“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.