“And he’s talking to that sexy sweater set chick,” Seth said.
Adam paused from grabbing the bag off the floorboard to peer through the windshield and nearly choked. Because Lowen was indeed talking to a sexy chick, but she wasn’t wearing a sweater set. At least not today.
Nope, everyone’s best friend, Harper, was holding court with his boss and crew, decked out in a flowy sundress that hugged her curves and flirted around her thighs. It was soft yellow with little white flowers and exactly zero straps, leaving her silky shoulders completely bare, and him begging the question of exactly what she had on beneath.
A question that fucking McGuire was probably also asking himself. He was using Harper’s trusting nature to peruse more than just the items in the big pink pastry box she held.
McGuire said something, Harper said something back and touched his arm, then laughed. Real and loud, throwing her head back in a way that tempted the elastic holding up her dress.
Jesus. The guy was practically drooling all over her. And Chief Lowen was no better. The man seemed completely disarmed, smiling at Harper as if she were the most charming person on the planet. Which she was.
Harper had this way about her that was warm and welcoming and, as he was discovering, compelling. But when she smiled, man oh man, he couldn’t seem to stay away. Which only made him wonder why he had never noticed it before.
Sure, he’d noticed Harper around town. It was hard not to with her bright clothes and everything is awesome attitude. But somehow he’d overlooked just how sexy she was. Or maybe it was that she was finally letting her sexy show, and he was lucky enough to witness it.
Either way, he wasn’t about to let a prick like McGuire witness any more than he already had.
“McGuire, I need you to help Seth empty the engine,” Adam said, and all four sets of eyes were on him. “Hey, Cap. Chief.” His gaze met Harper’s, and that buzzing inside that was constantly set to Go shifted. It was still there, but if felt softer somehow. “Harper.”
“Hey, Adam,” she said, gifting him one of those bright smiles that made everyone’s day brighter. “I stopped by to drop these off.” She held up a box of cookies, but her hands shook slightly, telling him she was nervous.
And he knew why. She needed his answer on modeling for her grandma’s shop. An answer that, two seconds after he said he needed to think about it, he’d made up his mind about.
Posing shirtless in a calendar for charity was one thing, but posing in silk boxers and a man’s leisure robe would invite Hugh Hefner jokes. If word ever got out about the shoot, and it would, then his guys would call open season on him and the wisecracks would be never ending. That was saying nothing to how it might weigh in on Lowen’s morality meter.
Seeing her in that summer dress, looking like a breath of fresh air, didn’t help his resolve. In fact, it took his No way in hell to a solid As long as you wear that dress in two seconds flat.
“What is all of this?” McGuire asked, holding up the red plastic cups as he unloaded the engine. “Is this for our beer pong rematch next weekend?”
McGuire might not technically still be the FNG, but he sure as hell acted like it.
“They’re for Beat the Heat,” Seth defended.
“You bought drinking game glasses for a family event?” Chief Lowen asked.
Adam wanted to explain this in Cap’s office, with Emerson’s menu on display, but now Lowen was looking at him as if he’d better explain immediately or there wouldn’t be a meeting and come tomorrow he’d be on trash duty for the rest of his career.
“I went with a red theme, like a, uh . . .” He almost said tailgate party, then realized that was one step away from beer pong. “Like a picnic.”
“Beat the Heat is a picnic,” Lowen pointed out. “So the theme you picked, after a week of planning, is the event itself?”
When said that way it sounded as if he’d half-assed the project. And maybe he had. He’d spent the last week trying to figure out how to get someone else to do his job, rather than put in the sweat equity toward a promotion. And spent this morning realizing he was ill equipped in the party-planning department.
That unfamiliar tightness in his chest was back. Adam realized it was panic—a strange sensation to have for someone who feared nothing. But looking his superiors in the eye, knowing that he’d screwed the pooch yet again, Adam knew this failure would cost him.
He didn’t do failure, but somehow he’d managed to get himself pretty close.