deficit,” he said, sounding genuinely concerned.

“If this is your idea of how to charm me into forgiving you so Emerson will cater Beat the Heat, then I gotta tell you, your game-sucking has zero to do with me.”

“That came out wrong,” Adam said and ran a hand down his face, and at least two days’ worth of stubble, which made him appear sexier and somehow vulnerable. Two things that had her pausing.

Adam didn’t do vulnerable. But the longer she looked at him, the more she wondered what was wrong. The life’s-a-beach ladies’ man was gone and in his place was a worn soul.

“I came here to apologize about the other night.”

“It all worked out,” she said. “And thank you for apologizing. It really means a lot.”

Adam nodded, a single jerk that was male for
welcome
. But when Harper thought he’d walk off, he continued to stare. At her. Not saying a word, until the silence grew and Harper felt more tingling. This time it was from unease, twisting around in her stomach.

“Now, you want to tell me why everyone seems to think we’re dating?” he said, and that twisting went Category 5.

“Not really. I’m good.”

He laughed softly, then moved forward until she felt enveloped. And for one ridiculously stupid, amazing moment she thought he was going to kiss her again. Not the hard smack to the lips he’d given her a moment ago, but a gentle, languid kiss that would have her knees melting.

It had been so long since she’d had a good public knee-melting that she found herself swaying closer. Their bodies brushed and she realized she’d stopped breathing.

“Even if I said I brought you a present?” He opened the bag and held it beneath her nose.

Harper closed her eyes and breathed in mouthwatering vanilla and rich cinnamon. Knowing it was a bribe, and refusing to give in, she shook her head. “Even then.”

He pulled one of the cookies out of the bag—a confetti cake batter cookie, her favorite—and took a bite, moaning, the big jerk. “You sure? There’s plenty.”

Cursing her weakness, she reached into the bag, telling herself that sometimes a cookie was just a cookie. Only then she realized that the bag was full, busting at the seams with enough cookies to feed a small army—or her entire class—and she knew the gesture was so much more.

She looked up and Adam gave a shrug which came off as more boyish than dismissive. “My mom used to bring cookies to my Mighty Mites meetings when I was a kid. So when I saw the sunshine-painted sugar cookies, I grabbed extras.”

Harper’s heart rolled over and showed its soft underbelly. “Thank you. That was very sweet.”

“Sweet enough to tell me why Nora Kincaid posed the question on Facebook about why my status still says single?”

Harper hesitated.

“I guess I can always just go see Nora.”

“No, wait.” Nora Kincaid ran the gossip rag in town. It was hosted on Facebook, all of the photos were amateur, but her word was golden. The last thing Harper needed was Nora catching wind that there was more to the story.

“Remember the meeting you interrupted with the sales rep?”

“You mean the lingerie lady?” He gestured to his chest as a way of identifying that yes, he remembered everything about Chantel. “She had great merchandise.”

Harper ignored this. “Well, because of how we were acting, she thought we were dating.”

“You mean, me asking to see your panties and you shooting me death glares indicates that we’re a couple?” He shook his head. “This is why I don’t date.”

Harper guessed there were a lot more reasons why he didn’t date, deeper reasons that explained a lot of the crazy, and often dangerous, decisions he made, but she left it alone. “I didn’t exactly say we were dating, but I didn’t correct her either.” Harper felt her face redden further. “And I guess someone overheard. I never meant for it to go this far.”

“My guess? It was Nora, since she posted a picture of us talking on the sidewalk, which looked very cozy by the way. Then she shipped us as the summer couple to watch.”

“Shipped us?”

“Ha-dam,” he said, not bothering to elaborate more. “As for lying by omission.” He grimaced. “It’s a slippery slope, sunshine. But you already know that, so why?”

Harper took in a deep, calming breath, but it didn’t work. Admitting this to anyone would be humiliating. Admitting it to Adam was going to be unbearable. But he deserved the truth.

“My grandma’s shop is in trouble, and the only way to save it is to get one of our manufacturers, who is trying to phase us out, to reconsider and re-up our contract.”

“The lingerie lady?”

Harper nodded. “I spent all weekend giving the shop a complete makeover, making it perfect for the meeting. I even researched what’s sexy and bought a new dress. No matter what I did, though, it wasn’t enough to convince her we were hip, edgy, and
alluring
enough. Until”—Harper looked Adam square in the eyes—“she saw I had landed a guy like you. She thought that if I was sleeping with someone as”—she paused to throw up some air quotes—“
beefy
and hot as you, then there must be more to me than she was seeing. So she gave me a second chance, contingent upon me convincing her boss that I have what it takes, even though I don’t appear to.”

“You mean that the store has what it takes?”

“Same thing.”

“Not really,” he said softly, and so full of concern that Harper had to close her eyes.

This wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. It was so much worse. Because Adam saw more than she’d wanted him to, picking up on things most people would look right past.

Harper wasn’t only determined to get her grandma the contract and save the shop—she secretly wanted to be seen as someone who brought a special uniqueness to the project. And Adam wasn’t saying a thing, not even a smart-mouthed jab, taking this moment from awful into the vortex of the worst day ever.

Harper Owens was too pathetic for the hometown tease to tease.

When the silence grew too thick to breathe, she opened an eye, just one, enough to see his expression. Only he didn’t look as if he was pitying her. His face was gentle, understanding. No, it was deeper than understanding. There was empathy. As if it came from a place of personal experience. Which was ridiculous since Adam was the most seen man she’d ever met.

He walked into a room and all eyes went to him like white on rice. But in that moment, with the way he was looking at her, she wondered if the person people saw and the person Adam was deep down were in direct conflict.

“I really didn’t think it would get out,” she admitted.

“This is St. Helena—everything gets out.” Adam let out a breath as though someone thinking they were dating was the worst thing in the world.

Letting that sting settle, she asked, “Is it really that bad? People thinking you dated me?”

“What? No!” And even though her head was telling her he was just being nice, she really wanted to believe him. “The truth is, I’ve had my eye on lieutenant for a while. I’ve put in the time and the training, and now I need to prove to my superiors that I’m focused and dependable, the kind of guy who brings honor to the badge.”

The statement threw Harper. Sure, Adam played it fast and loose in his personal life, but when it came to his job, it was clear he took it seriously. “You’re a great firefighter and the other guys admire you.”

“Tossing back a few with my buddies and effectively leading my crew are two different things.” He shook his head as if disgusted. “And having some girl post a photo in nothing but a G-string and my work jacket isn’t the best way to prove I’m ready for a promotion.”

“Especially when a few days later you are rumored to be hooking up with me.” Guilt filled Harper’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Adam. I had no idea.”

“The misconception seems to be county-wide,” he said, and a powerful surge of protectiveness sparked. “Normally this whole thing would blow over as a big joke, another locker-room story about the Five-Alarm Casanova, but . . .” He shrugged, his expression so full of embarrassment, Harper wanted to hug him.

“I will clear everything up. With Emerson and Chantel. I will call her as soon as my class ends and tell her I lied.”

A strange expression settled on his face. “Won’t you lose the account?”

Harper didn’t want to think about that. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Probably
. “Chantel might look past it.”

Adam glanced down Main Street toward the firehouse. “Look, we both messed up, but I don’t want you losing the account. So as long as you tell Emerson and Megan it’s okay to work Beat the Heat, I can handle the rest.”

“What about Chantel?”

Adam shrugged. “Chantel lives in San Francisco. It’s not like she’s privy to St. Helena gossip. So what if she thinks we’re dating?”

Harper shrugged, then stared at her shoes. “Actually, I may have also implied that you’d be willing to model their new line for a campaign for Clovis’s shop, and maybe a sample page for the online catalog?”

“Like the pictures we took for Shay’s calendar?”

“Just like that,” Harper said, picturing Adam in his turnout pants holding a rescued bulldog. She felt her cheeks flush. “Only . . . you’d be wearing nothing but underwear.”

Adam drew in a startled breath, and she knew right then that it didn’t matter if they were silk or cotton, posing in underwear wasn’t lieutenant material.

W
hy didn’t you tell me he was going to be playing?” Harper asked, glancing out at the baseball field as she placed a stack of food tickets in the window of Emerson’s food truck.

“If by
he
you mean your
boyfriend
, it was because I wanted to see you squirm,” Emerson said, dropping several pita wraps onto the hot griddle.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Harper said in a hushed whisper. “I don’t even know if we’re friends.”

“Sounds complicated,” Shay Baudouin said from inside. She was standing next to the prep counter, eating baklava straight from the tray.

“Worse,” Harper said.

It was Thursday night and the weekly Napa County Sheriff’s Department softball game. With Dax geared up and on the field, Emerson was short on backup for her food truck. It was deputies versus firefighters, and with Harper running orders in the stands and Adam down on the field, it seemed as if the entire town had come out for the game.

The stands were heavy on the sixty-five-and-older crowd, all vying for Nora Kincaid’s fifty-dollar reward for the best candid shot of St. Helena’s Miracle Match. The fine print clarified the fifty dollars was to be paid in double-day coupons to the local pharmacy, but since Bottles and Bottles was a pharmacy
and
a wine shop, the coupons were a hot commodity.

And if that weren’t complicated enough, the rest of the stands were filled with twenty-somethings, and a few bold cougars, all wanting to see with their own eyes if the Five-Alarm Casanova was really off the market.

Something Harper intended to clear up when she went to talk to Megan. Which she was totally going to do—tomorrow. She’d already come clean with Emerson, who had agreed to cater Beat the Heat as long as Adam agreed to keep his hose out of trouble. Now Harper needed to admit to a woman who was everything Harper would never be that it was all a big joke. Which made
her
feel like a big joke.

“I told you it was all a big misunderstanding, but actually I lied and got caught.” Harper strategically avoided her friend’s glare, instead paying particular attention to arranging the mouthwatering baklava. Sweet and gooey and drizzled with enough honey she nearly forgot that it was after seven in the evening and she still had several hours of inventory waiting for her back at the Fashion Flower.

“And I believed you,” Emerson said, “but then someone told me they saw you kissing Adam on Main Street.” Emerson might be dressed in pink sparkly high-tops and an apron that said
KISS THE COOK
, but beneath the recently engaged glow was a ninja master, with knives and at doling out guilt.

“How do you know that someone wasn’t lying?” Harper asked, confident she could honestly say she hadn’t kissed Adam. He’d kissed her. Big difference.

“Well, since that someone was me,” Shay said, “I feel pretty confident stating that you were locking lips with Adam Baudouin on Main Street.” Shay eyed Harper, and Harper resisted the urge to run. Barely.

Emerson and Shay were watching her, waiting for her to spill, so Harper zipped her lips and stared back.

Long, tense moments passed. Harper felt sweat bead between her shoulder blades and drip down her back, but she held strong. Until Emerson crossed her arms and dug in for the long haul.

Her bestie wasn’t big on gossip—in fact, she wasn’t all that talkative—but if she felt like someone was hiding something from her, she was a master at ferreting out the truth.

Being under that intense scrutiny made Harper’s stomach go wonky and she found swallowing difficult. Like Emerson, she hated secrets—hated keeping them almost as much as she hated uncovering them. Which was why she never kept any. She knew just how harmful they could be.

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.