Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena)(9)

“I kind of dinged the engine.”

Adam sat up. “Which engine?”

“The new one.”

Adam closed his eyes as the thoughts—all having to do with damage control—pinged around his head: Who’s gonna get pissed at who? How will this affect the FNG? Will it only be a letter in his file? Or a five percent dock in pay?

It was a ping, ping, ping that landed right back on him.

As an equipment apparatus engineer, it was Adam’s job to ensure all of the department’s equipment was in pristine condition. Especially the rigs. But their new rig? His battalion chief would rupture a nut if he heard it was dented.

Adam released a breath. “I’m on my way.”





Praying for a miracle, Adam headed toward the fire station. It was only six doors down from Stan’s, a two-minute walk, tops. He’d figure out the problem, implement a solution, and get back to business as usual.

He wasn’t sure what that was yet, but he hoped it involved a hot meal and an even hotter woman.

However, as his luck would have it, the only woman in sight was wearing bright orange shorts, sunglasses from I Love Lucy, and a denim smock tied at the waist with a dozen or more strips of tape stuck to the front. Unfortunately, it was not the getup Harper wore last night in his dreams, but weirdly it had its own appeal. The smock hid any kind of cleavage she might have going on under there, but those shorts were soft, snug, and showing off her assets.

And what a spectacular asset she had. That he hadn’t dreamed up.

Harper was fighting to hang a sign in the library window and the sign was winning. In her defense, it was pretty big. More like a banner and a two-person job. But since Little Miss Sunshine had made it clear the other night that she didn’t welcome his help, and Adam always listened when a lady spoke her mind, he leaned against a lamppost and watched for a good minute or so, enjoying the view.

A little amusing, a little odd, and fully entertaining.

Then the wind picked up, catching a corner of the banner, which smacked Harper in the forehead. Adam suppressed a laugh, barely, as she struggled to right it. Only it slowly folded over her until all that was visible were those bare legs.

“Need help?” Adam finally asked, and the struggling stopped. He was pretty sure her breathing stopped too. But her frustration—that seemed to grow thick in the air.

“I can’t afford your help,” she said from beneath the sign, which he could now see advertised the upcoming Beat the Heat Festival.

“Helping out with Beat the Heat, huh?” He crossed his arms and grinned. “Does that make you a fire bunny?”

Beat the Heat was an annual festival held at the start of every summer that brought in visitors from all around wine country and beyond. Locals came for the food and the fanfare, and tourists came to experience the beauty of the valley when covered with wild mustard and blooming vines. A fire bunny—well, those were ladies who offered up their services during the event in hopes of servicing one of the single St. Helena Fire Department firefighters.

“I’m not a fire bunny. I offered to help Stephanie Daugherty with the banners since she’s due anytime now and the smell of paint makes her sick,” she clarified. “And I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

As if to prove her wrong, the banner got the upper hand and swallowed her whole, toppling over and taking her down with it. Arms and legs flailed to find purchase, but the sign was too much for her.

“Stupid sign.”

“Now what did that sign ever do to you?”

Ignoring her protests, Adam lifted the banner up and off her with one hand. The other wrapped around her waist and hauled her to a stand. After all, Beat the Heat was an SHFD sponsored event, and as a firefighter, it was his civic duty to step in and help a citizen in need. It was his lucky day the citizen turned out to be Harper.

“It snuck up on me,” she said, flicking a few stray strands of hair out of her face. Strands which, he noticed, were straight and slicked back into that on-the-go messy bun look that took twenty minutes, a flat iron, and a gallon of product to secure. A valley favorite for PTA members and soccer moms, but weird for Harper since she was neither, yet she’d definitely spent quite a bit of time on her hair to make it look carefully casual. “Not a smart move.”

“I don’t know about that.” Adam pressed the sign securely to the window with one hand, then peeled off a band of tape—the one right above that cleavage she was hiding—and attached it to the corner. “I snuck up on you last week and it worked out pretty well for me.”

He reached for another piece of tape, and she smacked his hand. “I said I was fine, and we aren’t going to talk about it.”

She secured the other upper corner and then one of the lower ones.

“It as in the stupid sign and how I saved you?” He stepped closer and leaned in. “Or it, as in the kiss?”

“None of it,” she said, and if her blush was any indication, she might not want to talk about it, but she was thinking about it.

Interesting.

“You’re right,” he said, snatching another piece of tape, which had stuck to her assets in the spill. “This is more of a conversation to have over drinks.”

She snatched the tape back. “No drinks. No talking. No funny business.” She crossed her arms and then leveled him with a glare as if he were one of her students.