Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena)(57)

“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.

The Pi Etas were a secret society of bakers and poker players in wine country, who loved to mix playing cards with swapping crust recipes. Sure, when things got too vanilla they’d spice it up by betting coupons or tricks of the pie trade. But strip poker? No way. It was an apron-required kind of event.