Now it was Adam’s turn to pay it forward, and hopefully do some more transforming of his own in the process.
“You and Seth will work together to make sure that all the posters are hung around town and that the Sentinel runs the ads for the event. Plus, you’ll run the engine station, talk to the kids about what being a firefighter means to you, and help a few of them climb the ladder.”
“With Seth?”
Adam pressed his hands flat against the table and leaned in. “You and Seth will be so close when this is over, people will think one of you puckered your lips too hard and swallowed the other. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” McGuire moaned.
“Good.” Adam straightened. “Now I need to go apologize to a lady about being a dick.”
By the time Adam’s shift ended and he’d made his apologies about the condom prank to the appropriate parties, he was in desperate need of a hot shower, a cold beer, and a solid eighteen hours of sleep in his own bed.
Make that a cold six-pack. In his bed. With a hot woman.
He was SOL on one and two, but only because of option three. A hot woman—one with a camera and a sweet smile who might not have a bed but wanted him in bedtime attire.
Laughing at that ass-backward scenario, he showered at the station, threw on some jeans and a shirt, and made his way up Main Street.
The sun had long since disappeared, so Adam allowed the gaslit lamps to light his way. When he arrived at the Boulder Holder the CLOSED sign was flipped, but the door was unlocked. He let himself inside and breathed in the feminine scent of jasmine and lace.
A light humming came from the back of the store.
Adam followed the sound and discovered Harper in the back room, rifling through a box. Face down and ass up in a pair of cutoff shorts that rode high enough to show the beginning curves of her sweet cheeks—which swayed as she hummed.
Adam felt a small smile lift his lips and his mood.
She had on one of those multicolored tops he favored, maybe tie-dye. It was baggy in nature, cinched in the back by a big bow, and if she thought it made her look more temptress and less art teacher, she was wrong.
He watched her for a few moments, enjoying the show, then cleared his throat when the humming turned into singing “Sexy and I Know It.”
When she didn’t stop singing, or moving that swaying backside, he realized she’d known he was there all along.
“You’re late.” Her voice was muffled through the box, but he was pretty sure she ended the greeting with, “Drop your pants.”
“Well, if that isn’t the best ‘welcome home’ in the history of mankind.” He might be going for upstanding citizen, but he was still a man, and from what he could see of her backside, she was all woman. And right about then, he needed a cute, curvy distraction. “With fair play being what it is, I say the next article to disappear is that top of yours.”
Harper straightened and gifted him with a big smile. Not flirty or overstated. Just real, as though she were happy to see him. And a smile like that, man oh man, it cut through all the BS to ease that twisted ball in his gut that was a tangle of stress. And Adam didn’t know what to do with that—an unusual situation for him.
“I meant, so you can try these on.” She dangled a pair of silk undies in his direction. They were red, tiny, and looked like a thong for superheroes.
“No amount of manscaping will get me in those,” he said. She dropped them in the box and pulled out another pair. Boxers. Pink, pinstriped, and not happening. “Pink clashes with testosterone.”
“After a drink or two, you might change your mind,” she said hopefully, pointing to a bottle of Scotch to be used as a prop poised next to the chair.
“You got another bottle?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Then I promise you I won’t reconsider. No man wants to be seen in those, and no woman wants to see a man in those.”
“More manly underwear. Got it.” With a dainty little huff she dug back in, and after several seconds came up with a pair of boxer briefs. They were kind of manly, not made of silk and, “They’re purple.”
“Seriously?” She dropped her hand to her side. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you acting all pissy? See, there. I can’t shoot you when you’re pouting.” She cocked her head. “Well, I could shoot you, but it wouldn’t be with my camera.”