No, Hell no, and No fucking way all would have been truthful responses, because kissing Harper had been the most exciting thing Adam had done in weeks. Months. And he’d just worked one of the worst fires of the season.
Knowing she was fixated on that kiss made it even better. But since none of those would win over Emerson, he said, “From the bottom of my heart.”
“Which isn’t saying much, but fine. You convince Harper that you’re sorry you almost screwed the barely legal coed stripper who stole your jacket and I will reconsider catering the event.”
“She was an NFL cheerleader not a stripper, and she’s a college graduate, which means she has to be at least twenty-two.” He hoped to God she was closer to twenty-eight, because he was closer to thirty-five than fraternity, and saying twenty-two out loud made him cringe. “And I didn’t give her my jacket. I forgot it at the shop, and she was neighborly enough to hold on to it for me.”
“She looked a whole lot more than neighborly on Facebook.”
“I took the photo down.”
“How noble of you.” She put her hand over her heart. “I’m sure it was right after you called Harper to apologize?”
“I did apologize to Harper.”
“Did you make it a good one?” she asked, and Adam had to think really hard about that. He’d been so distracted by talk of Honeysuckle and her in that red dress that he wasn’t sure. “You better have, because we both know that giving up on someone, even when they deserve it, totally screws with that whole save the world mantra Harper subscribes to.”
Ah, Jesus. He sighed, feeling like a grade-A douche bag. Because he was the someone in question.
“Yeah, she spent the entire weekend picking up the pieces, balancing her own job while filling in for the fired coed,” Emerson said.
“I didn’t know Baby wasn’t supposed to have guests in after closing,” Adam said, knowing it was a lame excuse. “But I should have.”
That he’d added to her stress by crashing her meeting with the rep made him a bastard. Wasn’t this exactly the kind of behavior Roman had warned him about? Acting without a care about the repercussions?
It also explained why Harper had been so hostile.
“Don’t sweat it, bro,” Dax said, smiling. “Harper helped Baby land her dream job down the street. Pole dancing or something.”
“Pole dancing?” Adam felt the panic rise up. He knew Baby had found a new job, he just didn’t know what it was. Sweat beaded his brow and his right eye twitched with disbelief. “Please tell me that isn’t some fancy wine-country talk for stripping.”
Could this get any worse?
“Lucky for you, pole dancing is the number one way to stay in shape for the ladies of St. Helena,” Emerson said. “The senior ladies. Baby teaches classes at a dance school down the street. Unlucky for you is you’re still out a chef.”
Knowing he needed to make this right, Adam stepped back. “If I make things right with Harper, can I tell Chief Lowen you are on board?”
“Only because I’m marrying your brother and I don’t want it to be weird at the wedding. And if I didn’t pull out the fire extinguisher when your career was going down in a ball of flames, it would make it weird,” she said. “But if Harper isn’t cool with it, then you are SOL.”
“Not a problem.” He knew exactly how to sweet-talk a woman. “Now how about one of your famous breakfast burritos to go?”
This time the partition shut and locked, almost drowning out the sound of Adam’s stomach growling. Thankful he still had his nuts intact, and that Emerson’s chilly personality hadn’t frozen them off, he made his way across Main Street toward Parties to Go-Go. He needed to talk to Harper, but first he had a party planner to secure.
Charm amped to full, he pushed through the doors and was hit by the scent of latex balloons, varnish, and lavender candles.
Megan stood on a step stool hanging brightly colored lanterns from the ceiling. She wore a crop top that crept higher with every lantern hung, painted-on jeans, and a yoga-sculpted ass that promised to clear his mind of all things sunshine.
The door closed behind him, the bells jingling in his wake. At this, Megan attached the last lantern and turned to face him, a welcoming smile on her face. Recognition lit her eyes and her smile grew—uncomfortably big.
“Adam,” she said, hopping down off the step stool and swaying her way toward him. “What are you doing here?”
“You said I should call.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “Anytime, I believe was your phrasing, but then I couldn’t have brought you this.” He held up her latte. “It’s from next door.”
“That is so sweet.” She leaned over to sniff the steam. And groaned in ecstasy. “Fifty Shades of Chocolate? My favorite.”
“I know,” he said, kicking that Baudouin grin up a few notches. “Which is why I made it a large.”
She didn’t say thank you, didn’t acknowledge that anytime worked in today’s agenda, didn’t reach for the cup—or him. Instead she sat poised behind the counter. And that weird vibe Emerson was giving off was in full effect here too.